Myr, in the fields outside the city.
A group of young people strolled across the open countryside. The Rose of Highgarden, the Last True Dragon, and the legitimized bastard of House Baratheon.
"Ser Barristan," Garlan said first, greeting the old knight. "Your name is renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms."
"What a gracious young man. Though I have already been branded a traitor and struck from the Small Council," Barristan said with a hearty laugh.
"That is their folly."
"I am truly glad you came. Welcome, both of you," Daenerys said to Margaery and Garlan.
Daenerys had a fairly good impression of House Tyrell. They had not been able to turn the tide for House Targaryen, but at least they had made a token effort and taken the initiative. That much, at least, meant they had not entirely failed the Dragonlord's favor. House Tully, by contrast, had not even bothered to pretend.
Margaery knelt before the future queen. "You honor me greatly, Your Grace."
"Why not call me Dany? Come, get up. And may I call you Margaery?" Daenerys said, helping her to her feet.
Daenerys quietly studied Margaery. She was the very image of a soft, classic beauty, dressed in the traditional style of Highgarden. Brown hair, brown eyes, slender and lovely. Yet to Margaery, Daenerys still felt like someone from another world. Margaery was proud of her own beauty, the darling rose of Highgarden, but Daenerys possessed the kind of beauty people spoke of as almost inhuman.
"I thought you would be attending Renly's coronation," Gendry said.
His gold worked cloak gleamed brilliantly, one side embroidered with fifty leaping stags, the other with fifty roaring dragons. Yet above the stag's head there was not only a crown, but also a warhammer, a symbol of power. Royal authority came from strength.
"And why would you think that? Renly, Great Lord Renly, has indeed overstepped himself," Garlan said. "House Tyrell is a loyal servant of the king."
"Usurpation is treason, certainly, but silence also deserves an answer. I hear Renly has named Edric his heir, saying Edric was better born and therefore should inherit?"
"That is true," Garlan replied. "That is only Renly's own view. He has also planned an even stronger marriage alliance. Lord Renly hopes to reach an understanding with Lord Stannis. For the sake of those splendid fleets, he wants Edric to wed Lady Shireen."
"Renly has thought it through well enough." Gendry found the marriage plan absurd, though it seemed Renly really had been pushed to desperation, his place no longer secure. As members of the same generation, Edric and Shireen did at least make sense as a match, much like Tywin and his own wife. That was hardly unusual in this world. The real issue was the poor little girl herself, burdened with such a dreadful affliction.
Margaery looked at the young man before her and at first thought she was seeing a younger Renly, but the differences quickly became clear.
Gendry had a broader jaw, heavier brows, and shorter cropped hair, like a conqueror. Renly was graceful and refined, while this young man had thick shoulders and the powerful arms of a smith. Their eyes were the same vivid blue, but Renly's had always been warm, lively, full of laughter, while Gendry's held more of a warrior's resolve and courage.
What a captivating young man, Margaery thought, putting aside her private musings. She suspected Gendry was the sort who valued beauty as well, though she did not know whether he was as lustful as the king. Daenerys certainly possessed unusual influence, but even more than that, she possessed unmatched beauty, which was why she had won such favor.
"I would like to see your loyalty," Gendry said, looking at Garlan.
"I will carry your words back to Highgarden exactly as they were spoken," Garlan replied.
"There is no need to make this so tense," Daenerys said, glancing at Ser Garlan and stepping in to ease the atmosphere. "They are guests."
"Winter is coming. The long summer is nearing its end. As the great granary, the Reach's greatest contribution to the Seven Kingdoms is the grain and supplies it can provide."
The Reach had people in numbers as great as a plague of insects, but without a true leader they could not be drawn together at all unless the right opportunity for war appeared.
Garlan nodded. This heir possessed a warrior's courage, but also a merciful heart. In that, he surpassed many others.
"I have heard that Ser Garlan often trains against three or even five men at once?" Gendry said, looking at him. Two golden roses were embroidered on Garlan's chest, marking him as a second son.
"There are few chances for a fair one on one fight on the battlefield, so it is best to prepare early," Garlan answered.
"A brave warrior indeed."
"I only prepare for war. The Prince, on the other hand, has already won many wars."
"Just a bit of sport," Gendry said, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
"Then I will do my best," Garlan said. In truth, he was curious as well. He wanted to know just how terrifying this victorious storm, the greatest warrior on the Narrow Sea, truly was.
Ser Garlan raised his shield, embroidered with two golden roses, took up his blunted sword, and put on his armor.
Seeing that Gendry had also armed and armored himself, Ser Garlan signaled and moved in. He attacked in a rush like wind and rain, swift as a hunting leopard.
Gendry swung his blunted sword and struck second yet arrived first. A tremendous force burst from the blade. Steel slammed into steel, flashing with a brilliant burst of iron light.
But only moments later, Ser Garlan was no longer able to hold against him. His shield was smashed apart by the blunted sword, and his muscles twitched faintly.
"I-I have lost." Garlan let his weapon fall. The warrior before him no longer seemed human at all. His strength came on like pounding surf, wave after wave without end.
Garlan had never liked drawing attention to himself, but he had always been confident in his own strength. Now, however, he felt a crushing sense of defeat, as though an unbridgeable chasm had opened before him. Even so, he recovered quickly. He had most likely just lost to the strongest warrior alive, perhaps the strongest without question.
"I truly admire your prowess," Garlan said.
"Naturally," Dany said proudly.
"If the chance arises, Highgarden would be delighted to host the Prince for hawking and leisure. My brother Willas raises the finest hounds and horses," Margaery said with a smile.
"There will be such a chance."
Once the outing was over, Garlan and Margaery returned to their camp, while Gendry and Dany went back to Pear Tree Manor.
"Is he really that strong?" Margaery asked curiously.
"Yes." Garlan nodded and lowered his voice. "I was not playing along for Gendry's sake just now. His speed and strength are both astonishing, and his stamina is exceptional. He also has real battle experience. That kind of force felt overwhelming. It was like facing a giant. A casual swing from him was already hard to withstand. He has both strength and brains. Khal Drogo must have died by his hand."
"And what about us?" Margaery asked.
"We may be guests, but guests are still only guests. Our host has not told us what he plans to do next, which means he likely already has something in mind. Is he planning to strike the Stormlands first?"
"Sending out the fleet and the main army, and starting with a Baratheon civil war?" Margaery thought for a moment. "Securing legitimacy that way would hardly be unusual."
"No matter what, caution comes first. Has there ever been anyone like him before? To conquer so much while still so young. This man is truly frightening."
...
Inside the council chamber of Wolf's Den.
"Time is running short. I have decided to lead the army across the Green Fork and march by way of Ruby Ford to relieve Riverrun," Gendry said.
"Speed is vital in war, but is this not somewhat risky from a military standpoint?" Ser Barristan said. "If you trust me, I can serve as commander."
"Time is pressing. The force we must destroy first is the Kingslayer's host, and most of the troops we will be using are from the Vale and Crackclaw Point," Gendry replied. "These men are not directly under my command, so it is better for me to lead them in person. The men of the Vale and the men of Crackclaw Point have never gotten along."
The decision was based on both troop strength and terrain. Tywin's army of twenty thousand was the hard fist of the Westerlands. To swallow that force whole would require at least thirty or forty thousand men, and the cost in manpower would be too great. By contrast, the Kingslayer's forces were split across three positions and constantly tied down in sieges. There was even a hint of pride and carelessness in the way they operated.
"If the Prince has decided, then so be it. Since you will lead the vanguard, I shall serve as your guard," Ser Barristan said without hesitation.