Her lemonade was sweet and the afternoon in Highgarden was warm enough for her to ignore whatever story her son was effusively telling.
Even still, no matter how delicious her food was or how nice the weather was, Olenna Tyrell couldn't get rid herself of a bad feeling she carried with her ever since her lovely granddaughter married the young stag.
She couldn't quite understand why. Renly was able to get the support of the Stormlands and convince the lukewarm reacher lords to his cause. Even after the Dornish surprise, he still had the largest army.
And yet.
She couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off.
First the Dornish, what had moved the timid Prince Martell to set an army threatening the Reach? It weakened Renly and helped the Lannister queen, and after the fate of Elia and her children…
Something was amiss, Olenna could feel it.
As for the—
"Isn't that right mother?" her son interrupted her line of thought.
"If you said it, then no. If Willas said it, then maybe."
Mace lips pressed into a thin line, ready to say something he'd regret.
So she saved him. "Bah, being old does not mean being patient enough to hear you boast, Willas, be a dear and tell me what the question was about."
Her grandson gave a polite nod to her oaf of a son, it made her roll her eyes. Her family knew her for the longest time, why were they acting surprised?
"Father was telling how the Northerners can't sustain their campaign much longer. Their lands do not yield enough for a prolonged war and Lord Tywin fed his army with the Riverlands harvest burning what he didn't take, so Robb Stark can't extend his campaign much longer."
Her son assessing and reasoning over the information they had? She would've been proud.
Well, time to test her grandson. "And what do you think?"
"Mmmhh," Willas sipped from his goblet of wine. "The North has their whole infantry armored with good steel and armed with long pikes. I believe that's part of the reason why Robb Stark was able to win the Battle of the Green Fork."
And what a surprise that was. A boy younger than Loras shearing the great Tywin Lannister. Oh, what she would give to see the old lion's face when that happened.
"Given that," Willas continued. "The North must have a lot of coin. I believe, they found silver or gold mines in the last twenty years. Not even the Lannisters can field twenty thousand armored men."
"Bah," Mace interrupted, raising a hand in protest. "Our men in King's Landing have seen the North's taxes, they steadily increased under Lord Eddard Stark, true,but those taxes aren't high enough for the amount of coin you are suggesting."
"There's a simple explanation for that," Olenna admonished. "Eddard Stark lied."
"Ned Stark, the most honorable man in Westeros, the man who is a brother in all but blood to King Robert, lied," Mace flatly said. "Mother, do you hear yourself?"
Had she been ten years younger, Olenna would've smacked her son for talking back in that tone. Sadly, she wasn't, so she settled for the next best thing.
"Shut up Mace. What's easier to believe? Lord Eddard Stark lying on his dues to the crown or the North growing steel plate in trees?"
"Grandmother is right, Father. Besides, Lord Eddard admitted to treason right before his execution."
"Ned treason? No, impossible." Mace straightened his back. "I've told this story before, son, but I met Lord Stark when he came to lift the siege to Storm's End. He's a good man and true. He may have been an enemy once, but I can attest to his character—"
"Bah, save your story for later Mace, preferably when I'm not near," Olenna said not to lose half an hour of her life to boasts and 'glory'. "So what? Are you telling me the Northerners grow plate armor in trees?"
Mace deflated on his chair. "No mother, but mayhaps the North found iron mines and hired blacksmiths to process its bounty. I heard they'd grown close to Braavos, their blacksmiths must come from there."
Olenna sighed. At times, her son reminded her of her husband, in his kindness and, in this case, in how much of an oaf they both were.
"Or Eddard Stark lied." Olenna turned to her grandson. "Please continue, Willas."
"As I was saying, Robb Stark must have the coin to sustain his campaign for longer. His brother took Maidenpool, from there he can buy grain from the Free Cities to supply the Stark army for as long as his coin lasts, which, I repeat, must be substantial."
"Hmm." Olenna nodded. She was glad her grandchildren were smarter than the father.
"Hhn." Mace crossed his arms.
"Something to say, Mace?"
"Nothing at all, mother. You won't hear anything I say anyways."
The Seven give their hardest battles to their strongest soldiers, indeed. Mother Above, give me patience.
She might have been too dismissive of Mace lately, yes, but he deserved it!
Olenna sighed, oaf or not, Mace was still her son. "Tell me Mace, what is Balon Greyjoy doing?"
The Lord of Highgarden gave her his best 'tread carefully' look, he must have been practicing it recently, she could almost believe it. She answered by patiently swirling her lemonade. She knew Mace. Of her son's strengths, waiting was not one of them.
"Oh, you have interesting news from Lordsport, right Father?"
As always her grandson, ever the diplomat, did his best to get them all back on topic. Out of respect for his efforts, she relented.
A soft sigh escaped Mace. "Aye. I just got a raven from Oldtown. Lord Balon has called his banners, no trade vessel has left Lordsport in weeks."
That was interesting. Lord Reaver joining the North to attack the Westerlands' coasts was not something she would've thought likely. Just as she wouldn't have thought likely for the Lannister queen to kill Eddard Stark.
She spotted the issue with the information. "If every ship that goes to Lordsport stays there, how do we know Balon has raised his banners?"
"There are ports other than Lordsport, mother," Mace said gleefully. "Baelor Hightower assured me his source is reliable."
Seeing Mace's pompous grin told her what she needed to know. "Of course I know the squids have other ports, you oaf! What I'm asking is, how do we know they're gathering in Lordsport if Balon is stopping every vessel from leaving?"
Her son tilted his head and slowly said: "Because only vessels in Lordsport are kept there. The other ports don't have the restriction."
"What!?" she sputtered. "He's restricting ships from leaving Lordsport, presumably to keep his raising of banners a secret, but then, he's not enforcing the same restrictions in other ports, not even the closest ones? Is Balon Greyjoy a Seven damned lackwit?"
The silence that followed stretched a little too long. Her son and grandson, were having a conversation with their eyes and looking at her from time to time.
Right, Balon had that little Rebellion of his about a decade ago.
Olenna felt her ears burn. It must've been the hour and the lemonade she was drinking. Her mind was a little sluggish in the afternoons. That must have been it.
She harrumphed into her hand. "Right, so Balon is gathering his forces in Lordsport…"
"He is," her brilliant grandson said. "I'm writing to Lord Paxter and Lord Baelor, they are to extend their patrols north of the Shield Islands."
"Hhhmm, I believe we should send a thousand men to the Islands," Mace said.
It wasn't a good idea, Olenna was about to speak but Willas was first.
"Let's not be hasty, Father. Sending our men without imminent threat can be mistaken for lack of confidence in our vassals, and an imposed burden on their granaries besides."
Mace seemed content to hear that and let the matter drop.
"As for Robb Stark's campaign," Willas continued. "The Riverlands are whole once again. The only threat they have now, is Lord Jaime's army to the West."
Olenna could admit she didn't have a mind for strategy or tactics, and even then, the Kingslayer attacking the Riverlands seemed a losing endeavour to her.
"No, Lord Jaime wouldn't throw his army away," Mace said.
"I was of the same mind." Willas drew a map across the table, moving the plates and pitcher away. "Lord Jaimie should be somewhere around here," he said pointing to Sarsfield. "Our last reports say he's training a new host and scrounging up all the warhorses he can find."
Mace leaned over. "Are you sure?"
"Aye, farmhands are even trying to sell their own plow horses, Lord Jaime is paying very well for each horse."
Mace settled on his chair. "Huh, so he is going to attack."
Olenna didn't understand. The Kingslayer buying warhorses sounded normal to her, the Westerlands had lost many a knight battling the North, and with them their horses. It was normal to replenish one's losses was it not?
"I think, he was going to attack," Willas said. "If I were him, I would've attacked the moment Lord Tully left for Harrenhal, but Lord Jaime didn't move."
Olenna picked up the lemonade pitcher and poured herself some more. She was lost on why the Kingslayer would've attacked. She could ask for clarifications, however, even Mace understood Willas without further explanation. So she settled for sipping on her lemonade.
"I don't understand," Mace said. "If it were so, why didn't he attack?"
Hah! Now this was a more familiar scenario, Mace not understanding something simple was an everyday occurrence.
"Lord Tywin stopped him. There can't be other explanation, massing warhorses is expensive. Sitting in place and doing nothing with them? I'm certain Lord Tywin stopped his heir from attacking."
"Aye, that's within reason," Mace said pouring himself some wine. "But then, there's the issue of what is Lord Tywin doing in King's Landing, his grandson sits on the Iron Throne. How does he intend to defend the city without an army?"
Willas leaned over. "I believe he's leaving King's Landing for the taking, Father. He knows he cant hold the city, not against King Renly's army. I'm certain we'll hear of our king receiving terms for Tywin's surrender soon enough. We could ask for Lord Eddard's daughters and with them in our hands, negotiate a generous peace deal with the Starks. Mayhaps just keeping their new mines untaxed could be enough."
"Tywin would have to send both of his grandsons to the Wall," Olenna said. "I don't see Renly accepting anything less. As for the Starks—"
Her grandson's raised hand interrupted her. "Grandmother, please refer to His Grace properly, King Ren—"
"If the whelp gets so easily offended, then he is not a man worth following."
Willas sighed and leaned back on his chair. "Please grandmother, just… try."
"Shut up, Willas. I'm no fool. I know when to call a whelp a whelp, and when to call him king."
Her grandson raised his arms in surrender. He understood, it seemed.
"As I was saying." Olenna gave her son and her grandson a warning look. "The Starks won't accept only that, the Stark whelp would be a fool if he did."
"Robb Stark is quite young," Willas said.
Olenna gave him a withering glare. "That young lord, broke Tywin and the Kingslayer one after the other. We don't want Robb Stark as our enemy."
Willas raised his hands in surrender. "Well then, what do you propose?"
"I say we make Tywin pay them reparations, generous reparations." Which would weaken the Lannisters and make the Starks think well of her house. "As for an alliance with the Starks, I was thinking a Sansa Stark, Lady of Highgarden could bring peace."
Willas didn't react. She was sure he had considered the option as well.
Mace hummed. "She'd be a good wife for you, Willas. Ned's girl could tamper some of your faults."
This time, she saw Willas confusion, she couldn't blame him, because she was confused too. What faults could the girl amend? Did Mace knew of the girl's character?
"Alas, Robb Stark won't accept those terms. I'm certain we'll have to negotiate the peace terms man to man, face to face. But don't worry about it, when the time comes, as Hand of the King, I'll handle those talks."
Her son looked utterly certain, even with his usual bravado, Olenna could tell Mace was sincere.
It confused her even more.
"What makes you believe that?" she asked.
"Oh. Well, he's Ned's boy," Mace said as if that was sufficient explanation on its own.
Mother Above, give me patience.
###
It was close to midday when my scouts made contact with Lord Edmure's army.
Cerati had seen them way before. It was kind of hard to act a little surprised when Ronel came back to camp with the news. Lord Tully and fifteen thousand men, just to send a message.
Hopefully, with our renewed forces would make Lord Rykker see reason, if not… well, since we didn't pillage and burn the lands, our supply lines were going strong.
Lord Tully was afoot, dressed in a red and blue tunic with a embroidered silver trout on his chest, a fine cloak covered him. Once he got closer, I saw he wasn't wearing much armor. Braces, shin guards and a breastplate was all the protection he wore. It would've struck me as odd if it wasn't for the cadence of his walking. Just as Dacey from a few weeks before, Lord Edmure had injured his ribs.
The moment his party was in range, the small ceremony of ceding command started. Similar to how one receives his liege lord, we all kneeled.
"This army is yours, my Lord Hand," I said.
"Raise." Lord Edmure pulled me to my feet. "We all heard of your prowess in battle and as a commander, Jon Stark. I'm honored to finally meet you."
Huh. That was a bit unexpected. His words sounded like those of a expert politician, only difference was that he sounded sincere.
"My lord, we heard of your Mountain slaying ourselves. Men cheered your name and maidens cried in relief."
"Hah! I'm sure those stories you heard were embellishments of the truth," Lord Edmure said while patting my shoulder. "I was but a few inches from dying myself. In fact, had it not been for Lord Dondarrion, I'd be death on the ground."
He pointed me to Lord Beric, a shorter knight in full plate, to his side there was a man with more pepper than salt on his beard, completely clad in red.
Lord Edmure turned toward Dacey. "Lady Maege Mormont is as brave warrior as any other, I'll be honored to fight by her heir's side." He turned to Perwyn. "And Ser Perwyn the Swift, the Blackfish holds you and your brothers in high regard."
My brother's newly appointed Hand wasn't what I was expecting. The riverlord went on and on complimenting each and every single noble in the camp. Lords Blackmyre and Greengood were gleaming and puffing their chests.
It was only a few minutes for the camp to be under his spell. Hell, even I had a good impression of the man, after meeting him, I knew Robb made the right choice to name him Hand.
I waited for the introductions to be done before asking for a private talk to fill him in on Arya's whereabouts.
"So that's the reason for this negotiation tactic." Lord Edmure said. "Cat will be beyond herself when she sees her."
He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. I kept the silence to let him think, the new information must've been shocking.
I drank from my waterskin, the weather in the Crownlands had me sweating like a pig. A couple of degrees more and it would feel like I was melting inside a steel furnace.
"I think, our king's envoy needs another set of instructions," Lord Edmure said "Is Ser Cleos still in camp?"
"He is, my lord. Should I send for him?"
"No, there's no need, I'll just write new terms for the exchange of prisoners. Robb signed the terms before knowing of Lady Arya, I'll change it for something Tywin will be hard pressed to deny."
The Hand of the King walked to the table in the tent and picked up parchment and ink.
My brother naming him Hand was a bit surprising, I had expected the position would be for Rickard Karskark or Wyman Manderly. Before Harrenhal Lord Edmure didn't have the gravitas to hold the position, many Northerners would've protested the appointment, no matter how competent he was. Now however, no one would call the Mountain Slayer unfit for the position.
It seemed Robb expected his uncle to get the sway needed to be beyond question after storming Harrenhal. Well, I'm not complaining. Lord Edmure seemed like the kind of man who can make friends out of enemies.
"Robb thought to exchange Tyrion for Sansa and Arya," Lord Edmure said while heating wax for his seal. "It was reasonable at the time, a male heir for two young ladies, anyone would've said 'please and thank you', it left some in our side bitter. But now, after questioning Tywin's lapdogs holding Harrenhal, we know he doesn't care for his dwarf of a son. So, we'll attack there, the new offer is to exchange Ser Kevan for Lady Sansa and his heir for Lady Arya, if the gods are kind, he'll receive Cleos in public."
It was a generous offer, I could picture many nobles on our side complaining for how generous it was. Which is why, Lord Edmure signing it, made him a good man in my eyes. If it fails, he'll take the political blow, if it succeeds, the credit will go to my brother.
He finished sealing the letter and locked his eyes with mine.
"Well then, Jon" Lord Edmure said. "When are you going to tell me of your little journey to King's Landing?"
My face must've showed my surprise, because the Hand chuckled when he saw me.
"I doubt anyone else knows," he continued. "But, I too have sisters, and I'd like to think I know how men think of their sisters."
What? Just like that? He has sisters? This guy is a fucking psychic.
"Also," he said. "I may have shared a drink or two with a nephew of mine. Besides, with Renly and Stannis marching to King's Landing, the Lannisters won't hold the Throne for long. We don't have the time for a normal hostage exchange, and with how they dealt with their previous prisoners…"
I let out a sigh, that was better than just someone randomly guessing I planned to get to King's Landing.
I composed myself and ordered my thoughts. "Ser Perwyn is helping with the smuggling part, and Lady Dacey Mormont is joining us, just in case we need a… 'womanly touch'."
I explained the plan in detail, Lord Edmure helped with better accommodations. Once in King's Landing, we would go to his friend's place.
###
In the end we prepared to leave the camp with little fanfare. We were just part of Ser Cleos escort, at least until Rosby.
The fake siege to Duskendale… would Lord Rykker had accepted if I had contacted him? I doubt it, I'm sure the man disliked the Lannisters, and in other circumstances, he would've been happy to sit this war out while having the valid excuse of being under siege. The issue was that Lord Rykker didn't like the Starks either.
The plan evolved slowly throughout the Riverlands campaign. I first made the plan as a joke after shattering Tywin's army, but then, after hearing of Father's passing… there was this nagging voice in my head demanding I do something.
Once I made progress breaking into Amory's mind, the inklings of an idea started to form. Get into the capital, kidnap some high ranking officer of the gold cloaks and read his mind to find where my sisters where, and how to get there, rinse and repeat until success.
Admittedly, it was a reckless way of doing things, how many gold cloaks would I need to kidnap? Would any of them have any info? And, perhaps more important, how to get into the city with my trusty magical focus?
I had to adjust. First, practice my skinchanging into small animals, that way I could gather information Bloodraven style, rather than kidnapping half a hundred men.
Then there was the issue of finding a way into the Red Keep. At first I thought to use disguise as a servant or a gold cloak, but then, Arya appeared in Maidenpool. She told me of the tunnels, Maegor the Cruel built them to have secret escape routes, thankfully they go both ways and, according to Arya, very few people know of them.
In short: Skinchange into rodents and pigeons, scout through the Red Keep, find Sansa's whereabouts, map the nooks and crannies of the tunnels, and rescue her.
Simple, no risk of kidnappings going wrong, no need to contaminate my sense of self by reading multiple minds.
The only issue I had, was that I couldn't think of a way to get inside King's Landing with my very conspicuous halberd in hand. And without my halberd acting as focus, my skinchanging wouldn't be at full potential.
Creating countermeasures for that particular problem was why I was a sleepless wreck these past days. Back at Maidenpool, I got myself rats and mouses and pigeons to 'open the door' with my halberd in hand. Once I skinchanged into them once, the next tries went smoother. These little guys were going to be my spies in the capital,
I picked up my six rodents' cage and tied it on my back. Perwyn did the same with the pigeon cage, I only had two of them, they were very disorienting to skinchange into.
Then I 'pulled' on Cerati and Ghost strings to tell them to follow.
"Ready to leave, Jon?" Perwyn asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
The sound of boots hitting the ground made me turn.
"I swear to you Jon," Dacey said, looking irritated. "If that bloody craven dares to order me, I'll pound you to the ground."
Misplaced anger? Well, we didn't have any sigils marking us as nobles (except for Perwyn), so in a roundabout way, she was correct. Kind of.
"Such violence! Such terror!" Perwyn dramatically said. It seems his time with mummers made him worse.
"Ser Cleos believes we are messengers bound for Rosby," I said before Dacey applied violence and terror on Perwyn. "And in turn the knight is a simple envoy himself, he wouldn't—."
"That didn't stop the fool from trying to bed one of my shieldmaidens," Dacey cut. "He got a bloody nose for his troubles."
Huh, so that was what Lord Edmure had to deal with yesterday.
"Seems to me, he learned his lesson then," I said while mounting my horse, the movement made the cage in my back squeak in terror.
"Don't worry, my lady," Perwyn said, already ahorse. "Ser Cleos wouldn't dare ask something so crass of someone stronger and taller than him."
"That didn't stop him with Arra," Dacey said petting her mount.
""Arra?"" Perwyn and I said in unison. That woman gave the impression that she could bend steel with her bare hands.
"She told me the fool approached her when she was sitting by a campfire," Dacey said, guiding her horse forward.
I could see it. Arra had a delicate and beautiful face, if she was unarmored and sitting, she'd pass for a delicate and gentle lady.
"I still have that special spicy pepper with me," I said, following Dacey and Perwyn from behind. "Want to see how much a knight can eat before crying?"
"Hah! Aye, I'd like to see," she said while Perwyn chuckled.
Starting a somewhat reckless and potentially mortal journey to rescue a princess with jokes seemed part of the course. Now we just needed someone to rant about onions.
###
A/N: Ngl, I have plot points for this arc, but connecting the points is giving me a headache lmao, so we have something from Olenna, because I felt there was a need for a breather.
Also, the white raven announcing the end of summer isn't here just yet. I want a little bit more time, because I feel it serves the story better. (And I think Martin kept the timeline way too short.)
You can give me tips: p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / yorud, only if you want and can.
Anyways, give me your comments! ψ(｀∇ ´)ψ