Chapter 16: Council of Stags, Shadow of the Hawk
The summons to Lord Robert Baratheon's Great Council of Stormlands bannermen was an opportunity Darth Vorhax had anticipated with cold calculation. It was a chance to step more formally onto the wider stage of regional politics, to assess his peers, gauge the leadership of his volatile Lord Paramount, and subtly project the ever-growing power of House Vorant. He understood that his presence would be as much a subject of discussion as any item on the agenda.
His preparations were meticulous. He would journey to Storm's End with a retinue designed not for overt aggression, but to radiate an aura of disciplined strength and chilling competence. Ser Gareth, his loyalty absolute, his demeanor reflecting his lord's grim resolve, would lead the fifty men of the Obsidian Guard who formed Vorhax's personal escort. Their dark, hawk-helmed armor, now synonymous with Stonefang's formidable iron and Vorhax's ruthless efficiency, was polished to a muted, predatory sheen. This time, Brandon Snow, the White Wolf, also accompanied them, along with a dozen of his most veteran Northmen. Snow's presence, as Castellan of Crow's Nest and commander of the renowned Wolf Brigade, signaled the integrated might Vorhax now wielded. Maester Vymar, armed with meticulously compiled dossiers on every significant Stormlord, traveled with them, his usual nervousness somewhat offset by a scholar's anticipation of such a momentous gathering.
Their arrival at Storm's End was markedly different from previous occasions. The raw hostility had been replaced by a more complex mixture of fear, wary respect, and intense, unnerved curiosity. The lords and knights already assembled for the council watched as the Vorant procession – the silent, black-clad Obsidian Guard moving with inhuman precision, the rugged Northmen radiating a quiet lethality, and at their head, the young Lord Vorant, his face an impassive mask, his eyes holding an ancient, unsettling wisdom – entered the formidable fortress. The fifty Obsidian Guard Vorhax had "gifted" to Robert's service were also present, their disciplined conduct having already made a distinct impression, though Stannis Baratheon undoubtedly saw them as Vorhax's eyes and ears within Storm's End.
The Great Hall was filled with the gathered nobility of the Stormlands – grizzled marcher lords, proud coastal magnates, landed knights with ancient lineages. Banners bearing stags, swans, nightingales, swords, and sunbursts hung thick, a vibrant tapestry of feudal power. The atmosphere was tense, charged with unspoken anxieties about the King's madness and the uncertain future.
Robert Baratheon presided, his youthful energy somewhat tempered by the gravity of his office, though his booming voice still filled the hall. He spoke of the troubling news from King's Landing – Aerys's increasing paranoia, the Queen's suffering, the shadow of the pyromancers, and the dangerous vacuum left by Tywin Lannister's departure. He called for unity, for strength, for the Stormlands to stand ready to protect its own peace and prosperity.
Stannis Baratheon, ever the dutiful younger brother, presented a more detailed, grim assessment of the realm's vulnerabilities, emphasizing the need for heightened vigilance, stricter adherence to feudal duties, and improved regional defenses. His gaze often lingered on Vorhax, a silent accusation in their depths.
Vorhax, for the initial part of the council, remained a silent observer. He listened intently as lords like Eldon Estermont, a fearful Lord Swann (who pointedly avoided Vorhax's gaze), the bluff Lord Grandison, and the proud marcher lord, Bryce Caron, voiced their concerns, their boasts, or their fervent declarations of loyalty to House Baratheon. He used the Force subtly, not to influence, but to sense the currents of emotion beneath their words – fear, ambition, greed, genuine loyalty, simmering resentment. It was a complex tapestry of human frailty and strength.
When Vorhax finally chose to speak, a hush fell over the assembly. His voice, calm and measured yet carrying an undeniable authority, cut through the preceding noise. "My lords," he began, his gaze sweeping the hall, "Lord Robert speaks with wisdom. Lord Stannis with commendable foresight. The realm is indeed troubled. In times of uncertainty, strength and order are not mere virtues, but necessities for survival."
He then subtly shifted the focus to his own domains. "In the lands granted to me by Lord Robert's justice and wisdom," (a phrasing that caused Stannis to visibly grind his teeth) "we have labored tirelessly to establish such order. Our granaries are fuller than they have been in a generation, thanks to improved methods of cultivation. Our forges produce iron of a quality that ensures our men are well-equipped to defend their homes and uphold their duties. Our borders, once plagued by lawlessness, are now secure. A strong fiefdom, my lords, contributes to a strong Stormlands. A prosperous people are a loyal people."
He offered no overt boasts, but his words painted a clear picture of competence and preparedness that few other lords could match. He even offered a seemingly innocuous suggestion: "Perhaps a common standard for arms and armor amongst our levies, using the most durable materials available, would enhance our collective strength. And a coordinated system for reporting border incursions or unusual activities, perhaps through a network of ravenries maintained at key keeps, could improve our shared vigilance." These were practical ideas, drawing on his advanced knowledge but framed in terms acceptable to this feudal society. Some lords nodded thoughtfully. Stannis merely scowled, likely seeing it as another attempt by Vorhax to impose his own standards or extend his intelligence network.
During the recesses and the great feast that Robert, despite the grim topics, insisted upon, Vorhax and his key retainers became focal points of cautious attention. Some minor lords, emboldened by wine or desperation, approached him, their voices low, inquiring about the possibility of acquiring Stonefang iron, or seeking his "counsel" on matters of defense. Brandon Snow, his Northman taciturnity a shield, deflected most inquiries directed at him with curt, noncommittal answers, though he observed everything with a wolf's keen senses. Ser Gareth, now a seasoned commander, handled approaches with polite but firm reserve, always deferring to his lord.
Vorhax himself engaged selectively. He spoke with Lord Estermont, reaffirming their trade agreements. He even had a brief, chillingly polite exchange with a pale Lord Swann, offering no apology but acknowledging Swann's presence with a slight nod that was more an assertion of dominance than a greeting. He used these interactions to gather whispers, to assess the shifting loyalties and fears of the Stormlords. He noted those who seemed overly critical of Robert's leadership, those who were deeply fearful of the King, and those whose ambitions might make them useful or dangerous in the future.
The council debated the King's madness, the potential for royal overreach, and the need to present a united front. Lord Bryce Caron, a powerful marcher lord, argued for strengthening border defenses against potential Dornish opportunism, given the instability in King's Landing. Others spoke of stockpiling grain and arms. Robert listened, interjecting with commands, jests, or roars of approval, clearly reveling in his role as leader of these powerful, often quarrelsome men.
Stannis, at one point, attempted to corner Vorhax publicly. "Lord Vorant speaks eloquently of order and preparedness," he said, his voice cutting across the hall. "Yet some might question the scale of his own military household, the unique nature of his 'Obsidian Guard.' Such a force seems… excessive… for a lord whose primary duty is to his own tenants and his Lord Paramount. To what end is such a formidable private army being maintained?"
Vorhax met Stannis's accusing gaze without a flicker of emotion. "Ser Stannis, my household guard is indeed formidable, as befits a lord responsible for extensive, recently pacified territories that were, for too long, a breeding ground for chaos. They are maintained to ensure the King's Peace within my lands, to fulfill my feudal obligations to Lord Robert by providing well-equipped, disciplined men when called, and to stand as a bulwark against any who would threaten the good people of the Stormlands. Their strength is Lord Robert's strength. Is it not the duty of every loyal bannerman to be as strong and prepared as his means allow, especially in such uncertain times?" He then added, with a slight, almost imperceptible smile, "The fifty men of my Guard currently serving Lord Robert here in Storm's End can surely attest to their discipline and utility."
Robert Baratheon guffawed at this, slapping his thigh. "Aye, Stannis, the boy's got you there! Those hawk-helmed devils of his are the best damn foot soldiers I've seen in years! Wish all my bannermen were as ready!"
Stannis's jaw tightened, but he could not refute Vorhax's logic without openly accusing him of treasonous intent, for which he still lacked concrete proof. Vorhax had once again turned a challenge into a subtle display of his value.
The Great Council concluded after three days with renewed oaths of fealty to Robert, resolutions to improve communications between keeps, and a general agreement to increase local militias and defensive preparations. Vorhax emerged with his position subtly enhanced. He had presented himself as a serious, capable, and surprisingly insightful lord, albeit one who radiated an unsettling aura of power and ruthlessness. He had gathered invaluable intelligence on the internal dynamics of the Stormlands and further solidified his network of tentative contacts. Robert Baratheon, while still wary, seemed to view him more as a potent, if unconventional, asset. Stannis's suspicion, however, had clearly deepened into something akin to certainty of Vorhax's dangerous nature, a threat the younger Baratheon would undoubtedly continue to monitor with relentless vigilance.
Back in the stark functionality of Stonefang, Vorhax analyzed the council's events. The Stormlords were disunited, driven by their own petty grievances and ambitions, held together only by Robert's forceful personality and their shared fear of the King's madness. Robert himself was a charismatic leader but lacked his brother's strategic depth or attention to detail. Stannis was the true danger, but his influence was limited by his abrasive nature and his brother's more impulsive temperament.
The wedding to Anya Weatherwax was now only a few months away. Vorhax gave the necessary orders for the preparations, viewing it as another strategic move to consolidate his position and project an image of feudal normalcy. His true focus, however, remained on the horizon.
A week after his return, a coded message arrived from the commander of his Obsidian Guard detachment at Storm's End. It was a piece of intelligence that made Vorhax pause, a cold understanding dawning. Lord Jon Arryn, Warden of the East and Lord of the Eyrie, a man known for his wisdom and honor, had reportedly sent a confidential letter to Robert Baratheon, and likely to other great lords as well, expressing grave concerns about King Aerys's mental state and suggesting the need for the great houses to… consult… on measures to ensure the stability of the realm. The letter also spoke, in veiled terms, of Prince Rhaegar's character and his potential role in any future crisis.
Vorhax stared at the decoded message. Jon Arryn, the foster father to Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark. This was not the panicked whispers of frightened courtiers; this was a major political figure initiating high-level, potentially treasonous, communication. The great houses were beginning to stir, to align themselves for the storm they all sensed was coming. The timeline was accelerating. The quiet years of preparation were drawing to a close. The shadow of the Hawk had grown long indeed, but now, the shadows of Stags, Wolves, and Falcons were beginning to lengthen as well, presaging a terrible, realm-shattering dawn.
(Word Count: Approx. 4200 words)