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Cole could tell that Lord Alester Florent had originally intended to persuade Renly and Stannis to make peace.
Did this old man think too highly of his own status? Did he really believe that his seniority would force Stannis to respect him?
It was clear that his efforts were in vain—Renly had sent him not to negotiate but to declare war.
That night, as expected, Renly launched a fierce assault on Storm's End. Burning his own supplies left him with no choice but to press forward. If he failed to take the castle, retreat would mean humiliation and defeat.
Twice—exactly twice.
Mace Tyrell knew that after this battle, he would be the laughingstock of the Seven Kingdoms. He seethed with hatred. Why hadn't that boy, Cole Julius, died? Why did he have to survive?
Little did Cole know that he was about to become the personal nightmare of a certain "Inflatable Fish Master."
Hurrying through the castle corridors, he was unexpectedly stopped by Lady Catelyn.
"Ser," she greeted him.
"Lady Stark, it's not safe out here. You should remain inside the castle," Cole advised.
Catelyn studied him carefully. "You were knighted by my uncle, Ser Brynden Tully."
Cole halted and nodded. "Yes, my lady."
He wasn't sure why she had brought that up.
"I need your help, ser," Catelyn continued. "Lord Stannis promised to send my husband and daughter back to the North, but there are still no ships for us to leave."
"Perhaps the king is simply occupied, my lady. Once the war is over, I will remind him. Do not worry—His Majesty Stannis is a man of his word." He turned to leave.
Catelyn grabbed his arm. "No, ser. I've seen Renly's camp with my own eyes. I know how many men he has. You cannot defeat him. I beg you—help my husband and children escape. I know you can do it."
"Forgive me, my lady, but I cannot," Cole replied firmly before walking away.
Catelyn could only watch as he disappeared down the corridor.
The battle began at dawn and raged on until dusk. Under immense pressure, Stannis committed every soldier to the walls, rotating them in shifts.
Cole descended from the battlements, his armor stained with blood.
The enemy only sounded the retreat when their forces began to crumble.
He had fought in the final wave of the assault, standing atop the walls in full armor. He only remembered cutting down six men—after that, everything blurred together. Had he fallen from such a height, he would surely have died.
Returning to the tower, he entered the keep. Their quarters were on the third floor of the inner stronghold. The second floor, once a hall, had become a chaotic barracks where exhausted soldiers rested. Hundreds of men were crammed together, sleeping on makeshift bedding while the wounded lay groaning in pain.
Storm's End was packed. The corridors were overflowing with people. Only the knights' quarters on the third floor felt relatively empty. The king's chambers were on the top floor.
From time to time, wounded soldiers were carried past on stretchers, leaving a trail of blood on the stone floor.
A soldier accidentally bumped into Cole and was immediately knocked down. The man scrambled to his feet, panicked. "Ser—I, I didn't mean—"
Cole waved him off, uninterested.
As he continued forward, soldiers stepped aside, allowing him to pass.
Ascending the stairs to the third floor, he crossed paths with Lord Velaryon, who shot him a cold glare before striding away.
A few steps later, he encountered Lord Celtigar. The older noble offered a polite smile.
"Ser Julius," he greeted.
"Lord Celtigar," Cole replied.
"I brought some fine wine from Crab Isle," Lord Celtigar said, pouring himself a drink. "Ser, you've just come down from the city walls—why not have a taste? The merchant told me it comes from the Arbor. A single barrel cost me several golden dragons."
"It would be an honor," Cole replied.
The two entered the old count's attic, where a young woman was already inside. She looked barely past girlhood.
"Oh, let me introduce you," Celtigar said with a smile. "This is Melena. She's a good girl. We plan to wed after the war. I wonder if Ser Julius will do us the honor of attending."
He turned to her and ordered, "Go pour some wine for our guest."
Melena quietly took a flask and poured the deep red wine into a copper cup.
Cole wasn't surprised to see the old count in the company of a young woman. Whether she was the daughter of a minor noble sworn to Celtigar, a commoner, or even a whore, it made little difference.
"A man needs a woman by his side," Celtigar mused. "And the older he gets, the more he needs one." He ran his fingers over Melena's hand as she poured.
She lowered her head, her gaze distant, as if lost in thought.
Then Celtigar gave her a hard slap on the back, making her yelp.
"Stupid wench! Didn't you see the wine spill on me?" he snapped.
Melena flinched. "I—I didn't mean to, my lord," she stammered, her eyes welling with tears.
"What are you standing there for? Clean it up!" Celtigar barked. "Do you even realize how expensive this wine is? Even if I sold you and your lowborn father, it wouldn't be enough to replace it."
Then, with a quick shift in demeanor, he turned back to Cole with an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, Ser Julius. This foolish girl has ruined our moment."
Cole took a sip of his drink. He was no connoisseur; to him, all wine tasted the same. He rarely drank it, preferring boiled water or ale instead.
If Celtigar knew his guest was mentally comparing this expensive Arbor red to cheap ale, he'd likely be insulted.
"No trouble at all," Cole said simply. "I appreciate the fine wine."
The old count's wrinkled face split into a pleased smile.
"It would be even better with some crab pie and roast pigeon," Celtigar sighed. "Unfortunately, when our king ordered me to transport food, he insisted that all supplies be rye and fish. It seems His Majesty has little taste for indulgence. But I've lived long enough to know—when you're young, you should eat well while you can."
"I agree," Cole said. "I've even worked as a cook before."
For a fleeting moment, contempt flickered in Celtigar's eyes, but he quickly masked it with a smile.
"I wonder who had the honor of tasting a dish prepared by the great Ser Julius?"
"Some greedy men," Cole said with a smirk, thinking of the men at the Wall.
"Men are always greedy," Celtigar mused. "Just as they hunger for food, they hunger for women. The king forbids women in his camp, though he keeps one by his side. But if he wants his men to fight, he must either give them food or women. I imagine Storm's End doesn't have much food left in its stores."
"We are loyal to His Majesty Stannis," Celtigar continued, swirling his wine. "And we should do our part to help him solve his problems. As the naval commander personally appointed by him, you should hear this first—I will be responsible for continuing to deliver food to His Majesty."
Cole's hand tightened slightly around his cup. "I was under the impression that His Majesty sent Ser Davos to handle food transport."
"Oh, forgive me," Celtigar said with a chuckle. "This old fool merely wishes to assist the Onion Knight. I was hoping you'd provide a warrant for my departure."
Damn it, Cole cursed inwardly.
This old fox was trying to run.