Once the conversation between the two Westeros lords ended and the money was gone, he should leave Eddard Stark in the study and return to sleep.
The White Dragon had already set off from Dragonstone. He planned to scout Renly's army, though it wouldn't take long to reach Storm's End from the Rose Road. If he rode alone, he could get there in a day.
As for the White Dragon, it had taken only two hours to fly from Dragonstone to the Kingswood.
From the sky, the movements of twenty thousand men were clearly visible. They were nearly out of the Kingswood, though they hadn't marched overnight and had instead set up camp.
With the Eye of Time, Bailong observed the camp as if it were laid out before him. The tents stretched in a long formation, their lights resembling a blazing serpent in the darkness.
A crowned stag banner fluttered atop the main tent at the center of the camp. Bailong wondered if a cavalry charge could reach Renly before he could react.
The soldiers guarding the camp seemed well-prepared. The patrols wore helmets and armor, swords at their waists, spears in their hands, and shields emblazoned with the Baratheon stag strapped to their backs.
Circling above, Baelon Targaryen soon spotted the supply wagons at the rear of the formation, and a plan began to form in his mind.
Cole was shaken awake by his attendant, Fink, before he could get a full night's rest. His Majesty had something to discuss with him again.
When he arrived at the hall and saw Stannis, he noticed that Eddard Stark was present as well. After washing up and donning fine clothes, Lord Stark had regained his dignified bearing as Warden of the North.
"All right, my bannerman is here," Stannis said to the gathered lords and knights.
Cole followed the servants inside, still somewhat puzzled, and took a seat beside Stannis. Across from him sat Eddard Stark, with Melisandre at his side.
Everyone knew that Ser Julius was Stannis's most trusted confidant, so no one was surprised that he served as the king's standard-bearer.
A standard-bearer was more than just a flag holder; he was the king's voice, an adjutant. Until now, Melisandre had filled this role at Dragonstone, though many lords had resented a woman holding such authority.
After the Dance of the Dragons, the inheritance rights of women in Westeros had been severely diminished. Only in Dorne were women's rights still respected.
This was part of why Stannis wanted a son—not out of ambition, but a sense of duty. He had never coveted the throne for personal gain. In his mind, his claim was a matter of law and responsibility, not desire.
"I will go and meet with Renly," Stannis declared, turning to Cole. "You will accompany me as my bannerman."
Cole had just taken a sip of wine and nearly choked. "Your Majesty, a king should not put himself in unnecessary danger. Isn't this too risky? Renly has many men."
"If I do not go, he will think I fear him," Stannis replied. "Besides, I want to hear what he has to say. What justification does he have to name himself king? If he renounces his treasonous claim and swears fealty to me, I may consider leniency."
Stannis would never allow the law to be broken, even for his own brother.
"You are brothers," Eddard said firmly. "You shouldn't come to blows over this."
"You should address him as 'Your Majesty,' Lord Stark," reminded Ser Adrian Celtigar.
Eddard only dipped his head slightly in response. A man was not truly king until he sat the Iron Throne and was acknowledged by all the realm. But he kept those words to himself.
"Renly came with only his cavalry," Cole informed Stannis. "The bulk of his army remains at Bitterbridge, with most of his supplies still in the rear. He seeks a swift victory."
"We have only two thousand cavalry in full strength," he continued, "and most of them are freeriders. If we engage in a direct charge, we'll be playing into his hands."
"So you believe my brother seeks to provoke me into battle?" Stannis mused. It was certainly in line with the temperament of Renly, who reminded him all too much of Robert.
"If we don't fight, Renly will bring his entire army here and lay siege," Adrian Celtigar analyzed. "He is forcing our hand—we must either engage him now or prepare for a siege."
Either way, they were at a disadvantage, and crafting a strategy seemed difficult. Fortunately, Lord Velaryon had gone to secure provisions; otherwise, he would have been the first to insist on marching out for a decisive battle.
The choice before them was clear: fight or defend. Most of the lords favored defense—Storm's End was a formidable fortress, so why risk the field?
But as always, the old lord voiced his opposition.
"If we do not take the field, the Seven Kingdoms will say we fear Renly," Lord Celtigar said in his aged voice.
"A true king should not fear a false one," declared Ser Axell Florent.
Axell Florent had served as castellan of Dragonstone in Stannis's absence and was both his brother-in-law and a member of his council. A staunch follower of R'hllor, he rarely spoke in meetings except to support Melisandre.
All eyes turned to Stannis, who had the final say.
"We will decide after I return from meeting Renly," he stated.
And with that, the meeting was concluded. The lords and knights ate in silence before dispersing.
As Cole stepped out of the hall, he heard someone calling his name.
Turning, he saw Eddard Stark, the former Hand of the King. The older man first offered his thanks—after all, it had been Cole who arranged his meeting with Stannis, ending his days as a fugitive.
"Lord Stark, you should have the maester look at your leg," Cole said, noticing his limp.
Eddard scowled at his own weakness. If not for this injury, he would have been back in the North by now.
"Ser Cole," he said gravely, "you must convince Stannis. Now is not the time for him and Renly to fight. They should unite, take King's Landing first, and only then settle the matter of the throne."
Helplessness flickered in Cole's eyes. "Lord Stark, do you truly know Stannis? Do you know Renly?"
Eddard frowned, unsure why Cole had asked such a question, but he shook his head nonetheless. Among the three Baratheon brothers, he had only known Robert.
Cole came to a stop. "I don't know them either. I've only been with His Majesty Stannis for about two months, and as for Renly—I've never even seen him. Everything I know about him comes from rumors."
He sighed. "I understand that Stannis and Renly shouldn't be fighting each other right now, but they both want to be king. There is only one Iron Throne, and only one man can sit on it. Right now, one holds the title, and the other has the army. So tell me—who do you think should have the throne?"
Eddard's expression darkened with frustration. "Does it have to be decided now? Whoever sits that cursed chair will still be a Baratheon. King's Landing is in the hands of the Lannisters. Are we really going to let Joffrey keep the throne while Stannis and Renly tear each other apart? Do we fight among ourselves while Tywin Lannister marches his army into the capital?"
"Lord Stark, if you think this is pointless, why not tell His Majesty yourself?" Cole suggested.
As if he hadn't already tried. Eddard had gone to Stannis that very morning, laying out the dangers before him. And what had Stannis said in response?
"Lord Stark, I may need your army to claim the Iron Throne, but I have not forgotten that you took the Hand's position—that should have been mine."
Eddard scoffed at the memory. He had never wanted that damn badge. He had only come south because Robert had begged him to. If not for that, he would still be in Winterfell. And now, his daughter was a hostage of the Lannisters. He didn't care who sat the throne or who wore the Hand's badge—he only wanted to bring Sansa home.
If Cole had heard that exchange, he wouldn't have been surprised. Stannis had always been like that—unyielding, cold, and blunt to a fault. If Sandor Clegane was harsh on the outside but had some hidden warmth, then Stannis was the same within as he was without.
He rewarded those who served him and punished those who failed him. He never forgot.
Cole had earned enough merit to be granted land and a title—if they won the war. Victory meant rewards. And with Stannis, there was no risk of having his achievements overlooked or stolen.
If no existing castle could be granted to him, then Stannis would likely carve out a fief and allow him to build one.
Of course, new lords were rarely welcomed by the old nobility. House Frey had existed for six centuries, yet they were still called upstarts by the great houses of Westeros.
Lands and castles could not simply be handed out at will. Robert Baratheon had taken the throne because of his Targaryen blood, giving him legitimacy to rule the Seven Kingdoms and claim King's Landing.
But Stannis was different. He was rigid, bound by rules and laws. If a castle had a rightful heir, he would never take it from them. If he won this war, he would likely grant Cole land from his own domain, allowing him to build a keep of his own. Unless, of course, he was willing to grant Dragonstone itself—but that was another matter entirely.
In Westeros, titles and land were inseparable. If Stannis took the Iron Throne, it did not mean all the land in the realm suddenly became his. His direct domain would remain the Crownlands and the Stormlands. The other lords were not his vassals in the way a knight served a lord—they were his bannermen, ruling their lands in his name but retaining their own power.
A noble title represented the land a person ruled. The Lord of Winterfell governed the lands of Winterfell.
The title of Warden of the North gave Eddard Stark command over the North's armies. The title of Lord Paramount of the North gave him dominion over the North's lords.
This was why Eddard Stark was the undisputed ruler of the North.
It was the same reason Robert had argued over the titles of young Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie. King Robert had not wanted a sickly child to command the armies of the Vale. He had only wanted him to inherit his father's castle and lands—not to hold the title of Warden of the East, which would have placed him in command of the Vale's military forces.
Titles were like keeps and castles. Noble positions changed hands, but the lands remained. Even if a lord was slain, his holdings would pass to his children, or, failing that, to his closest kin. Only if an entire family was wiped out or declared traitors could their lands be taken and reassigned.
Cole, for now, held no such title. He was commander of Storm's End's defenses and the king's standard-bearer—an honored position, but not one that came with land. He was a knight, yes, but without a fief, he was not a landed knight.
That, however, could change—if they won the war.
---------------
Check out advanced chapters on : patreon.com/Veni_V