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Like the north wind blowing snow, the force was fierce. A sword was raised, and the man flew backward. Five or six people were fighting fiercely in the training yard, and upon closer inspection, it was five people surrounding one.
That man moved with extraordinary agility, rarely landing a hit even after more than ten strikes against him. Soon, the five challengers were defeated one after another.
Cole walked to the yard and wiped the sweat from his face with a cloth. "My lord, a raven has brought a letter from Dragonstone," Gilbert said, approaching him while he rested and handing him the message.
"It seems they received our message." He unfolded the letter and read its contents. The letter stated only one thing: to bring Mace Tyrell to Storm's End immediately. In his message to Dragonstone, Cole had asked Stannis to move the fleet to Shipbreaker Bay to prepare for the battle that would likely begin soon.
The fleet from the Arbor had not come last time, but this time it was possible. Though the Royal Fleet was badly damaged, it was still better than the few broken ships outside Storm's End. "Send someone to fetch Captain Morkunas," he instructed Gilbert.
Cole intended to have this reliable captain take Lord Tyrell to Dragonstone. It didn't matter where the prisoner stayed. He couldn't help but wonder if the queen's allies would want to sacrifice Lord Mace. Shortly after Gilbert departed, Camillo, who was responsible for patrolling the castle walls, approached with another letter.
Who could it be this time? "My lord, a messenger claiming to be from King's Landing has delivered a letter to the base of the castle," Camillo reported. King's Landing? Cole took the letter, which bore the royal wax seal. He unfolded it and was stunned by the first line.
[King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, "Joffrey Baratheon I" personally decrees: Sir Cole of House Julius, who made outstanding contributions in the Battle of Riverrun, is hereby pardoned and named Duke of Storm's End, Protector of the Stormlands, and Governor of the Stormlands] Cole's heart churned like a stormy sea.
He could never have imagined they would make such a grand gesture. At the end of the letter, he was ordered to serve as Master of Ships in King's Landing and to attend the Small Council to serve King Joffrey. Cole suddenly shook his head and smiled, then sealed the envelope. This letter was probably not written by Tywin.
At this moment, Gilbert returned with the Myrish captain. Cole handed him the letter and ordered, "Seal this with my coat of arms." "Lord Cole, what is this letter?" Gilbert took it and glanced at the wax seal. "It came from King's Landing.
I think it's best if His Grace takes a look at it." "Very well, I'll have someone prepare a raven right away.
" Cole shook his head. "No ravens. I'm planning to have Captain Morkunas sail to Dragonstone. Give him the letter after you've sealed it." He asked a servant to fetch a bucket of water.
Cole washed the sweat from his body and later climbed into a steaming bath. Though he couldn't feel the extreme heat, his skin still turned slightly red. The hot water seemed to ease his fatigue. He even felt his wounds healing faster in the heat.
When he had rescued Storm's End, he had suffered a minor injury to his hand. Now, even the scar had disappeared. Half-lying in the bathtub, he groaned contentedly. He was finally living the life of a noble lord—eating fine white wheat bread every day, soft and delicious, sweet to taste. In Tyrion's words, it was like a woman's body.
He drank fine wine made from grapes, which some used instead of water, but he still preferred it as a condiment, relying on boiled water to quench his thirst. He could wear soft, beautiful velvet and satin garments, sleep on a feather bed, and wear soft leather boots.
But how long could such a life last? Stannis was defeated, and Cole knew he couldn't live a stable life even if he defended Storm's End. It's difficult to advance by following the Stag. Perhaps I should raise dragons instead.
"My lord, dozens of villagers have arrived and are demanding to see you," Gilbert reported urgently.
Cole shook the water droplets from his hair. "Bring them to the hall." He took the cotton towel handed to him by a servant and dried his hair. His silver hair had grown just past his ears, and Cole tied it back with a black cord. Sitting on the antlered chair in the great hall, he waited as the villagers slowly entered. Looking at the silver-haired man with a sword standing by the throne, the previously noisy crowd suddenly fell silent.
Their expressions turned timid and nervous as the spear-wielding guards ushered them forward. Cole placed his sword beside the chair. "Tell me your needs and concerns.
" Only when prompted did someone dare speak. "My Lord Duke, a large band of raiders came from the Kingswood. They burned and looted our village, killing countless people." As soon as he finished, the hall erupted with crying and complaints.
Cole knew without doubt that it must be Tormund and his men. The free folk were accustomed to raiding, and such habits would not change quickly. Though he could restrain them as their leader, he needed their wildness and fighting prowess now. This matter put him in a difficult position.
Should he ignore these villagers and let the free folk continue, or should he restrain them? But could he truly control them? Unless he forced them to leave the Kingswood entirely. But after bringing them here with such effort, where else could they go? The suffering of these innocent people was truly unfortunate but unavoidable.
Cole could only attempt to solve the problem step by step. He decided to let these villages move out of the Kingswood, agreeing to divide some land for them to rebuild their homes.
When he had first considered moving the free folk into the Kingswood, he had actually weighed these matters. First, the Kingswood had experienced several wars, and many natives had fled or died, with only a few villages surviving.
Second, war demanded ruthlessness. What were a few villagers compared to four thousand free folk warriors? But now he couldn't be so callous. Looking at their hungry and helpless eyes, he could only do what was within his power.
After all, these people suffered because of his decisions. Fortunately, relocating these people wouldn't require much effort. Because of the war, many empty manors stood abandoned nearby, perfect for resettling these villagers.
But Cole realized this must be just the first wave. There would be many more victims throughout the Kingswood. It would become problematic if they all rushed to Storm's End Castle. The surrounding manors would be far from enough to accommodate all the natives of the entire Kingswood.
How should he solve this problem? He couldn't simply keep moving people out of the Kingswood indefinitely. Cole couldn't devise a better solution.
After weighing the advantages and disadvantages, he still felt that the wildlings were more important to him. At least for now. Since he couldn't resolve it completely, he would let the people in King's Landing worry about it.
After all, much of the Kingswood fell within the Crownlands. They could blame Tywin later. Aren't they making me a duke? Then I'll return the favor.