Chương 228: Chapter 229: Display
The vast Reach army set off eastward from Highgarden, eventually splitting into two forces upon reaching Cider Hall. The southern force, commanded by Lord Mathis Rowan, would march southeast along the Cockleswent River, crossing into the Dornish Marches and then advancing toward Storm's End through the Boneway.
The northern force, led by Lord Randyll Tarly, would follow the course of the Mander northeast, passing through Felwood and Bronze gate before striking at the heart of the Stormlands: Storm's End.
It was clear from the outset that the northern force was the primary offensive. In fact, the division of manpower reflected this strategy: twenty-five thousand soldiers marched under Lord Tarly's command in the north, while only fifteen thousand made up the southern force.
Naturally, Samwell accompanied Lord Tarly, serving with the northern force and using the opportunity to study large-scale military maneuvers. After over two weeks of marching, the northern Reach army reached Grassy Vale. This was the easternmost edge of the Reach; beyond it lay the Kingswood.
The Kingswood, a royal hunting preserve, was a dense forest with no settlements or fortifications, inhabited only by hunters and the notorious Kingswood Brotherhood bandits. Passing through it would bring them directly into the Stormlands.
Historically, the Reach's invasions of the Stormlands—and vice versa—were practically routine. Centuries ago, King Arlan of the Stormlands had even pushed his borders as far as the source of the Mander, near Highgarden itself. In return, during the rule of King Garth III Gardener, the Reach had managed to conquer all the land north of the Felwood, save for Storm's End itself.
For over a thousand years, the two regions fought back and forth, their borders ever-shifting, until Aegon the Conqueror united Westeros under one rule. But even that unity could not fully dissolve centuries of animosity. During Robert's Rebellion, Lord Mace Tyrell himself had refused to march to King's Landing's aid, choosing instead to besiege Storm's End for a year, probably because he wanted to achieve something that the past rulers of the Reach had never achieved in history.
That is to Capture Storm's End.
That siege had, perhaps, been as much about settling an old score as about loyalty to the king.
Now, the Reach's armies were back, with an opportunity to accomplish what no lord of the Reach ever had before—taking Storm's End.
Outside Grassy Vale, by the banks of the Blueburn, Lord Tarly followed his son into a secluded grove atop a small hill.
"What is it you want to show me?" Randyll Tarly asked, his tone betraying a hint of impatience.
Samwell grinned, his excitement apparent. "A magic powerful enough to breach the walls of Storm's End."
Lord Tarly's brow furrowed at the word "magic." As a practical man, he had little trust in sorcery or supernatural forces. But recalling that his son had somehow hatched a dragon, he kept his skepticism to himself.
"Are you ready?" Samwell asked Maester Qyburn.
"Indeed, my lord. We can begin whenever you wish," Qyburn replied, signaling to one of his apprentices, who promptly dashed off, torch in hand, toward a nearby hill.
Randyll watched the apprentice's retreating form with mild confusion. He had assumed that this "magic" would involve the red-robed woman, the priestess who now traveled with Samwell's entourage. Randyll had heard the rumors of this Red Priestess but had refrained from interference out of respect for his son's autonomy. He'd assumed Samwell's "display of magic" would be her doing, but it appeared he'd been wrong.
Or perhaps, he thought, Samwell had some alchemical trick up his sleeve, akin to wildfire.
He waited as the apprentice set fire to something on the hilltop and ran back. For a few moments, nothing happened, and Lord Tarly's confusion grew. But just as he was about to speak, the hillside erupted in a deafening blast. The explosion roared across the fields like thunder, rattling the ground beneath their feet and startling the horses tied nearby.
For a moment, even Randyll Tarly was struck speechless, though he soon recovered.
Samwell, however, looked less impressed than he'd expected. Though the display had been far more powerful than the earlier "fireworks" Qyburn had shown, it still fell short of the game-changing weapon he had hoped for. The limitations of black powder were apparent.
Samwell couldn't help but regret not having memorized the formula for TNT back on Earth…
Nonetheless, the explosive power should at least suffice for breaching smaller fortifications.
"Impressive enough," Lord Tarly said, clearly pleased.
"Will it be enough to bring down the walls of Storm's End?" Samwell asked, his tone betraying some doubt.
"Unlikely. But it should work against smaller keeps," his father replied bluntly.
Disappointed, Samwell was about to press for a test on Storm's End anyway when Melisandre's voice cut in firmly:
"It would be futile."
Samwell hadn't originally intended to bring Melisandre with the army; the Reach soldiers were Seven-worshippers, and the presence of a priestess of R'hllor was bound to cause unrest. But Melisandre had followed Qyburn's party unbidden, claiming that Samwell would need her assistance.
Reluctantly, he'd agreed to her accompanying them, under the condition that she refrain from discussing the Lord of Light or engaging in religious rites that might alarm the men.
"The amount of powder could be increased," Qyburn suggested. "Or perhaps we could dig a tunnel beneath the walls and set off the explosion to weaken the foundation."
Melisandre, however, shook her head.
Storm's End was built by the first Storm King Durran. Who won the love of Elenei, the daughter of the God of the Sea and the Goddess of the Wind. But Elenei's parents couldn't accept that their daughter would give her chastity to a mortal man, and they more so could not accept that their daughter would suffer like any mortal woman from birth, aging, sickness and death like mortals from now on, so they summoned strong winds and huge waves to destroy the castle of Storm King Durran.
But Durran did not give up and built another castle on the ruins of the previous castle, but when the howling wind and huge waves roared out from the bay, the castle was shattered once again.
The people of Stormland advised him to return his wife to the gods or move the castle inland, away from the sea, but the Storm King ignored them all. He rebuilt the castle five times, each time taller and stronger than the last. But unfortunately, under the wrath of the gods, mortal castles were always vulnerable.
Finally, the Storm King built a seventh castle with the help of Brandon the Builder and the Children of the Forest. This time, they wove powerful magic into the huge stones of the city walls.
When the angry god once again poured storm and fury on the castle, they could no longer shake it in the slightest.
"You cannot breach Storm's End's walls that way. The first Storm King, Durran, built that castle with the help of the Children of the Forest and Bran the Builder. It was crafted from stone and woven with magic, to withstand even the fury of the gods themselves."
She looked intently at Samwell, her gaze mysterious. "This is a castle that not even divine wrath could shatter. Do you truly think mortal power will do so?"
Samwell fell silent, sensing an unspoken message in her words. Storm's End, as history told, had never fallen. Yet in the original story, Stannis Baratheon had taken the castle without a siege, using Melisandre's powers to create a shadow assassin that killed Ser Cortnay Penrose, forcing the defenders to surrender.
Was that why she had come? Samwell couldn't help but wonder if Melisandre hoped to try a similar "solution" here.
"The assault on Storm's End can wait," Lord Tarly interjected. "One step at a time. First we take Fellwood, then Bronze gate, then Haystack Hall, Harvest Hall, Stonehelm… Once we've captured all the other strongholds in the Stormlands, we can return our focus to Storm's End."
"You're right." Samwell nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "No matter how impregnable Storm's End might be, it can't hold out forever. And even if that bastard lord intends to wait us out, once we control all the fertile lands and forests of the Stormlands, one isolated castle will mean little."
Just then, a loud splash and the sharp cry of an animal caught his attention. Samwell turned toward the Blueburn River and saw Cleopatra emerge from the water with a massive fish, at least four feet long, gripped triumphantly in her claws.
Thud! She dropped the fish at Samwell's feet, as though presenting him with a gift.
Samwell chuckled and waved to her in thanks, while Cleopatra let out a screech, circled a few times, and then flew back toward the river to resume her hunting.
"Quite the size she's grown to, my lord!" Qyburn said in awe, unable to hide his excitement.
"Yes, she grows fast," Samwell replied, grinning.
Lord Tarly watched the white dragon thoughtfully, then turned to Samwell. "Can you ride her yet?"
"I haven't tried, but perhaps it's time." Samwell looked up at Cleopatra, gauging her current length, now a good six or seven feet. Maybe she was finally large enough to bear a rider.
When they returned to camp, they were greeted by Margaery's radiant smile.
Samwell had no intention of taking his betrothed to the front lines; he had no desire to share the fate of Renly Baratheon. Margaery was simply here to see him off. Grassy Vale would be her last stop before she returned to Highgarden to tour the various keeps of the Reach.
Samwell knew that his betrothed idolized Queen Alysanne, the famed Targaryen queen who had traveled the kingdom, holding "women's courts" to hear grievances and provide aid. Queen Alysanne had been beloved by women across Westeros for her kindness and advocacy.
Margaery intended to emulate her, and Samwell wholeheartedly supported the idea. After all, the beloved Queen Alysanne had not only been wise, but also extraordinarily fertile, bearing King Jaehaerys thirteen children…
That night, Samwell showed his encouragement for Margaery's plans in a more "practical" way.
After resting at Grassy Vale for a day, the army resumed its march eastward. Following the Blueburn River, they soon caught sight of a vast expanse of lush, dense forest.
The Kingswood lay before them.
(End of Chapter)
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