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The hall of Storm's End was filled with people. One by one, nobles entered with their knights and were guided by servants to their seats.
The seating was arranged in descending order from the high dais. At the center of the raised platform stood a long table, higher than the rest, reserved for the king and his closest advisors.
Colorful banners hung along both sides of the hall—each representing a noble house of the Stormlands. The seating positions below them matched their heraldry.
Looking straight from the main gate, one could see the crowned stag surrounded by a flaming heart—the royal banner of House Baratheon.
At the king's table sat House Florent of Brightwater Keep, bearing the red fox on gold. Known for their protruding ears, the Florents claimed descent from Garth Greenhand, the legendary High King of the First Men. Of course, nearly every Reach noble boasted the same ancestry, and some even claimed that the Starks of the North shared that ancient bloodline—though only the heroes of the Age of Legends would know for sure.
Lord Alester Florent had been the first noble of the Reach to bend the knee to Stannis. Because of this loyalty—and because Queen Selyse was a Florent by birth—his family earned the honor of sitting beside the king.
Next to them sat a maester and a red-robed woman.
At that moment, a silver-haired knight entered the hall. More striking than any man present, his sharp features carried a hint of Dornish blood. The ladies' eyes turned to him as he strode through the hall with quiet confidence.
Wearing a knight's sword at his waist and trailed by several heavily armored soldiers, he walked straight to the high table and took his seat beside the maester. Behind him flew the banner of the white fire-breathing bird.
Every noble of the Stormlands and the Reach had heard of the sigil. It belonged to Cole Julius—Stannis Baratheon's most formidable knight.
Some whispered that he had brought back a fire-breathing white raven from the Wall, and that it was this creature that killed Renly. Others claimed he used magic to summon white wraiths who tore Renly apart. Whatever the tale, Cole had become a figure of legend.
Cole himself knew little of these rumors. As for Renly's death, all he would ever say was, "It had nothing to do with me."
Stannis was the last to arrive. He entered the hall wearing his red-gold crown, flanked by the maester, the red priestess, and Lord Alester Florent. He took his seat at the center of the king's table.
Ser Axell Florent sat beside his brother. Rising to his feet, he shouted, "Silence!"
The hall fell quiet, all eyes turning forward.
Axell raised his voice, loud and formal. "Lords and knights, let us show our highest respect to His Majesty Stannis Baratheon—King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Long live the King!"
"Long live the King!"
"Long live the King!!"
The chants echoed throughout the great hall, crashing like waves against stone walls. But who among them meant it truly—no one could say.
Stannis sat unmoved, his face carved from stone. He lifted a hand to quiet the room.
"Silence!" Axell called again.
Stannis stood and addressed the hall. "I have summoned you here in the name of justice and rightful rule. I know many of you once followed Renly and stood against me. But I say this—if you now fight to restore the Iron Throne to its rightful ruler, I will forgive what came before. Those who prove themselves loyal shall be rewarded—with lands, titles, and castles. And I will see to it that their heirs are trained and raised with honor."
Then Lord Alester Florent rose to his feet. "It is known," he declared, "that you are the true and lawful king—last of the Baratheon bloodline and rightful heir to the Iron Throne. My house, the noble Florents of Brightwater Keep, stands ready to serve you."
He drew his sword and raised it high, pointing it toward the gods.
Swords were drawn one after another in solemn salute.
Cole also stood, but did not draw his blade. He merely bowed slightly in respectful acknowledgement.
Once everyone had returned to their seats, a voice from the hall called out:
"Your Grace, I propose that we sail directly by sea. King's Landing is less than three days away."
Cole, as commander of the fleet, responded calmly, "Though our navy has grown, it still cannot carry twenty thousand soldiers in one voyage."
"And what do you suggest, Lord Julius?" asked Lord Alester Florent, turning toward him.
Cole inclined his head slightly. "My opinion is of little weight, but if we must go by sea, then our ships would need to make at least three trips. That would mean a wide detour and delays."
"Then why not march by land?" said Lord Bryce Caron, formerly of Renly's Rainbow Guard. After being defeated and humiliated by Celtigar's knights, he had swiftly declared for Stannis. "We could move along the Rose Road and send the fleet up the Blackwater."
Stannis gave a nod—this was in line with his own thinking.
Seeing the king's agreement, the lords began eagerly voicing their thoughts. Many volunteered to lead the vanguard or serve as the king's personal guard. The hall quickly filled with a clamor of competing strategies and ambitions.
After the debate, a plan took shape: Stannis would lead the main host northward from Storm's End through the Kingswood to King's Landing. Meanwhile, Ser Imry Florent would take the fleet from Shipbreaker Bay, sailing around Cape Wrath, and then up the Blackwater River to strike from the bay.
Cole looked down at the admiral's badge pinned to his chest, but remained silent.
Next came the appointment of commanders.
Ser Guyard Morrigen was to lead the vanguard with five thousand men. Ser Parmen Crane and Ser Alester Florent's son, Aeron, would be sent to Bitterbridge to receive reinforcements pledged by the Reach.
Finally, the last decree was read aloud by Maester Pylos.
"Cole of House Julius, Marquis of Summerhall and Green Valley, is to be named acting Lord of Storm's End."
The declaration caused a stir—even Cole was taken aback. Marquis of Summerhall and Green Valley? That meant Stannis was granting him all the lands from Summerhall to the Green Valley.
Pylos continued reading from the parchment: "This council is now concluded. Let each man fulfill his duty. Any who violate the law shall be punished with the king's justice."
With that, Stannis stood and left the hall, leaving the lords to murmur among themselves in noisy confusion.
Cole rose as well and moved to the rear of the hall.
Davos approached with a wry smile. "Congratulations, Lord of Summerhall."
Cole gave a bitter smile and shook his head. "It's just a ruin."
Summerhall, once a Targaryen retreat, lay in ruins at the border of the Reach, Dorne, and the Stormlands. The Kingsroad ran nearby, but there was little of value left to rule.
"What will you do now?" Davos asked.
"I'm going to see the king."
Outside the royal corridor, they found Melisandre waiting, robed in her usual crimson. She greeted them in a quiet voice. "Ser Seaworth. Ser Julius."
As soon as Cole saw her, he began to understand.
"The king is not receiving visitors," she said, her red eyes fixed coldly on Cole.
Cole shook his head with a faint smile. Then, without a word, he removed the badge from his chest and held it out.
"Please return this to the king," he said.