The Little Cub
Part 43 - Seed of Madness
Winning the trial by combat gave me my freedom, but the price was so high that I was left with a doubt if it all had been worth it. My companions Ser Guyard Buckler of the Kingsguard and Ser Horas Flowers had been detained at the same time as I, being suspected accomplices of mine, but now that my innocence was proven they were released. No doubt everyone in the throne room knew the truth, but there was little and less anyone could do to stop me.
I didn't hesitate when I was given the chance to leave. Knowing it was the best to set off before Edric could come up with another plan for my demise, my retinue began the journey south along the Kingsroad immediately after the trial. Just before the ride began, the person I'd least expected to come did the opposite of what I'd presumed. Despite everything that had happened between me and my wife's family, Malora had wanted to return to Storm's End. With her she brought our daughter Argella and the mentor that had died by my hand. Ser Balon was born in the Stormlands, and there he would be put to rest as well. I couldn't help but to wonder what his son might think when the word reached him that I'd killed his father; Gaston was one of my closest companions, and I'd left him in Storm's End to look after Durran and Aemon, my natural born sons with Lyra Baelish.
I was too weak to ride so I spent most of the journey inside the wheelhouse with Malora. The damage Edric's tools had left wasn't permanent, and the injuries sustained from torture began to heal quickly - even if the ones not showing wouldn't. Malora told me that her father had named Ser Clifford of Blackhaven the new Lord Commander immediately after I'd left the throne room. The man was a lowborn peasant from Blackhaven who had won both a knighthood and a white cloak during my father's reign due to his prowess in combat. He had a reputation as a man who the King used to interrogate his prisoners, and somehow I suspected it had been him who'd introduced Edric to that art as well.
Ser Clifford wasn't a mere minion, but a rogue knight with much influence in the Red Keep. I'd heard rumours that despite his lowborn background he'd amassed a fortune during his time in the Kingsguard. It was said his wealth surpassed even what was in the royal coffers. I held high respect for the man, knowing that only the best and the worst of the lowest rise high. Still, I wasn't quite sure if he had deserved his new position as the Lord Commander. List of names that had served in that position before was, needless to say, quite impressive. The last man to serve as the Lord Commander had been a father figure to me, and his predecessor was in truth my grand-father.
I'd half expected for us to meet some trouble on the road, but the journey to the Stormlands went well. If I'd lost my life in an ambush, it would've stained Edric's reputation even if the evidence couldn't have been tied to him. But I knew he'd become a man who would turn into extreme solutions if need be, and as long as I lived, he wouldn't feel safe. Still, when we crossed the border of the Crownlands and the Stormlands, I sighed from relief. Maybe I'd misjudged Edric, or perhaps he simply wasn't ready to put the life of his daughter and grand-daughter in danger. Whatever the case, he'd showed kindness at the worst time.
War was inevitable. The moment my retinue entered the Stormlands, I sent Ser Horas forth to carry out the word that I was raising my banners. There was no question who we'd be fighting against, but the reason was something I'd considered for a long time. First I'd intended to take the Iron Throne for myself, then I'd decided to instate Malora on it instead - but now I did not want any part in it. I was thirsty for vengeance, but by killing Edric and taking the Iron Throne for myself or my wife would only make me yet another usurper in the people's eyes. So I turned to another option.
The Targaryens had united the Seven Kingdoms - or the nine regions as some people called them them - with blood and fire, but the time of dragons was over. The only living individual was the last surviving one of Daenerys's three, Viserion, who'd built itself a lair in Pyke after escaping from Victarion Greyjoy's son. The Iron Islands had been independent for decades already, and their example had showed the rest of the realm that the Iron Throne's power was not infinite. If I was to free the realm from the Iron Throne and return Westeros to its former state, I wouldn't only be killing Edric but also destroying his legacy. So far there had been many bad and horrible kings, but not ones who'd let the Kingdom be destroyed.
The war was made official the moment I rallied my banners. As expected, I received a word from Lord Ryan Tully, Edmure Tully's son and the husband of my half-sister Anora that I had full support of the Riverlands in the upcoming war. In addition Lord Melwyn Lannister declared that he'd side with the Stormlands as well. It was a pleasant surprise, but not an unexpected one - he'd been part of my plot to murder Prince Jerion after all.
Together our three realms could easily raise a host of nearly ninety-thousand men strong. I was not sure if that would be enough, but Lord Ryan was a seasoned commander and I knew that working together with him we might just survive the war. Lord Melwyn on the other hand was a fat drunkard with little aptitude for warfare, but at least his armies would come in use. Not long after I received a word from another major noble. Garlan Tyrell's son, Lord Jaden Tyrell informed me that the Reach would also back me in the war. The letter also included regards from my sister Anora. Being a Tyrell from her mother, Lady Margaery's side, she must've used her connections to my benefit. I couldn't help but to smile.
Lord Rickon Stark of the North, Lord Harrold Arryn of the Vale and Lady Emberlei Martell of Dorne declared for King Edric, evening the odds. Each side was backed by the armies of four regions, if not counting the turmoil in the Reach. After Lord Jaden Tyrell declared he'd take up arms on my side, half the Reach decided to do otherwise. Troubled by a civil war, the Reach seemed to be occupied for the upcoming months - making the Stormlands stand alone with the Crownlands and Dorne advancing towards the Stormlands from both north and south.
The stark words of House Stark always eventually come true, but the conditions were better on the Kingsroad than when we'd set off. The spring had arrived, but I knew that its coming wouldn't make the war any easier. Seeds would have to be planted, and there was other work to be done as well. Spring has always been commonly known as a time for new beginnings, but it seemed that this spring would mark the beginning of something else entirely.
Lord Quellon Dondarrion of Tarth, or the Delicate Lighting as he was more commonly known, was the first vassal of mine to refuse my call for war. I'd taken the Stormlands from him and by that given him a good reason to dislike me. Still, he hadn't been as foolish as Lord Swygert of Galemont who soon declared for King Edric instead. The war had to start from somewhere, and so I sent a word to all my bannermen to rally outside Galemont. Troops of the perjurer Lord Swygert were easily crushed as Stormlanders arrived from all directions, regrouping close the border to Crownlands yet still staying in defence of Storm's End. Having travelled from King's Landing, I personally was there to witness the first casualties of the war. My first thought was to send Malora and Argella to Storm's End while I myself would take over the command of the army once it was rallied, but fate had something else in mind.
The Arbor fleet had sailed past Dorne and brought over six-thousand Reachmen to my doorsteps. I knew they wouldn't be able to take Storm's End, not for months at least, but their presence was an annoyance. The Stormlands could muster close to thirty-thousand men, outnumbering the Redwynes five-to-one. They needed to be wiped out before Edric marched south, seeking for battle. And so, once most of the army was rallied and organised, I led them south to break the siege of Storm's End.
I'd feared that the Redwynes would retreat to their ships the moment my army was close, but instead the Reachmen met us in a battle. Numbers mean heavens to common soldiers, whose moral is highly affected by which army has more men. When the Stormlander army, several times bigger than theirs, entered the fight under the walls of Storm's End, what followed was chaos. Lines of the Reachmen broke, and suddenly every man was to himself. Though still suffering from the injuries I'd sustained under torture, I personally partook the fight and led the cavalry charge of the center that shattered the enemy army in half. My own plate armor was still inside the fortress, but I was clad in a costly armor I'd received from one of my vassals for this fight.
While amidst the fighting, one of the Reachmen did the opposite as his comrades. Instead of turning around and riding away, a man at arms wearing the Redwyne colors in his surcoat turned his steed towards me and galloped in my direction. I moved my Valyrian steel sword Fire in the way of his attack when he rode past me, and metal struck against metal. Having noticed his attempt was futile, the rider turned his horse around and rode out to meet me once more. I already prepared to shove my blade in his gut this time when his ride suddenly came to an end - Ser Guyard Buckler, clad in his white armor of a Kingsguard, had shoved a spear on the way of the rider.
Ser Guyard was the grandson of Lord of Wendwater, and one day he would've inherited the lands. Instead he'd chosen a different path when my father offered him the white cloak of a Kingsguard. After King Tommen left for the Stepstones, Ser Guyard served as my personal bodyguard. Even after Edric had seized the throne, he'd continued to do so nevertheless. Ser Guyard had chosen to side with me in this war against his rightful King, making him an outcast among the Seven but also a comrade whose loyalty couldn't be questioned. He gave me half-a-nod before dismounting his horse and walking over to the wounded knight. The dying horse had crushed its rider's lower torso when falling down, doing lethal damage even despite the armor he wore.
The battle had turned into a victory, and wherever I gazed I saw Stormlanders cheering and giving the Stranger's mercy to the wounded.
No prisoners, I'd ordered before the battle. Not only had the Arbor defied their liege Jaden Tyrell, but also marched to war against him. This was the first major battle of the war, and I knew its result would be known throughout the Westeros. I wasn't playing a war, and anyone standing in the way of my vengeance would now know it. Especially Lord Cleyton Redwyne of Arbor.
Ser Guyard exchanged a few words with the lethally injured knight before he passed on, learning his identity as well. Ser Eustace Redwyne was the second son of the currently reigning Lord of the Arbor - and the leader of the army-that-was-no-more. I recalled a bit of their family history - Lord Cleyton was the son of mad Hobber Redwyne, also known as the 'Wild Thorn'. He was still alive, but served in the Night's Watch for some crime he'd committed during Lord Garlan Tyrell's reign. Perhaps the seed of madness had gotten a grip of Ser Eustace as well, for only an insane man would stay put if an enemy army five times their size in number was approaching.
The first blood had been shed, and the total annihilation of the Redwyne host lifted everyone's spirits - even mine. Backed by capable soldiers and my closest friends in a war against those that meant to harm all that I held dear, I felt more alive than in a long time. Celebrations over our victory proved to be short, however - the same evening our scouts reported that the royal army was approaching, led by none else than the King himself. His host outnumbered mine for not all of the Stormlanders had rallied yet, but it was too late to regroup elsewhere. The wolves were at the door, and there was no going back. The next battle could determine the outcome of the war, and I would embrace the chance to meet my enemy face-to-face.
