As the youngest brother of King Robert Baratheon, the Master of Laws on the Small Council, and the Lord of Storm's End, Renly Baratheon possessed a reputation that preceded him.
Yet unlike many powerful nobles, Renly did not project an intimidating or domineering presence.
Instead, he gave off a feeling of warmth and charm.
His voice was deep and pleasant to hear, and a gentle smile almost always rested on his lips. He carried himself with effortless grace, and his manners were impeccable.
However, for Jon, whose worldview had recently expanded beyond anything he had ever imagined, looking directly into Renly's blue-green eyes felt strangely uncomfortable.
There was something about them—something sharp hidden beneath the friendliness—that made Jon instinctively uneasy.
He quickly lowered his head and motioned for Bronn, who had been chatting casually nearby, to step forward.
"Lord Renly," Jon said respectfully, "this is the head of Gregor Clegane. Lord Karl ordered me to deliver it to House Martell."
As he spoke, Jon gestured to the black wooden box that Bronn carried.
Bronn stepped forward, holding the box with both hands, preparing to open it so Renly could confirm the contents.
However, Renly immediately waved his hand.
"There is no need."
His tone remained calm and pleasant.
The Duke glanced down at the grilled fish on the table before him and smiled faintly.
"Forgive me, Ser Jon, but perhaps we can postpone this matter for a while."
"I would prefer not to have my pleasant lunch interrupted by the sight of a severed head."
He lightly touched the side of his nose, pretending to cover it.
"Besides, there may also be the smell of decay."
Renly chuckled softly.
"I am not a vulture from the deserts of Dorne."
"Nor do I have the habit of using a dead head as a side dish."
His smile remained elegant and relaxed.
It was clear that Renly preferred things that were clean and refined.
Everything about him reflected this preference.
His shoulder-length black hair was always neat and carefully combed. His chin was smooth and completely shaved, leaving not even the faintest trace of stubble.
He seemed to have a slight obsession with cleanliness and presentation.
Jon looked slightly embarrassed.
"Forgive me, Lord Renly."
For a moment he almost scratched his head out of habit, but he quickly stopped himself.
Such a gesture would have been inappropriate in front of a high lord.
Renly waved his hand kindly.
"Please, Ser Jon, there is no need for apologies."
He gestured toward the food.
"Come, sit and eat."
"I hope you enjoy the sturgeon from the Stormlands. The meat is tender and has very few bones."
"It tastes wonderful when roasted with lemon."
Renly smiled warmly.
"Tonight, I will prepare a far grander feast to celebrate the gift you have brought."
He spoke as if the current meal were merely a casual lunch.
Jon nodded quickly.
"Yes, my lord."
Despite his attempt to appear calm, he felt awkward.
He had never received such treatment before.
Soon the kitchen servants brought dishes into the hall.
Jon was seated to the right of Renly Baratheon, sharing the same table as the king's brother.
Bronn and the others naturally found seats nearby.
Meanwhile, the box containing Gregor Clegane's head was placed carefully beside Bronn.
He rested one hand casually on the lid while waiting for his own food to arrive.
During the meal, Renly constantly attempted to draw Jon into conversation.
His speech was witty and full of humor, and he occasionally asked about events in King's Landing.
However, Jon still felt uneasy beneath Renly's gaze.
He answered questions politely but briefly, often sounding somewhat stiff and dull.
Despite this, Renly and Ser Loras Tyrell occasionally reacted with amazement while listening to Jon's account.
"Ser Karl sounds extraordinary," Renly said with admiration.
"I never imagined the Mountain would last only a few moves before losing his head."
He shook his head slightly.
"In his youth, even my brother Robert might not have matched such valor."
"Though Robert often boasts about smashing Prince Rhaegar's chest with his warhammer."
Renly laughed lightly.
Beside him, Ser Loras Tyrell, the famous Knight of Flowers, listened with shining eyes.
"I would love to face this Karl in a tournament," Loras declared confidently.
"I would bring twenty lances if necessary—until I achieved victory."
His bold words drew laughter from Renly.
Jon glanced at Loras.
The knight appeared young and slender.
His armor was beautifully polished, decorated with the sigil of House Tyrell—three golden roses blooming on a green field.
Jon studied him quietly.
To be honest, he struggled to imagine this elegant knight standing before Karl Stone on a battlefield.
Karl fought with a massive two-handed warhammer, capable of smashing armored riders and horses alike.
Sometimes even the enemy's horse became a weapon in his hands.
The man was feared by enemies and respected by allies.
He carried many titles.
"Bloodwind Karl."
"The Bloodied."
"Son of Death."
"Avatar of the Stranger."
Remembering that terrifying warrior, Jon swallowed slightly.
Still, he said politely:
"That would certainly be an exciting battle."
"I hope I will have the honor of witnessing it someday."
His tone sounded respectful, even flattering.
But in his mind, Jon couldn't help imagining the outcome.
He pictured Karl charging across the field, his warhammer raised high.
Perhaps the slender Knight of Flowers would be lifted onto a lance like a trophy.
Then Karl might ride a victory lap around the arena.
Jon suddenly remembered that the tournament champion received a wreath of flowers.
And Loras was known as the Knight of Flowers.
For a moment Jon wondered—
Would the champion crown the Queen of Love and Beauty, or would the "flower" belong to the wreath itself?
Realizing his thoughts were impolite, Jon quickly lowered his head and focused on his food.
Renly and Loras did not notice his expression.
Renly laughed loudly and said confidently:
"Believe me, when my brother returns to King's Landing, he will hold a grand tournament."
"I am just as eager as you to see who will become the champion."
He exchanged a glance with Loras.
"If I win," Loras said with a smile, "I will personally crown the true queen as the Queen of Love and Beauty."
Renly and Loras looked at one another and smiled.
Jon blinked.
He wasn't entirely sure he understood the meaning behind their exchange.
Perhaps he had simply misheard.
To hide his confusion, he stuffed another piece of fish into his mouth.
The grilled fish tasted excellent.
The lemon juice removed the fishy smell while enhancing the flavor.
The meat was tender and juicy.
For a moment, Jon thought Renly had not exaggerated at all.
The food truly was delicious.
Thanks to Renly's cheerful personality and skillful hosting, the meal passed pleasantly.
Yet Jon still struggled to adjust to his new status.
Back in the North, he had only been a bastard—a boy with little importance.
At banquets he usually sat near the end of the hall.
When the lords were busy drinking and talking, he would quietly pour himself extra wine.
No one paid attention to him.
But here, everything was different.
He was treated as Ser Jon, an honored guest.
People watched him constantly.
The attention made him uncomfortable.
Fortunately, Renly's laughter eased some of the tension.
After several rounds of conversation, Jon began to relax slightly.
Still, Renly's friendliness felt strangely unsettling.
Especially when Renly and Loras exchanged quiet jokes or whispered comments.
Jon glanced pleadingly toward Bronn.
Bronn sat nearby drinking with soldiers.
But one hand never left the box containing the Mountain's head.
After thinking for a moment, Jon decided to speak.
"Lord Renly," he said carefully.
"Please forgive my rudeness."
"Before I left, Lord Karl instructed me to deliver the Mountain's head to House Martell as soon as possible."
"He said the war should end."
"Too many innocent people have already been drawn into this storm."
Renly tapped his fingers lightly against the armrest of his chair.
His smile remained calm.
"Yes… I agree."
"We all hope this absurd war will end soon."
He sighed softly.
"Besides, the climate here is terribly unpleasant."
Renly continued casually.
"I have heard news from King's Landing and the Riverlands."
"If Dorne is not as isolated as people believe, Prince Oberyn must already know everything."
Then he stood.
"Shall we go and visit him?"
Soon the group left the castle.
Renly rode beside Jon, while Ser Loras Tyrell followed closely behind on his white warhorse.
Their escort numbered more than one hundred men.
They traveled along the Boneway, heading toward the Dornish army camped outside Blackport.
Apparently the Dornish had already received word of their arrival.
They showed no hostility.
After checking the guards, they allowed Renly and his companions into the main camp.
As the sun began to set, Jon followed Renly into the large command tent.
Inside, a man lounged lazily on a chair covered with tiger skin.
His chest was bare.
In one hand he held a golden wine cup.
His eyes were dark and sharp—like those of a viper.
This was Prince Oberyn Martell.
Renly greeted him with a friendly smile.
"Prince Oberyn, I am pleased to see you."
Oberyn slowly sat up.
His expression was cold.
"Personally," he said slowly, "I would rather see you on the battlefield, Renly."
He pulled a dagger from somewhere and placed it on the table.
His eyes shifted toward Loras.
"And the pretty boy from House Tyrell behind you."
Loras stepped forward angrily.
"You are very confident, Prince Oberyn."
"But if we meet on the battlefield, it may be you riding in Lord Renly's prisoner cart."
Oberyn laughed.
"Your confidence comes from that flower behind you?"
He looked at Loras with open disdain.
"I see only someone decorating himself with flowers…"
"Then lying in bed."
"Flower girl, the bed is your battlefield."
His words struck like poisoned daggers.
Loras's face turned red with anger.
He stepped forward, ready to challenge Oberyn.
But Renly quickly placed a hand on his shoulder.
His expression became colder.
"We came here to avoid meeting on the battlefield."
Oberyn raised an eyebrow.
"Then what?"
"Do you prefer meeting in bed?"
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)