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The Capture of Brienne
Cole's cloak billowed in the sharp wind.
Chaos erupted instantly in the marketplace. Pedestrians scattered and fled, while a few brave souls hid in shadowed corners to watch the confrontation unfold.
The sword had sliced through the flesh between Brienne's ribs, sending pain shooting upward from her waist. She could feel blood seeping into her clothing.
Wounded in just the first exchange.
Three mounted men surrounded her, slashing at her with their swords.
Brienne raised her sword and shield to block two strikes, though her armor took another hit. With a roar, she swung her blade and struck one attacker, but took a sword blow to her arm in return.
A scream pierced the air as one man fell.
Good. One fewer opponent.
She gritted her teeth and fought the remaining two, one against two, yet showing no sign of weakness. Still, Brienne remained acutely aware of the man behind her, waiting for him to join the fray.
But Cole simply stood there watching, making no move to engage.
Had some sense of chivalry overtaken him? No, that wasn't it.
As soon as the sounds of combat had begun, a large contingent of guards had rushed to the scene.
Within moments, Brienne found herself surrounded by ranks of armed men.
This was Cole's territory, after all. Why would he need to personally intervene?
A spearman thrust his weapon, knocking her from her horse. Her rainbow guard armor clattered loudly as she hit the ground. Before she could rise to defend herself, five or six spears pressed against her body, pinning her down.
"Cole, you coward," she snarled. "If you're still a man, release me and fight me fairly, one to one." She struggled against her captors, hurling insults.
"Disarm her and bind her," Cole commanded, ignoring her challenge. He had no time for such theatrics.
"Are you afraid? Coward! Coward!" Though firmly restrained, her words remained defiant.
The guards removed her helmet, revealing Brienne's face.
Straw-colored hair, a broad and rough face, a nose broken several times, and uneven teeth. "Beauty" was the mocking nickname others had given her.
"Is Lord Tarth unwilling to submit to Storm's End? Is that why he sent you to assassinate me?" Cole crossed his arms over his chest.
"Pah!" She spat a mouthful of blood, which Cole easily avoided.
"It's impolite to spit at people, Lady Tarth."
"You murdered King Renly. I've come to avenge him. If you have any courage, face me in single combat. I'll personally remove your head and offer it to his shade." Brienne glared at him with pure hatred.
"The world may have misled you, but why would you believe such a thing, my lady?" Cole spread his hands helplessly. "I was fighting you and the Knight of Flowers when it happened."
The mention of that humiliating defeat filled her with shame and rage. She and Loras Tyrell had lost too quickly—she hated that she couldn't have held out longer.
"I didn't kill Renly, even though we were enemies at the time," he said with apparent distress. "I don't know why such rumors spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms."
"His death was most strange," Cole continued. "They say I killed him with sorcery, yet I don't recall learning any magic. War brings many accidents. I'd sooner believe he fell from his horse than listen to the absurd tales spun by bards."
Better to suspect Melisandre than himself. Wasn't such bizarre methodology the red priestess's specialty?
"Lord Renly was a renowned knight of the Seven Kingdoms. How could he simply fall from his horse?" she demanded.
"Believe what you will," he sighed. "I admire your chivalry in coming alone to avenge Renly."
"Secure her tightly," Cole ordered the soldiers.
Brienne was the heir to House Tarth. Even if she couldn't be leveraged to secure the loyalty of the Evenstar, she could certainly be ransomed for coin.
Tarth was also known as the "Sapphire Isle." Reportedly a beautiful place, though it seemed sapphires weren't actually found there.
They returned to Storm's End where Cole had Brienne thrown into the dungeon, instructing that she be confined to a cell alone. Cole didn't forget her status as a woman.
He had Gilbert write a letter to the Earl of Tarth. People said he was a good man, but good people often led difficult lives. Three of the Evenstar's children had died young—only Brienne had survived.
"My lord, should I deploy the troops? An army gathers outside Storm's End. Soon our food and supplies will run out," Gilbert asked.
They had been feeding three thousand men for nearly half a month, and both gold dragons and provisions were being consumed at an alarming rate.
"How long can we last?"
Gilbert had always managed the logistics. He kept meticulous records of the castle's daily income and expenditures, as well as the inventories of armor and weapons.
"Unless we tap into our march supplies, the castle's stores can only support these three thousand men for ten more days."
"Our plans must change, sir. For now, we cannot spare troops to retake the castles of Cape Wrath," Cole said, knowing Gilbert had also read the letter from King's Landing.
"I must go to Dragonstone. I wonder if His Grace has received word from King's Landing or news from across the Narrow Sea. If we lose too many men at Cape Wrath, we won't be able to repel enemies approaching by sea."
"But the lords are growing impatient. They support us only because we promised to help reclaim their castles," Gilbert reminded him, thinking of the lords and knights with their forceful demands.
"Don't worry, sir. Intelligent men can see our situation clearly. The Stormlands will soon face a new war, unless they wish their wives and daughters to become salt wives of the Ironborn and their sons to become Dothraki slaves." Though there would inevitably be some fools who couldn't grasp this reality, Cole left this unsaid.
"I'll hold council before departing for Dragonstone. I'll take these nobles with me. You'll serve as acting lord of Storm's End in my absence. I deeply regret the burden this places on you. José will accompany me, while Camillo will remain to assist you." Cole bowed his head in apology.
"My lord, have no fear. I will guard Storm's End for you and the princess."
"I don't know when I'll return. The situation is dire—I may need to travel to King's Landing or even the North. During my absence, everything falls to you. The training of soldiers can be reduced.
Have men form hunting parties to scour the Kingswood, and oversee the movement of supplies." Cole considered what else needed attention. "Ah, yes. Many sellswords have gathered in the town beyond our walls. It's growing unruly. Remember to post guards to maintain order."
Cole prayed to the Lord of Light that he might reach King's Landing. There was no better emissary than himself. Stannis certainly couldn't place himself in such danger, and Davos lacked the necessary status, despite now serving as the king's Hand.
He wondered if Melisandre had received new prophecies from her Lord of Light.
Cole had already dispatched a letter to the North. He could only hope Lord Eddard would receive it swiftly.
When would the enemies from across the Narrow Sea arrive? He could only pray they would have more time to prepare.