At Storm's End, Loras followed behind Renly.
"I know what the Stormlands lords are thinking, which is why I must act. Time is short. I need a clean, beautiful victory. My brother Robert had that invincible swagger, and they all loved him for it. I see the same spirit in that boy," Renly Baratheon said anxiously to his close friend, Loras Tyrell. "The lords are watching from the fence, waiting to see who can bring them victory. The northern army has won battle after battle. These men have been restless for some time. If there is no fighting, the soldiers will grow slack."
"What can I do?" Ser Loras asked.
"I do not trust the Stormlands lords very much. I only trust you. I fear they may mutiny, force me to make peace with Stannis, and return the crown to my nephew. I expect the peace talks will be difficult. If possible, have your rose men from the Reach serve as my assault force. They will show no mercy. Once this battle is over, we will have the warships of Dragonstone. Then, when we take King's Landing, Great Lord Mace will understand who the true king is. With Highgarden's support, I will be stronger than the Lannisters and the blacksmith," Renly said in a low voice.
Because of the siege of Storm's End years ago, relations between the Tyrells and Stannis were poor, which made Loras's guards much more trustworthy.
"I can do that." Ser Loras nodded. Although Highgarden had not joined him, it had still sent some men as Loras's guards. These sixty or seventy guards were absolutely loyal to him.
"The army at Storm's End has the advantage in numbers, but my brother is an old soldier, so we must strike suddenly and move quickly," Renly explained.
"I will win victory for you." Ser Loras looked at Renly with determination and confidence.
Renly gazed out toward the distant sea. He needed Stannis's warships. He no longer wanted to keep waiting through Stannis's delays and watchfulness. Only by defeating Stannis and sailing toward King's Landing would he have greater standing to demand grain and men from the Reach. Only then would the Tyrells, Rowans, and Redwynes support him.
Somewhere in the towers of Storm's End, in a training yard, Renly saw his nephew, Edric Storm, or perhaps now he could be called Edric Baratheon. Robert and Delena Florent had stained Stannis's marriage bed, and from that had come this child.
Edric wore a black studded jerkin, with shield and blunted sword in hand, having just finished sparring with his master-at-arms. He looked like a smaller, younger Robert or Renly, with black hair, deep blue eyes, and the same shape to his mouth, chin, and cheekbones. Only his protruding ears reminded everyone that his mother was a Florent.
Edric was tall, stronger than most boys, his chest and shoulders broader as well. He was devoted to the warrior's path, and not one morning passed without him practicing sword and shield.
"Good day, Your Grace." Edric bowed to him. Ser Cortnay, the acting castellan of Storm's End, was also there. Edric's nature might be as hot-tempered and proud as his father's, but the Maester, acting castellan, and masters-at-arms who had raised him had taught him great courtesy.
"I am well, Edric," Renly said to him. Edric was his name. Storm, perhaps, spoke to the chaos these bastards brought.
"Are you going to war, Your Grace?"
"Yes." Renly nodded.
"I hope the Warrior protects you and grants you a great victory like my father's. My father was brave. He won three battles in a single day," Edric said proudly.
Renly looked at Edric, relieved that he was not talking about his brother, the blacksmith. Edric was very like Robert, yes, and he worshiped his father, but his father had never thought of these children. Robert had scattered his seed everywhere, then ignored the children once they were born.
"Do you know which battle it was, Your Grace?" the boy asked Renly.
"Of course I know, Edric. It was when my brother returned home to summon his bannermen. Lord Grandison, Lord Cafferen, and Lord Fell planned to meet at Summerhall before marching on Storm's End, but an informant carried the news to Robert. So he immediately took all his knights and squires and rode day and night, striking each force separately before they could reach Summerhall and defeating them one by one. He killed Lord Fell in single combat and captured Fell's son, 'Silver Axe.'"
"Isn't that right, Edric?" Renly asked him again.
"That's right. He smashed all three enemies and, through his courage in battle, won over Lord Grandison, Lord Cafferen, and 'Silver Axe.' In war, no one was my father's match."
"Edric, you should not boast too much," Ser Cortnay said. "King Robert suffered defeats like any other man. Great Lord Tyrell and Lord Tarly defeated him at Ashford, and he lost many times in the joust."
"But he won far more often than he lost, and at the most important moment, he killed Prince Rhaegar at The Trident," the happy boy declared.
"You have taught him well, Ser Cortnay," Renly praised.
"The boy has a warrior's gift in his nature," Ser Cortnay said proudly. Ser Cortnay was bald, his weathered face marked by a red beard shaped like a shovel.
"Go play, Edric. You still have history and arithmetic lessons with the Maester later," Renly told him. Edric left the room, taking his leave politely.
"Is war truly coming, Your Grace?" Ser Cortnay asked.
"Yes, Ser. Great Lord Stannis's army is coming too." Renly nodded. "War is close at hand. And aside from war, there is Edric's marriage."
"Marriage? We are about to fight." Ser Cortnay asked in confusion. "Besides, Lord Stannis has never agreed to this condition of ours. Is it still possible?"
"It is forced by necessity," Renly said. "I must defeat my brother, or have him recognize me. But to win the hearts of his men, in exchange, I must betroth Edric to Shireen."
"But greyscale is a terrible disease. The girl could be his playmate. She does not have to become his wife, does she?" Ser Cortnay's eyes widened. Shireen was a pitiful, gentle, sweet child, but she had an incurable illness.
Close marriages were not rare in Westeros, such as between cousins. House Stark had once had two uncles marry their elder brother's nieces, and Tywin's wife Joanna was his uncle's daughter. Though those blood ties could not compare to the Targaryens', they were still very close.
"This is the will of power, Ser. I do this for Edric as well, for his grand future. When I go to war, he is the heir, and you are his guardian and the castellan of Storm's End," Renly said, allowing no doubt.
"Yes." Ser Cortnay nodded, then looked at Renly and Loras without refuting him.
"Go and prepare. My reign will begin from this moment." Renly gave the order, and Ser Cortnay left.
"I feel Ser Cortnay looked at us a little too often," Loras said. "Selling Shireen to Edric through marriage is not very good."
"I think you are overthinking it. The old knight has always been my loyal friend and subordinate. I entrusted the task of raising the child to the acting castellan and the Maester. Ser Cortnay has always been with Edric, so our feelings are naturally close," Renly declared.
"I hope so," Loras muttered.
"Letting Shireen and Edric be together is also an exchange. That is a king's scheme. I need others to see my generosity. Preparing to attack Stannis is only my last resort. If my brother supported me as he once supported Robert and recognized my right to inherit, he would find that I am a generous man. I would gladly recognize all his lands, titles, and honors, and arrange a future for his ugly daughter."
Renly still hoped Stannis would yield. That way, his few claims of legitimacy would be strengthened. He would not only gain the fleet, but Stannis's endorsement as well. Though he had always aimed high, the throne was no ordinary thing. It had to be planned for carefully.
"I hope Lord Stannis will be wiser."
"I am going to bathe," Renly said to Loras, looking at his guards. "The battlefield truly stinks, especially the smell of mud and sweaty soldiers. I cannot bear it. I really do not know how my brother liked fighting in groups so much, though he was never particular about women either."
"As you command." Loras followed behind Renly and stopped thinking about the tangled rights and wrongs of power and war.
At the same time, Catelyn Stark was resting in Renly's tent. The first thing Catelyn saw was Renly's armor standing like sentries on either side of the tent entrance: a full suit of forest-green plate, carved with gold ornamentation, with two enormous golden antlers on the helm.
Renly truly did not treat himself poorly, Catelyn thought. Even his armor was carved and decorated so extravagantly. For the next few days, Renly would return to Storm's End to rest rather than stay here the entire time.
Catelyn then saw Renly's spacious, luxurious hall tent. Its interior was larger than the hall of an ordinary inn, and all kinds of luxuries could be found everywhere: feather mattresses and fur sleeping robes, countless braziers to drive off the cold night air, hanging leather folding chairs, a writing desk with an inkpot and quill. On the desk were scattered plates of peaches, plums, and pears; a ring of delicate silver cups surrounded a jug of wine; and a pile of cedar chests held Renly's changes of clothing, books, battle maps, as well as a tall harp, a longbow, and a quiver of arrows. There was also a pair of red-tailed hawks and a heap of finely forged weapons.
"This Renly is simply a spoiled child. What do all these things for eating, drinking, and amusement have to do with war?" Catelyn Stark could not help shaking her head. No wonder Renly's army had not moved at all yet. He seemed more like a young lordling than a soldier.
Although Catelyn was also the daughter of a great noble house, her life had never been so lavish as Renly's. After she came to The North, with its bitter cold, Great Lord Eddard had been frugal by nature, and northerners had always been plain and simple. Winterfell had never been so luxurious, so Catelyn had truly opened her eyes.
Catelyn could not help comparing Renly with his nephew. Renly had only learned the king's taste for dress and ornament, along with the king's friendliness and confidence. Unfortunately, he had not learned the warrior part of the king: leading from the front, brave and fearless. If war truly came, Renly would not be the Storm's match.
As for worldly desires, the late King Robert had always indulged in those as well: fine wine, good food, tourneys, and all kinds of women. But Robert was never careless on the battlefield, and in life, he was easygoing. The king would never treat himself well while his soldiers froze and starved. On the contrary, Robert would always lead from the front and mix easily with common soldiers. Those crude songs and poor ales, Robert never refused them, just as he rarely refused most women.
"If Renly and Stannis make peace, what will they exchange?" Catelyn thought. This was likely exactly what Renly was thinking about as well. The lands of the Stormlands, and the marriage of the girl Stannis kept hidden at home. Even between brothers, beneath power, it was all naked exchange.