Renly stared at him with icy eyes. "What does Lord Tyrell think? Are you already prepared to agree to these terms?"
"Of course not," Mace said hurriedly. "But I think, perhaps we could also consider it carefully."
"Consider what?" Loras stood up, his face flushed. "Father, we are Renly's men. The king we swore allegiance to is him, not that Targaryen. If we do this, what will other houses think of House Tyrell? How could you..."
"Loras," Renly interrupted him. "Sit down."
Loras looked at Renly, then at Lord Mace, and finally sat down.
"Lord Mace," Renly began. "I understand your current concerns. The Targaryens have dragons, a massive army, and they are coming on aggressively. But don't forget, we also have an army of fifty thousand. As long as we have the support of the Stormlands and The Reach, and as long as we can remain united, it is not certain that we will lose. After all, even Aegon, who possessed three adult dragons, did not conquer Dorne, a place much more barren than ours."
He paused, then continued, "As for Lady Margaery, I believe she has her reasons. When the war is over in the future, I can speak with her in person, and I might even marry her to make her my queen. But for now, I need to know that you are certain you are still on my side, right?"
His thoughts actually coincided with Loras's. Although he was not interested in women, he had heard rumors of the Rose of Highgarden before. He had originally been waiting for House Tyrell to propose the marriage, but he hadn't expected the little rose to have gone to Valyria.
Lord Mace looked at the high-spirited Renly before him, his own heart stirred by him, and took a deep breath.
"Of course, Your Grace," he said. "I will always stand by your side."
Renly nodded and said nothing more.
After Mace exited the tent, Loras wanted to follow him out, but was held back by Renly.
"Let him go. I said I would marry your sister to make her queen without consulting you first; do you blame me?" Renly asked, looking at Loras seriously.
Loras looked at him, tears in his eyes. "I don't blame you; I had originally thought the same thing. Renly, my father, he..."
"I know," Renly said, pulling Loras into his embrace. "He had no choice before. The Targaryens' advance was too ferocious, and he was afraid. Many people are afraid, and I do not mind."
"But I will not be afraid. You will definitely win, Renly. I will help you sit on the iron throne. Then we will let everyone see who the true king is." Loras leaned on Renly's shoulder and said firmly.
Three days later, Renly's army began to move south, retreating toward Storm's End. In the empty camp they left behind, only piles of daily refuse and a few unburnt logs remained.
Renly sat on his horse, gazing at the army surrounding him. He did not know if this decision was right, but he had no other choice now.
On a distant ridge, several scouts in light armor watched the direction in which they were departing, then turned their horses and disappeared into the night.
The place they were heading to was King's Landing.
What Renly did not know was that, just a few hundred leagues away in the waters of Massey's Hook, Stannis was about to encounter the most desperate battle of his life.
Just as Stannis was in the command room of his flagship, seriously considering how to deal with the Valyrian Empire navy.
Behind him came the sound of urgent footsteps, and then a middle-aged man with slightly graying hair walked to his side; it was Ser Davos. "Your Grace Stannis, there is a situation ahead."
Stannis did not answer. He stepped quickly out of the cabin and gazed at the gray, misty sea in the distance.
In the distance, a ship was approaching. It was one of the ships the fleet had sent out for reconnaissance. The sailors on board were waving their hands and shouting something. Stannis could not hear what they were shouting, but he soon understood.
It was the Targaryen fleet approaching. As they rounded a winding stretch of sea, dense figures of ships appeared before them, and behind them, large groups of ships suddenly appeared, cutting off their retreat.
Stannis drew his longsword. He gripped the hilt tightly, and that face, which was always expressionless, finally showed a flicker of change.
Just in the days after Cersei had sent out the raven.
Harrenhal.
This legendary cursed castle had now become the command headquarters for the Western army. The black castle was huge and gloomy, with several dilapidated towers and walls covered in vines. Legend had it that it was often haunted, but Tywin did not care; he had never believed in ghosts or monsters.
He had chosen the largest well-preserved room to serve as his study. On the wall hung a huge map of Westeros, and the table was piled with raven letters and military reports.
At this moment, Tywin sat behind a long table, holding several raven letters he had just received. He was wearing a deep red coat, with the golden lion crest of House Lannister on his shoulder, and a pin representing the hand of the king on his chest.
His face was the same as always, devoid of any expression, his short golden hair was meticulously groomed, but those green eyes still flashed with a sharp light.
One of the letters was written by Cersei, the wording very urgent; the gist was that the Targaryens had landed, King's Landing was in imminent danger, and she wanted him to return with his army immediately to rescue it. There were also several letters from Casterly Rock, which were reports regarding the movements of Robb's army.
After reading them, Tywin put down the letters and looked out the window, expressionless. The study was very quiet, with only the firewood in the fireplace still crackling.
"What do you think about the plea for help from King's Landing?" Kevan Lannister sat opposite him, his face anxious as he waited for his decision.
But Tywin did not speak.
Kevan continued, "Cersei said she also sent letters to the Baratheon brothers, but I suspect they might just sit by and do nothing."
Tywin finally spoke, his voice as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "Of course they will sit by and do nothing; after all, their goal is the iron throne. Letting the Lannisters fight a decisive battle against the Targaryens in King's Landing only benefits them."
Kevan frowned and said, "Then what do we do now? Return to King's Landing?"
Tywin shook his head. "The Northerners will not let us withdraw our troops so easily. What do you think about this matter?"
"King's Landing must be saved," Kevan continued. "We can negotiate with the Northerners for a temporary ceasefire. Even if we have to cede some benefits, we must first secure King's Landing."
Tywin shook his head again. "The Northerners will not agree to a ceasefire. That boy, Robb Stark, do you think he just wants revenge? What he wants is the total destruction of House Lannister, and the resurgence of House Stark."
He paused, his voice low. "And even if he agreed to a ceasefire, the Lannisters could not possibly sue for peace with a wolf pup whose fur hasn't even grown in yet."
Kevan fell silent.
The study fell into silence once again.
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