"Your Grace!"
Inside the hall, Lord Mace Tyrell led the lords of the Reach in paying homage to King Renly I.
Outside, warhorses neighed, weapons clashed, soldiers shouted, and wagon wheels rolled across stone, creating an intense atmosphere of war and military might.
Renly Baratheon was not only untroubled by the noise beyond the walls, but felt more at ease and joyful for it.
The sounds were the declaration of sixty thousand strong men, proof that the Highgarden allied forces had arrived at Stonebridge. It was the resounding horn heralding his inevitable victory.
Finally, the two armies had joined forces! And Joffrey remained trapped at Storm's End!
Renly longed to order the camp struck and attack immediately!
However, this was the first personal meeting between the two sides since the war began, and certain formalities of greeting and communication could not be dispensed with.
"Rise quickly," Renly said.
He descended from the throne with a friendly air, a smile upon his face, and personally helped his betrothed's father to his feet.
The assembled lords and generals rose accordingly.
After this show of courtesy, servants emerged from dark corners and passages to attend the guests, offering fine wines and food, playing music, and performing for the nobility. The grand farewell banquet commenced in earnest.
The atmosphere warmed gradually, and the guests allowed themselves smiles, enjoying this final revelry before war.
Renly seated himself intimately beside Lord Mace.
"Lord Mace, is Lady Olenna well? It has been many days since I've heard the teachings of the 'Queen of Thorns'—truly memorable."
At the mention of his nagging mother, the smug expression on the face of "Pufferfish" Lord Mace instantly diminished. "Thank you for your concern, Your Grace. She is doing well."
"When I left Highgarden, I could still hear her familiar loud voice and her sharp instructions."
Lord Mace seemed to be mocking himself.
"That scene must be very heartwarming." Renly studied his future father-in-law while revealing nothing of his thoughts.
Lord Mace, in his forties or fifties, had grown somewhat fat, but his face still retained the appearance of his youth. The Tyrell family's characteristic brown hair was curly and thick, and his triangular beard was streaked with gray.
He looked every bit the dignified and wise elder lord.
"Warm...heartwarming." Lord Mace hesitated, but still dared not speak ill of his mother. "Yes, with Margaery and the others taking care of her, Mother naturally won't feel lonely."
"That's good. Lord Mace and I can rest assured."
Renly understood perfectly well that the clever, sharp, and resolute "Queen of Thorns" Olenna Redwyne was the true power behind Highgarden, with Lord Mace serving as little more than a figurehead.
Whether in politics, military affairs, or diplomacy, Lord Mace's talents fell far short of his own estimation.
Just like his nickname—"Pufferfish."
But it was precisely because of this that the Tyrell family had joined this war so decisively. Otherwise, who could say how much trouble there might have been?
Renly smiled.
"I hope the war ends soon, so that we may hold an unprecedented wedding at the Red Keep, and I might place the crown upon your lovely daughter's head."
The king's words were laden with temptation.
"At that time, the royal family and the Tyrell family will truly become one, ruling the Seven Kingdoms together."
"The war will end soon, Your Grace." Lord Mace lifted his chin. "Highgarden will do everything in its power to ensure this, and win back the Seven Kingdoms for you!"
Renly responded with a smile. "For me, and even more for the fruit of Margaery's and my union—the future little prince."
"Of course, for the little prince. Of course..." Lord Mace's eyes grew unfocused, already lost in pleasant dreams of the future.
Renly quietly rose and made his way toward his next target.
Compared to the proud "Pufferfish," this renowned general would undoubtedly prove more helpful in the coming conflict.
"Lord Randyll Tarly, it has been too long."
The balding Lord Randyll, with his short, stiff gray beard, embodied toughness. "Your Grace, I still remember your heroic appearance at the tournament, merely half a year ago."
The blunt statement seemed almost a rebuke to the king's face.
Renly showed neither surprise nor particular reaction to this. "I also recall that Joffrey forcibly turned your eldest son into a maester's apprentice in the name of the royal family. His decree is invalid—your eldest son can legally return to Horn Hill."
Randyll Tarly's expression remained unchanged. "What's done is done, and House Tarly harbors no regrets. Let him continue his scholarly pursuits."
"Is that so..."
Renly suddenly remembered that Randyll Tarly had always despised his cowardly eldest son.
Could this have been some manner of arrangement?
Did Joffrey possess that kind of cunning? No, absolutely impossible.
The brief suspicion was quickly extinguished.
Nevertheless, Renly's mood had darkened somewhat at the thought.
He withdrew a document and handed it to Randyll Tarly.
"The two thousand cavalry sent to Massey's Hook have completely lost contact, vanished without a trace. The border between the Crownlands and the Stormlands has been sealed by the forces of Lord Massey and other lords loyal to Joffrey. We cannot obtain further information."
"Lord Randyll," Renly asked gravely, "what is your counsel?"
Randyll Tarly read the intelligence report carefully and swiftly, his expression growing ever more solemn. "Your Grace, in my judgment, we should prepare for the worst."
Renly's smile vanished entirely.
Randyll Tarly continued his analysis with cold precision. "The royal fleets of King's Landing and Dragonstone hold absolute advantage at sea. Massey's Hook is narrow and exposed to the water on both sides. Our forces would inevitably find themselves at a disadvantage there, with the possibility of attack greatly increased."
"To speak plainly," Randyll Tarly looked directly at the king, "we should never have divided our forces and ventured far afield from the beginning. The person who proposed this plan is nothing short of a fool!"
His harsh voice drew the attention of many present.
Their eyes quickly turned toward Lord Bryce Caron of Nightsong in the distance, making him visibly uncomfortable, though he could not discern the reason.
Renly sighed. "We cannot blame Lord Caron. I agreed to this plan to draw Joffrey out from behind his fortress walls, hoping to end the war with all possible speed."
"A pity..." Renly shook his head regretfully.
Randyll Tarly felt compelled to offer words of comfort. "Refugees pour into King's Landing in great numbers. Their food reserves must be severely depleted by now. And even if our two thousand cavalry were attacked, the enemy's losses would not be insignificant. As for our failure to lure the enemy out..."
Randyll Tarly recalled Prince Joffrey at the tournament. "Perhaps the enemy we face is not as foolish as we believed."
"It's merely good fortune on his part." An older man approached slowly and bowed to the king.
Renly acknowledged him with a nod. The newcomer was Randyll Tarly's father-in-law, Lord Alester Florent of Brightwater Keep.
"This time, did he not flee before us?" The Lord of Brightwater Keep continued. "It shows he lacks true wisdom. Your Grace will eventually reclaim what is rightfully yours."
Renly's lips curled into a smile once more. "Of that, I have no doubt."
Indeed.
Storm's End, the sea, and fifty thousand men would form an indestructible and airtight cage. They need only wait for the army to arrive, then attack from within and without. What chance did a mere five thousand defenders have?
Renly gave his order to Randyll Tarly: "You shall lead the vanguard. Depart immediately!"
"Yes, Your Grace."
Randyll Tarly agreed with firm resolve.