On the open plain outside the Wolf's Den, quartered banners fluttered in the wind. Behind the knights stood their guards, the Wolf Pack in black cloaks and the Unsullied guards in spiked helms.
Gendry led a horse over to Daenerys. The old knight Barristan, Anguy, and Greywolf stood nearby.
Gendry wore a black studded jerkin, black riding breeches, and tall boots. A badge hung on his chest, and in his hand he held the reins of a small silver mare.
Daenerys had silver gold hair and violet eyes. She wore a deep purple silk gown that set off her violet gaze. The Last True Dragon truly possessed an inhuman beauty, unmatched by anyone. Yet by age, she was still only a girl.
This silver horse had been sent to Daenerys by Gendry's Dothraki vassals, a young filly, spirited and shining. She was no ordinary fine horse. There was something about her that left Daenerys breathless, her coat gray as the winter sea, her mane like silver smoke.
"She's so beautiful," Daenerys murmured. The silver mane matched her silver hair perfectly.
"I'm glad you like her," Gendry said with a smile.
Many of the finest Dothraki horses had once belonged to Drogo. After Drogo's death, Gendry came into possession of a great many fine mounts. That was the charm of taking spoils for free, the prize of the victor. By now Gendry had quite a number of excellent horses, Dornish horses gifted by the Red Viper, blood sweating horses from the Tall Man, and tall Dothraki steeds, just right for equipping cavalry.
Gendry stepped forward, wrapped an arm around Daenerys's waist, and lifted her as easily as if she were a child, setting her onto the narrow Dothraki saddle.
Dany took the reins in both hands and slipped her feet into the low stirrups. Her horsemanship had once been mediocre, but now it had improved by leaps and bounds. And the silver gray filly moved with such smooth and steady grace that before long Daenerys was galloping across the grass.
Ser Barristan smiled. "The Princess is very fond of your gift, Prince."
Gendry had given Ser Barristan a new suit of armor, gilded on the outside, finely forged, hard as solid ice, bright as white snow, and gleaming in the sunlight. A dagger hung at one hip and his longsword at the other, both suspended from a white leather belt with golden buckles. A white cloak rested on his shoulders. On Barristan's helm, there was a leaping stag on one side and a soaring dragon on the other.
"This is the wind, the power of freedom," Gendry said, watching Daenerys ride across the grassland with joy written all over her face.
Gendry mounted his own black steed and followed behind Daenerys. After the two of them rode across the grassland for a while, Daenerys decided to stop and check on her little dragons, bound to her by blood.
After dismounting, Daenerys went off to tend to Vhagar and Viserion. Gendry, meanwhile, carried Balerion with him and walked straight over to Ser Barristan. Balerion hung over his shoulder like a black and red scarf.
"Prince, I accompanied the longship all the way to the Arbor and did all I could to spread the will and the proclamation. But I am sorry to say that many lords are still waiting to see which way the wind blows," Ser Barristan said apologetically.
"It does not matter. Dorne and the Reach are strong enough to afford waiting. The Reach is too rich, and Dorne too dangerous," Gendry said indifferently.
The Baratheon dynasty had already long since fallen into disorder, and after King Robert's death it had split apart even further. This was not something a single will could repair. He would rebuild it with his own strength. Dorne was still choosing to remain idle, and the Reach had also begun to hesitate and weigh its options rather than pushing all in at once. That alone was already a change.
"The situation with your two uncles does not look very promising either," Barristan said. "They know that the late king is dead, and they know what was written in the will, yet they still go their own way. It is said that Great Lord Renly intends to crown himself king, while Great Lord Stannis has remained silent."
Now that the king was dead, two powder kegs had gone off at once. One was House Lannister's utter lawlessness, lions and trout at war, which was also a provocation against the direwolf and the eagle. The other was Renly acting on his own. Renly's outrageous conduct was in a class of its own. There had never been anything so reckless before. Renly was only the third son. He had an elder brother, and that brother had children, so by the line of succession his claim was barely worth mentioning, yet he still meant to rebel simply because he had soldiers and horses behind him. It only showed how mad this age truly was. Even so, because the Reach had begun to waver, Renly's momentum had weakened a great deal.
"Let Renly make his fuss. As for Great Lord Stannis, I will find a chance to speak with him," Gendry said. "For now, the Stormlands are not the heart of the war. The heart of the war lies in the Riverlands."
"Prince, the situation in the Riverlands is far too dire. House Tully has already been utterly crushed. Jaime Lannister has Riverrun surrounded, while Great Lord Tywin marches toward Harrenhal. Unless House Arryn or House Stark sends troops to break the siege," Ser Barristan said bluntly.
The old knight's hair was white as snow, and deep lines spread from the corners of his pale blue eyes, yet the years had not bent his straight back, nor had they worn away his superb skill at arms.
"I heard the same thing. How can that foolish fish Edmure be so useless?" Anguy could not help complaining as well. "The Kingslayer is besieging Riverrun, and Great Lord Tywin is leading twenty thousand men along the Goldroad, across the Red Fork, sweeping through the Riverlands. His army is set to strike every stronghold except Riverrun, the Twins, and Seagard. Those three castles all lie fairly far north, and House Whent at Harrenhal has very few men. I fear they will soon have no choice but to yield the castle as well."
"It was not always like this," Ser Barristan said with a sigh. "Back when Minisa Whent married Great Lord Hoster Tully, House Whent was one of the most prominent and wealthy noble houses in the Riverlands, and the greatest bannerman under House Tully. In that false spring, the tourney at Harrenhal was at the height of its glory. House Whent's wealth and honor were the envy of all. Who could have imagined that House Whent would fall so low, and that the Tully, Whent alliance would collapse as well?"
"It seems the curse of Harrenhal is at work again," Anguy said.
And it certainly seemed that way. Before the war even began, only a handful remained of the house's main line.
"Does Harrenhal truly have a curse?" Gendry wondered. Perhaps that was something he could ask Qyburn.
"Ser Edmure lacks his father Great Lord Hoster's political sense, and his skill at arms and ability to command are mediocre as well," Ser Barristan said bluntly. "But even Great Lord Hoster's judgment was likely only a little better than his son's. He gained much through marriage alliances. Catelyn married Lord Eddard, and Lysa married Lord Jon. But when it came to war, Hoster was never such an exceptional commander. During the Usurper War, it was the late king and Eddard Stark who truly stood out."
"You mean Edmure should have followed the tactics from the Dance of the Dragons and intercepted the Lannister forces along the Red Fork," Gendry said.
"Yes. Ser Edmure may care for the smallfolk, but his eye for battle is dreadful." Ser Barristan looked at Gendry. It seemed only a genius could accomplish truly great things. Young as he was, the Gendry before him had already been tempered by many battles. "Holding the Red Fork might not necessarily have worked much better, but it would still have been better than piling four thousand men beneath the Golden Tooth and letting the Lannisters sweep them away from the high ground."
"I want to enter the Riverlands and show Tywin a thing or two," Gendry said.
"Now?" Ser Barristan asked in surprise. "That would be very difficult."
He had originally thought Gendry meant to move against the Stormlands or Dragonstone first, to reclaim the ancestral lands of House Baratheon or House Targaryen and deal with the ambitious Great Lord Renly.
"That's right." Gendry nodded. "Robb Stark is preparing to march south, but he will not be fast enough. The Starks want to relieve Riverrun, but I can do it faster than they can."
The old knight looked at Gendry. "To save the people ravaged by war, yes. But entering the field now will be difficult. We would need to send a fleet to transport soldiers and warhorses, then choose a suitable landing place. If Great Lord Stannis moves to block us, the risk would be too great."
"Without using soldiers from the Twin Cities of Myr and Tyrosh, perhaps I can choose soldiers native to Westeros instead," Gendry said with a smile.
"Crackclaw Point? The Vale?" Barristan thought for a moment. It seemed Gendry intended to raise troops on the spot in Westeros.
"The risk is greater, yes, but so is the reward. The people are like water. They only flow toward those who cherish them," Gendry said. "House Tully is useless, and most of the Riverlords are fence sitters. Whoever strikes first, whoever defeats the Lannisters, will win the hearts of the Trident."
The fact that Robb Stark, not Edmure, was crowned king by the Northmen and the people of the Trident after his victory already showed that the Riverlands was a land that needed the protection of strong power. The Riverlands truly had suffered one disaster after another, harried first by the Storm Kings and then by the ironborn, before finally passing into the hands of House Tully.
"And what of House Tully afterward?" Barristan asked.
"If House Tully is this incompetent, then they should not continue ruling the Trident. Besides, the Riverlands was never truly a natural geographic unit to begin with," Gendry said with a cold snort.
I am rescuing the people of the Trident, not House Tully alone. And once the mouth of the Trident is locked down, the North's throat will be in my grasp as well.