Robb Stark assigned two or three dozen reliable guards to Catelyn's envoy mission, and five nobles traveled with her. Their bloodlines and titles would lend her party greater weight.
They rode south from Riverrun, keeping away from towns and castles. Smoke rose in great columns along the eastern horizon, but fortunately no one came to harass them. Aside from the Riverlands, where the fighting was fierce, the other regions were much safer.
When Catelyn and her companions were still half a day from the camp at Storm's End, Renly's scouts found them. An old knight with a graying beard led twenty seasoned riders, and he bore the mark of a blue bird.
"My lady," the old knight called, "I am Ser Colen of Greenpools, at your service. You are in danger here."
"Our mission is urgent," she replied. "I come as the messenger of Lord Gendry, King Robert's lawful heir, to meet with the Great Lord of Storm's End, Renly Baratheon."
"Lord Renly has already been formally crowned and anointed as King of the Seven Kingdoms, my lady," the old knight replied, still very courteous. "His Grace should be encamped beneath Storm's End with his army. It would be my great honor to escort you there."
Catelyn glanced at him and knew this was no time for argument.
"What a strong castle." Catelyn Stark saw Storm's End standing enormous beneath the sky, like a pale gray fist raised toward the heavens, completely blocking the vast sea behind it. Storm's End stood atop the great cliffs of Cape Durran, overlooking the dangerous rocks of Shipbreaker Bay. The sea wind carried the taste of the east, a heavy tang of salt. From Storm's End, facing Shipbreaker Bay, one could also see the sapphire island of Tarth.
Storm's End was famed for its grandeur and strength, unlike the elegance of Highgarden or The Eyrie. It stood proudly above the sea like a fierce and savage warrior. The armies beneath it looked small and helpless, like mice waving banners. Farther off, some trees had already been cut down to prepare small siege towers and catapults.
Storm's End's outer wall was a full hundred feet high. It had no arrow slits and no hidden doors, and the great stones were fitted together with exquisite precision, rounded into one smooth whole, curved and seamless, without sharp corners or gaps for wind and rain to breach. The narrowest part of the wall was said to be forty feet thick, while the seaward side was nearly eighty. The wall was made of two layers of massive stone with sand, gravel, and rubble packed between them. The inner structure of the castle, however, was relatively simple. Storm's End had only one tower, a giant drum tower that held its granaries, barracks, feast hall, and noble quarters all within it.
Renly Baratheon's summons had spread through the Seven Kingdoms. There were men fighting for him, but not many, mainly Stormlands lords who could not refuse him without losing face. Since Highgarden had not acted together with them as the Stormlands lords had expected, the Stormlands alone would find it hard to claim much of the spoils.
The Stormlands camp stood on the landward side of Storm's End. Besides the banners of House Baratheon, the lords of the Stormlands had raised their own. They were Renly's direct vassals, sworn to House Baratheon and Storm's End.
In the camp, Catelyn Stark recognized House Caron's nightingale banner, Penrose's quill, and Lord Estermont's banner, a green sea turtle floating on a green sea. There were also lesser lords sworn to local nobles, along with hedge knights and freeriders.
Catelyn saw Renly's own banner flying high above the rest. On his tallest siege tower, atop the great rawhide-covered oak wheelhouse, the battle flag of a black stag on gold flew tall, leaping and proud.
"I should not have come here. I belong with the young children at Winterfell and the sick, dying old man at Riverrun. But this is Gendry's command and Robb's request. I must speak for them." Catelyn thought that if Eddard Stark were still alive, this task would have been his. Eddard had been Robert's closest friend and could just barely be counted as an elder to Stannis and Renly. Years ago, Eddard had come south to lift the siege of Storm's End, and that had been a great victory. More than ten years later, war had come again.
Yet Catelyn knew it would be very hard to persuade Renly and Stannis. Stannis, she knew, was always cold as iron, and though Renly was a young lordling, he was proud as well, and had already raised his rebel banners. If she asked them to kneel before their younger "legitimized" nephew, neither man would be pleased. Still, for the future of the realm, she had to come.
"These forces were gathered in haste. They lack a fleet, and there are not that many soldiers," one of Catelyn's attendants whispered. Although the Stormlands produced great sailors and seamen, Storm's End had few ships. Its location was not suited for warships or merchant vessels to anchor. The ancient Storm Kings had maintained their fleets at Massey's Hook, Estermont, and the towns and fishing villages along the Dornish Sea. Later kings had also been content to let their fleets anchor off the western coast of Tarth.
There were catapults, scorpions, and battering rams in the camp, along with the tents of lords and knights. There were soldiers of every sort: spearmen, longbowmen, knights, and crossbowmen.
Catelyn estimated their numbers. There were not too many. It seemed the Stormlands lords were also still watching and waiting.
"Hah! Ha!"
From deep inside the camp, Catelyn heard a familiar clamor.
"What is that?" her attendant asked.
Catelyn listened carefully. Roars, horses screaming, weapons clanging, and... "Cheers," Catelyn said. They rode into the camp together, passing brightly colored great tents. There were more and more people, and the noise swelled. Then they saw the tourney ground.
Beside the largest and most splendid tent was a field for the tourney. It seemed that when there was no war to fight, the knights of the Stormlands had not been idle. Men had cleared a field, put up fences, built a lane, and raised stands. Hundreds and thousands had come to watch. It was noisy, muddy, and littered everywhere with broken weapons.
The crowd surged, and the din was deafening. The old knight said to her, "Lady Stark, if your men are willing to remain here, I will take you to see the king."
"Very well," Catelyn shouted. It was so noisy that she had to raise her voice.
Catelyn saw two fully armored warhorses crash together in the tourney field, and then the music of steel rang out.
A red-bearded man without a helmet, whose shield bore a griffin, fought a tall blue knight. The blue knight looked stronger, his armor a deep, dark blue. He swung his blunted morningstar with cold, clean precision. The whistling morningstar smashed into the red griffin, and the red-bearded man fell from his horse. On the armor of the blue knight's mount was House Tarth's quartered sun-and-moon sigil.
"Red Ronnet is down. Gods damn it!" a man cursed.
Another voice echoed, "The Knight of Flowers will teach her a lesson."
Catelyn stared in disbelief. The North was aflame with war, and the true enemy, the Lannisters, still occupied the Riverlands and the Crownlands, yet Renly looked calm and unhurried, watching war games here. By contrast, his nephew had already won several great battles. Was Renly content to be raised on a longspear as a traitor?
Renly, the Knight of Flowers, and the lords were all on a temporary wooden viewing platform. Catelyn recognized some familiar faces. Renly wore a crown and a green velvet coat, with a stag embroidered on the breast in black silk. The black was the traditional color of House Baratheon, but the fresh green was Highgarden's color. The kingly crown he had put on himself, however, was clear usurpation. Its front bore a stag's head of dark emerald, with golden eyes and golden antlers.
"He truly is handsome." Catelyn saw the Knight of Flowers beside the king. Even in the distant North, there were stories of the Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms as a handsome man. He had long, flowing brown hair and beautiful golden eyes. The device on Loras's armor and weapons was three golden roses blooming on green.
"I ask leave to fight the blue knight," Ser Loras said.
"Loras, you may fight for me later. For now, we have a more honored guest." Renly saw the red-haired Catelyn and smiled.
The blue knight drew a dagger and pointed it toward Renly, the victor's salute to the king.
"Please remove your helm," Renly said to the blue knight.
Catelyn saw that brilliant blue armor more clearly as she drew nearer. It was covered in scars, dents from warhammers and maces, gouges cut by longswords, with enamel flaking from the breastplate and helm, and the cloak torn to shreds.
Yet only a few people cheered for the blue knight.
"Long live Tarth!"
Or a stranger cry.
"Beauty!"
Most remained silent as iron, not saying a word.
Catelyn found it strange. "Why is this remarkable man so disliked?" Red Ronnet had lost so wretchedly. Refusing to cheer the victor was not the way of knights. Though she was a lady, Catelyn had seen at least a hundred tourneys in her life, and never one so odd.
Ser Colen frowned. "She is no man, my lady. That is Brienne of House Tarth, daughter of Lord Selwyn the Evenstar."
"A daughter?" Catelyn was stunned.
"Brienne the Beauty, that is what they call her... but no one dares say it to her face unless they are ready for a duel."
"Lady Brienne of House Tarth is among the finest of knights. As one of my Rainbow Guard, she is fully qualified," Renly declared.
"I will become your guard and give my life for you. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, never leave your side, and protect you from every danger."
"I agree. Granted."
Catelyn finally understood why this blue knight was called "Beauty." It was like calling a dwarf a Lannister giant, an insult.
Catelyn felt pity not only for the blue knight's parents, but for the woman herself. It was a strange face to bear, and all the more painful on a woman. In this world, to be an ugly woman was among the greatest misfortunes.
The hair beneath the Tarth maiden's helm was tied in a knot like a squirrel's nest lined with dirty straw, and her face... Brienne's eyes were large and blue, the eyes of a maiden, innocent and direct. But aside from that, her face was round and rough, with a row of uneven, protruding teeth, a frighteningly wide mouth, and lips as thick as caterpillars. Countless freckles crowded across her forehead and cheeks, and her nose looked as though it had been broken many times.
Renly stripped the Tarth girl of her tattered cloak and replaced it with a new green cloak, emblazoned with a charging black stag.
"My life is yours, Your Grace. I swear by the old gods and the new that from this day onward, I am your shield and your sword." The Tarth girl was all smiles, her voice high and proud. She truly was tall. Renly and his brother were nearly of a height, yet the Tarth girl stood a full hand taller than them.
"Your Grace." The old knight rode toward the platform, then knelt on one knee and spoke softly to Renly. "Your Grace, forgive the interruption. I have brought Lady Catelyn to you. She is Gendry's messenger."
"The rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Ser," Catelyn corrected. Then she dismounted and walked to the old knight's side.
The atmosphere instantly grew still. The lords of the Stormlands looked between Renly and Catelyn. None had expected Lady Stark to be the messenger. In that case, the blacksmith had already won the support of the fish and the wolf. Thoughts turned over and over in many lords' hearts. Perhaps it was still too early to enter the game. Perhaps they might end up following the losing side.
Renly looked at Catelyn in surprise. "Lady Catelyn, you are most welcome!"
"I am sorry for what happened to your family," the Knight of Flowers added.
"Thank you," Catelyn said.
"My lady, I swear to you that the Lannisters will pay for murdering the king and Lord Eddard. If I reach King's Landing, I will give you Cersei's head."
"To hear you speak of justice is already enough to satisfy me, my lord. But I think you had best hurry. Your nephew has already assembled a more powerful army and is marching south."
"Your Grace. You should kneel before the king," the Knight of Flowers said sharply.
"The distance between my lord and Your Grace is far smaller than you say, Ser. Lord Renly wears a crown, and so does your nephew. I am the envoy of the Storm..."
The Stormlands lords pricked up their ears. Some began to stir. If the blacksmith took all the fruits of victory, then their waiting beneath Storm's End in the mud and wind would have been meaningless.
Renly smiled. "Well said, my lady. Once the war is over, we will have time to discuss Your Grace and crowns. Tell me, when will that bastard nephew of mine march on Harrenhal?"
Catelyn looked at Renly. She knew a fair amount of the war plan, and in any case, the march south was only a lie. "I attended the Storm's council of war. Once the new winter wolves have been formed, they will march south at once."
"No matter. I should thank him. His achievements have indeed been remarkable. He has drawn away most of the Lannister army. But this game is not over yet. What of the Kingslayer?"
"He is hiding in the Westerlands and does not dare come out. You should have heard. He is now the cripple and the disfigured man of Casterly Rock."
The Knight of Flowers was quite surprised. "He survived wounds that serious? It seems his fate is truly strong."
The Tarth girl widened her eyes as well. "A hand cut off, and his face and nose disfigured?"
Renly smiled. "It seems my bastard nephew is rather gentle. If my elder brother were still alive, the Kingslayer's head would already have been smashed open."
The Stormlands lords listened closely. In truth, they had begun weighing the shape of the war in their hearts.
"Your nephew is already the heir, Lord Renly. Also, before he badly wounded the Kingslayer, he had already killed more than a dozen red cloaks. It was Lannister knights who risked their lives to carry the Kingslayer away. This is not a game on a tourney field," Catelyn answered coldly and firmly.
"You mean that will? I do not acknowledge it. Besides, my elder brother's throne was not something to be settled by a will. Even if such a thing existed, a legitimized bastard does not necessarily stand above an uncle." Renly scoffed.
"Did you see the battlefield with your own eyes?" the Knight of Flowers questioned. "How could that be possible? Even The Mountain does not have such stamina."
"Battle results do not lie. The soldiers of Riverrun and Seagard can bear witness. Lord Gendry and my son Robb are facing powerful enemies, my lord. This is not a tourney game." Catelyn glanced at the Knight of Flowers. At that moment, although he was beautiful, he looked far too slender.
Renly laughed. "Relax. There is no need to bare blades at one another. Loras."
"My lord, war is nearly upon you. You must be ready," Catelyn said to him.
"My lady, you have come at the right time. My elder brother Stannis and I were just about to speak. As for you, my lady, I invite you into my tent. I will also arrange safe and comfortable lodgings for your attendants. Rest well. Later we will dine together, and you can still arrive in time for the peace talks."
Renly led the Knight of Flowers toward Storm's End, while the others brought Catelyn to the front of the king's vast and splendid tent.
"I once thought I would become a great king," Renly Baratheon said to Loras Tyrell.
"You will," Loras said.
"I am sorry I did not bring Highgarden's army," Loras apologized.
"It is all right, Loras. You are the one I trust most."
"I have always been imitating my brother, his way of dressing, his bearing. Everything except the battlefield. The battlefield is too filthy. You know I hate war and slovenly soldiers. I hate blood and wailing." Renly gave a bitter smile.
"It seems that however much I imitate Robert, I am not truly him in the end. I have always lived in his shadow. Did you see the eyes of those Stormlands lords? I could tell that after hearing the Stark woman's words, they have begun to waver. Once the Storm arrives, they will absolutely tie me up and hand me over to my nephew."
"I will protect you, Your Grace," Loras replied.
"I must act. I have to show the soldiers some reward. I can win too. I must move against Stannis. I need the fleet."
***
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