บท 269: Chapter 270: The March
With the main force of the southern Reach army now gathered at the Cider Hall, the castle had transformed into a massive military encampment.
A chilling, oppressive atmosphere hung over the castle, teetering on the brink of something larger, but lacking the final push to coalesce into action.
Inside the great hall, a military council was underway.
Lady Olenna Tyrell sat at the high seat of House Fossoway. Her expression was weary, her gaze fixed on the floor, lost in thought.
On her left sat Randyll Tarly, stoic as ever. On her right was Mathis Rowan, who made no attempt to conceal his anger and hatred.
Samwell stood beside his father, his gaze sweeping over the Reach lords below, who were engaged in a heated argument. Yet his eyes seemed unfocused, his mind elsewhere.
"We must not compromise with the rebels!" bellowed Reynard Webber, Lord of Coldmoat, his voice filled with fury. "If betrayal goes unpunished, who will keep their oaths in the future? Who will fight for Highgarden? Who will respect House Tyrell?"
"But if we don't negotiate, do we plan to storm Highgarden?" asked Guncer Green anxiously.
"I think we should storm Highgarden—and Old Oak as well!" declared Eustace Osgrey loudly. "The traitorous Oakhearts must all be wiped out! That is the only way to deal with treason!"
"If you're so eager to kill, perhaps you should start with the Cider Hall and Longtable," Guncer Green retorted sarcastically. "The Fossoways and Merryweathers were both involved in this rebellion. Why don't you lead an army to slaughter them first?"
"The Merryweathers have already sworn their renewed loyalty," interjected Lady Taema Merryweather hastily. Her gaze darted toward Samwell for reassurance.
Samwell gave her a calm nod.
Encouraged, Lady Taena straightened and added, "I support storming Highgarden. Only by showing the rebels our determination will they agree to negotiate in good faith."
"Storm Highgarden?" Guncer Green snapped back. "What about Lord Mace Tyrell and the other Tyrells inside? The rebels have already sent us Alanna Tyrell's head. Who will it be next?"
But his protests only invited further objections:
"The rebels wouldn't dare kill Lord Mace or his sons. If they harm the main Tyrell line, this feud will become irreconcilable!"
"That's right! If we compromise this time, who's to say others won't follow suit? House Tyrell's authority will be shattered!"
"Yes, we must respond with strength!"
The Reach lords, dominated by loyalists to House Tyrell, grew increasingly emboldened. The stag-aligned faction had either joined the rebellion or were keeping silent, making the hall's overall sentiment unsurprising.
Amidst the rising fervor, Lord Mathis Rowan finally spoke.
"Lady Olenna, what do you think we should do?"
His words shifted the focus squarely onto Olenna, forcing her to respond. A simple tactic, but an effective one.
Olenna Tyrell's sharp eyes rested on Mathis for a long moment before sweeping slowly across the hall. At last, she spoke.
"As a mother and grandmother, my only wish is for my son and grandsons to return safely. So, talk of storming Highgarden must stop. If we corner the rebels, they may act in desperation. None of you want the blame for driving them to such measures, do you?"
"Lady Olenna," Randyll Tarly interjected. "You're right that we shouldn't attack Highgarden hastily. But we must still present a firm stance, or the rebels won't take us seriously. I suggest we besiege Highgarden and then send envoys to negotiate with the rebels."
The proposal to lay siege was less aggressive, and Olenna's expression softened slightly as she nodded.
"Very well. But remember—do not provoke the rebels unnecessarily."
Randyll exchanged a glance with Samwell. Both father and son were clearly disappointed by Olenna's overly cautious attitude.
Mathis Rowan suddenly spoke up.
"Lady Olenna, where is Paxter Redwyne? The ironborn are running rampant on the Mander River, yet there's no sign of the Redwyne fleet."
"Perhaps he hasn't returned from the Stormlands yet..." Olenna's tone was unconvincing.
It was clear she suspected, as did others, that her nephew Paxter might be complicit in the rebellion.
"We saw no sign of the Redwyne fleet near the Stormlands," Mathis Rowan said with a scoff. "And I doubt Paxter would take every ship from the Arbor."
"I'll write to the Arbor personally and demand House Redwyne mobilize their fleet," Olenna said curtly.
Satisfied, Mathis fell silent. His objective—to cast doubt on the Redwynes—had been achieved, and there was no need to push further and embarrass Olenna.
The rebellion had become a battle for influence between The Horse and Stag factions, and Mathis was seizing every opportunity to weaken his rivals.
"Very well, make your preparations," Olenna declared, signaling the end of the discussion. "This campaign will be led by Loras Tyrell. Mathis, Randyll, you will assist him."
"Has Ser Loras ever commanded a campaign of this scale?" Mathis Rowan questioned.
Olenna's expression darkened, but before she could respond, Randyll said,
"I agree that Ser Loras may not be suitable. He's still young and inexperienced, and with his family in the castle, he may hesitate at critical moments. We should choose someone else."
Olenna's face visibly soured. She turned to her grandson.
"Loras, what do you think?"
"I..." Loras Tyrell stood among the gathered lords, visibly struggling.
He wanted nothing more than to see the rebels annihilated, but the thought of his family inside Highgarden paralyzed him. If the rebels sent another head—Garlan's, Willas's, or even his father's—how would he respond? Attack or retreat?
The dilemma was too great to face.
"Lord Randyll is right. I may not be suitable," he admitted hesitantly, his voice heavy with defeat.
Olenna glared at Loras with undisguised disappointment before addressing the room.
"Do any of you have other suggestions?"
"I believe Lord Randyll is the best choice," Mathis Rowan said immediately.
"I agree. Lord Randyll is one of the finest commanders in the Reach."
"Yes, he's the ideal candidate."
Voices echoed in agreement across the hall.
Samwell stepped forward and said,
"Lady Olenna, rest assured. My father will reclaim Highgarden for House Tyrell."
Olenna fixed her gaze on him and asked coldly,
"And my son and grandsons?"
"We will ensure their safety as well," Samwell vowed solemnly.
After staring at him for a long moment, Olenna finally nodded.
"Remember your promise."
---
With the meeting concluded, Randyll Tarly began organizing the army for the march to Highgarden. Samwell made his way to the sept.
Inside, Alanna Tyrell's coffin was placed before the Stranger's statue. Silent Sisters worked quietly to prepare her remains.
The rebels had only returned her head, so the sisters had fashioned a makeshift body from silken garments to give the illusion of wholeness. Alayne now appeared as the beautiful and delicate young woman she had been in life.
Margaery knelt before the statue of the Mother, her hands clasped in prayer.
Samwell stood silently behind her, waiting until she finished.
When Margaery finally rose and turned, her face was pale.
"The meeting is over?"
"Yes," Samwell said. "We'll besiege Highgarden and negotiate with the rebels."
"Will that work?" Margaery asked bitterly. "The rebels want your head. If we don't give them that, they won't release anyone."
"I'll find a way," Samwell said, pulling her into his arms. She felt fragile, like a flower petal that might crumble at the slightest touch. "Trust me."
"I do," she whispered.
They embraced in silence for a long moment.
Finally, Samwell pulled back.
"I have to go."
Margaery clung to him briefly before letting go.
"You must return safely!" she said firmly. Taking his hand, she placed it on her slightly rounded belly. "Both of us will be waiting for you."
Samwell thought he could feel a faint heartbeat, though it might have been his imagination.
"I will," he promised, forcing a smile. "When have I ever let you down?"
Margaery nodded and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Her lips were cool, tasting faintly of tears.
Summoning all his willpower, Samwell turned and walked away.
As his figure disappeared through the door, Margaery could no longer hold back her tears.
She thought of the old woman she had met at Bitterbridge and her cryptic prophecy:
"The rose will fall from its branch, drowned in sorrow and tears..."
Now, the meaning seemed all too clear.
"Mother, have mercy," she prayed silently. Let my grief end here.
Turning around, Margaery approached her cousin's coffin.
The silent sisters were scattering rose petals inside, the scattered crimson petals covering Alanna's body, making her pale face seem less terrifying.
At this moment, her gentle and shy cousin seemed to be right in front of her.
Memories of the past surged towards her like a tidal wave, almost making her lose her footing.
Outside the city, the sound of a resounding military horn echoed, accompanied by shouts of "For Highgarden," which were incredibly uplifting.
But Margaery couldn't feel any happiness.
She knew how tricky this rebellion was; even though Samwell had made assurances, she still couldn't shake off her inner worries.
For a moment, she suddenly regretted it all.
Not regretting choosing Samwell, but regretting why she had brought him to Highgarden in the first place.
If they had fled Westeros to the other side of the Narrow Sea, to a place where no one knew them, would they have been spared from these power struggles?
Perhaps this was the gods' punishment for her ambition.
Margaery suddenly didn't want to be queen anymore.
The voices outside the city gradually faded, and the army had set off.
If Alanna were still alive, she would definitely run and climbt to the city wall to watch.
In the past, every time there was a great army expedition at the Reach, she always liked to hold a bouquet of roses, hesitating about who to give it to.
But she was too shy and never had the courage to give it away.
"Give her a bouquet of roses," Margaery said.
The Silent Sisters silently nodded, went to find a bouquet of roses, and placed it in Alanna's "hand."
Margaery's vision blurred again, and she choked out:
"This looks much better, right?"
The Silent Sisters did not answer.
They were messengers of death, wives of strangers, never speaking with the living.
But it was said they could communicate with the dead.
Margaery suddenly felt very jealous.
(End of Chapter)
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