Check out advanced chapters on : patreon.com/Veni_V
---------------
The horses' hooves moved swiftly as they traveled through the royal forest.
They rode sturdy mountain ponies, more than a hundred of them, moving like ghosts through the dense foliage, hidden within the shadows of the trees.
Suddenly, movement flickered ahead—a small group of cavalry, three or five men, approaching.
Their leader wore dark green leather armor, a half-helmet on his head, and a gray cloak draped over his shoulders. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, sensing something amiss. Just as he was about to call out, the sharp whistle of an arrow slicing through the air reached his ears.
His voice caught in his throat—because the arrow had already pierced it.
Ghosts lurked in the forest, and shadows emerged from all directions. Within moments, the riders were surrounded.
The leader died so suddenly that his companions had no time to react, their shock frozen on their faces.
A man stepped from the trees, clad in black leather armor, with the glint of chainmail visible beneath. His silver hair caught the dim light, standing out against the darkened woods. The horse beneath him moved at an easy pace as he held his bow casually, the weapon still warm from his deadly shot.
Understanding their fate, the remaining scouts swiftly surrendered.
Soon, they were bound and brought before the silver-haired knight. He questioned them briefly, then ordered hoods placed over their heads and had them tied to a tree before leading his men deeper into the forest.
"My lord, there's a camp ahead," a scout reported upon returning.
Cole nodded. From high above, the white dragon had already shown him the layout. The scouts were merely a precaution.
This was one of Renly's camps—his men had been cutting trees and building siege equipment. Large swaths of forest had been cleared, the destruction nearly as severe as the fires Cole himself had set.
Storm's End had stood for centuries, its walls reinforced through generations. Attacking it without proper siege equipment was no easy task. Renly, having grown up within those very walls, knew this well.
His forces had constructed weapons for an assault on King's Landing at Bitterbridge, but Cole had burned them to ash. Now, they were forced to rebuild from scratch.
But before turning their sights on King's Landing, they had to capture Storm's End first.
Cole couldn't fathom why the Baratheon brothers were tearing each other apart. Did they hope to settle their internal conflict before facing greater threats?
Lady Stark had been right—they were brothers. They shouldn't be doing this. But power was intoxicating, and once grasped, few were willing to let it go.
Some men could achieve more by relinquishing power, yet they would rather see it rot in their hands than surrender it. Selfishness ruled them all.
From the sky, the white dragon observed the enemy's defenses. The camp was weakly guarded—only twenty or so cavalrymen, the rest mere infantry. Due to supply constraints, their fortifications were minimal: a single watchtower and low wooden fences.
In total, about a thousand people occupied the camp, most of them servants—tenants and serfs brought by noble lords from surrounding lands.
The lords had no interest in arming these common folk; they were not meant for battle. They were simply there to fill gaps when manpower ran thin, much like Cole's own conscripted serfs.
Slaughtering them wouldn't cripple Renly's army, but it would slow his advance.
Cole raised his hand, and the order was given. The cavalry charged.
Shouts of alarm erupted within the camp, but by then, the cavalry had already breached the flimsy defenses. They cut straight toward the garrison's cavalry.
A knight, charged with defending the camp, commanded over two hundred men. But before he could rally them, chaos had already erupted.
Steel clashed, and his forces scattered under the assault.
In the midst of the battle, his armor gleamed, marking him as a high-ranking knight.
Cole pulled the reins tight and rushed toward him. The man was the only one in plate armor—his identity was clear.
The twin swords in Cole's hands flashed forward. The knight raised his shield just in time to block the first strike.
Cole's blade flowed like water, slashing downward. The sudden impact sent the horses into disarray. The knight, startled, gripped his reins tightly and clenched his legs around his mount's sides, trying to steady himself—unaware that in doing so, he had left an opening.
Cole rode back and, with a swift stroke of his sword, took the knight's head.
The moment their leader fell, the enemy's morale crumbled. The remaining soldiers scattered in all directions, fleeing in panic.
Cole and his men ignored the fleeing soldiers. Instead, they set fire to all the supplies in the camp before vanishing once more into the depths of the royal forest.
The scouts had been slain. The outer camp was attacked. The supply caravan was looted.
It didn't take long for Renly and his lords to realize that a pack of wild wolves had emerged behind their lines.
Five logging sites were burned. Dozens of scouts had gone missing.
Ser Bryce Caron, the Rainbow Guard knight clad in an orange cloak, stood before Renly and reported the grim losses.
"Your Grace, as we suspected, it was the same cavalry that attacked Lord Tyrell. Their leader appears to be Cole Julius."
In a cage nearby, Baron had already confessed most of what he knew. However, he still held back certain details, intending to use them as bargaining chips should he need to negotiate for his life. Unfortunately for him, his own men had been more eager to surrender than he was.
Before Highgarden's forces had even begun their assault, traitors within the city had already thrown open the gates.
Now, a knight passed by—someone Baron recognized. It seemed that all those banquets and tournaments he had attended hadn't been in vain. At the very least, he had become familiar with many influential figures. Whether they remembered him, however, was another matter entirely.
The man was Ser Bryce Caron, Lord of Nightsong—a knight well-regarded across the Seven Kingdoms. He now served as one of King Renly's Rainbow Guard.
The Rainbow Guard was Renly's answer to the Kingsguard, composed of seven knights, each representing a color of the rainbow.
"Baron requests an audience with Your Grace," Ser Bryce said to Renly. "He claims to have important news."
"Baron?" Renly raised a brow. "Bring him in."
Not long ago, House Tyrell had nearly executed Baron as the chief instigator of the recent fires.
As soon as he was brought before Renly, Baron dropped to his knees and crawled forward. The Rainbow Guard instinctively stepped in to stop him, but Renly held up a hand, signaling for them to stand down.
Baron crawled all the way to Renly's feet and pressed his lips to the king's boots.
"Your Grace, my noble king," he said, his voice thick with desperation. "Elwood Baron of Green Valley humbly greets you."
Renly smirked, finding the display amusing. He made no move to let the man rise. Instead, he asked, "I hear you have news for me?"
"Yes, Your Grace! I know the whereabouts of Cole Julius and his men." Baron's voice trembled slightly, but his words came quickly. "Before your army arrived in Green Valley, they tried to enter my castle—but I refused them entry. I swear my loyalty to you, my king! I served as Lord Cortnay Penrose's deputy and defended Storm's End in your name."
Before Renly could respond, a sharp voice cut in.
"You dare call yourself a knight, Elwood Baron?" Ser Guyard Morrigen, the Rainbow Guard knight clad in green, scoffed. "You betrayed your king. You are unworthy of that title."
"Let him speak," Renly said calmly.
Ser Guyard shot Baron a look of disgust but stepped aside.
Baron cursed inwardly, but his face remained full of forced humility.
"Your Grace, they never expected that I had men following them," he continued. "I know where they are. They're hiding in the Dornish Mountains."
Ser Loras Tyrell, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes.
"I see," he said with a nod. "No wonder our scouts couldn't find their base."