On the southern bank of the Blackwater Rush, thousands of banners fluttered in the wind as a vast army stood ready for battle.
Within Gendry's camp, two massive trebuchets roared to life, hurling enormous stones toward King's Landing. Nearby, soldiers had already prepared dozens of rafts, though none had yet been pushed into the river.
"Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!"
Golden battle banners rippled across the battlefield like waves of ripened wheat beneath the sun.
Alongside Gendry's personal quartered banner—bearing the dragon, crowned stag, direwolf, and the broken shackles of the freed slaves—the banners of House Baratheon flew proudly in every direction. The crowned stag of King Robert leaped across countless standards, a symbol that many within King's Landing still recognized and respected.
Despite this, Gendry remained far from optimistic about the city's ability to rise against the Lannisters.
First, Varys possessed an extensive intelligence network throughout King's Landing. Second, the Lannisters had spent years buying loyalty with gold. Even the Kingsguard and many of the City Watch had long since fallen under their influence.
As for the common people...
The citizens of King's Landing excelled at rioting, complaining, and surviving, but very few had any desire to become soldiers or fight in a siege.
Perhaps only the more passionate members of the Beggars' Brotherhood and a handful of loyal followers of King Robert will answer my call, Gendry thought.
Robert Baratheon had once been a legendary warrior—bold, generous, and full of laughter. Even after his death, many still remembered him fondly.
Gendry raised his eyes toward King's Landing.
The city sprawled across the landscape like a gigantic beast resting beside the Blackwater Rush.
Built under the command of Aegon the Conqueror, it was both the youngest and the largest city in Westeros.
Its walls bristled with ballistae and flamethrowers. Although King's Landing lacked seasoned soldiers, it possessed no shortage of skilled craftsmen capable of constructing formidable defenses.
Above everything towered the Red Keep atop Visenya's Hill.
Its towering walls, reinforced gates, and massive stone fortifications overlooked both the river and the harbor like a predator waiting for prey.
Steep cliffs covered with moss and thorn bushes protected its western side, forcing any attacking fleet to sail directly beneath the castle before entering Blackwater Bay.
More importantly...
Tyrion had completed the construction of two massive winch towers.
One stood beneath the cliffs of the Red Keep on the northern bank.
The second had been erected on the southern shore with its foundations sunk directly into the river.
A deep trench surrounded the southern tower, making a direct assault nearly impossible. Any attacking force would either have to wade through deep water or construct a bridge under enemy fire.
"The marksmen are ready, Your Highness," Ser Barristan Selmy reported.
These elite archers had been selected specifically to neutralize Tyrion's winch towers.
Ordinary bows would not suffice.
Instead, they had assembled the finest yew longbowmen in the Stormlands, together with master archers from the Summer Isles.
"What a crafty Imp," Gendry muttered.
"Tell the longbowmen to prepare."
"At once."
Barristan hesitated before continuing.
"The fleet has been delayed. Part of it has already been detached and placed under the command of the Onion Knight and Moros."
"The army marching through the Kingsroad and the Kingswood traveled much faster than the fleet. Overland movement proved far more reliable than the sea."
Although Gendry and Stannis had reached Dragonstone quickly aboard fast ships, the main fleet departing from Storm's End had encountered countless delays.
Hidden reefs.
Violent storms.
Unpredictable currents.
Every mile of sea had presented another obstacle.
On top of that, a considerable portion of the Two Cities Fleet had already been reassigned to Davos Seaworth and Moros for separate operations.
"Perhaps that's for the best," Gendry replied calmly.
"I've prepared the overall strategy, but only the Onion Knight and Moros are capable of commanding those detached squadrons effectively."
Among everyone present, Davos knew the waters around King's Landing better than anyone.
He, Moros, and Salladhor Saan had spent much of their lives commanding ships.
Stannis himself was no amateur either. As Robert's former Master of Ships, few men in Westeros possessed greater naval experience.
Destiny had once again brought every major power toward King's Landing.
Who would emerge victorious?
Would the lion and the rose arrive together?
Would the fleets from the east appear before the battle ended?
No one knew.
"Increase the rate of fire for the trebuchets and archers for a while," Gendry ordered.
"Then stop."
"Tell every soldier to conserve their strength."
"The real battle hasn't begun yet."
"As you command."
The lords immediately carried out the order.
Many Stormlords were eager to charge into battle immediately.
Yet everyone understood that heavy cavalry armed with twelve-foot lances was of little use in a siege.
The Blackwater Rush was too wide.
King's Landing's walls were too high.
Charging recklessly would accomplish nothing.
Barristan fought for honor.
Most of the other nobles fought for rewards.
Land.
Castles.
Gold.
Titles.
Hostages.
The wealthy Westerlands offered endless prizes to whoever emerged victorious.
As war horns echoed across the battlefield, the entire southern battle line sprang into motion.
Stormlands longbowmen raised their bows.
Trebuchets groaned as their massive throwing arms accelerated.
Huge stones flew toward the distant city walls.
"The reserve forces from the Vale and Crackclaw Point are to remain hidden inside the woods," Gendry instructed Robar Royce and Dumb Harry.
"They are not to move without my signal."
"As you command."
The two young commanders saluted before riding off.
Beyond the forest, thousands of Vale cavalry and Crackclaw soldiers waited in silence beneath the trees.
The elite cavalry remained perfectly still.
The heavily armored soldiers watched the battlefield without speaking.
They were waiting.
Waiting for the decisive moment.
Nearby, the Red Priestess stood quietly among the command staff.
Her role was not to fight on the front lines.
She was there to guard against any supernatural threats that might suddenly appear.
Gendry rested both hands upon the hilt of Orphan-Maker, planting the greatsword firmly into the earth.
"Now..."
"It's Lord Stannis' turn."
The naval battle would determine everything.
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