Chapter 252: Civil Strife
As the Long Summer came to an end and the flowers withered, the splendor of Highgarden faded.
Within the spacious and sunlit banquet hall, Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, was hosting yet another lavish feast.
Since the fateful hunt, the lord of Highgarden had immersed himself in revelry, indulging in music, dance, and drink while neglecting the affairs of his lands. This hedonistic lifestyle had seen him grow even plumper, earning him the nickname "Lord Puff Fish."
The long table draped in luxurious silk was adorned with ornate silverware, elegant candelabras, an array of sumptuous dishes, and Goldengrove wine from the Arbor. At the center of the hall, the Tyrell family's favored fool, Butterbumps, was singing a bawdy rendition of The Bear and the Maiden Fair in his trademark absurd voice.
"Bear! Bear! Bear!
Covered in brown fur, fuzzy everywhere…"
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the hall's entrance, causing Mace to put down his goblet. His expression stiffened when he saw who had arrived.
"Lady Arwyn. I thought you had already left."
Lady Arwyn Oakheart, clad in meticulously crafted armor, strode forward with resolute steps. As she passed Butterbumps, she delivered a sharp kick, sending the fool tumbling across the floor in an exaggerated roll that drew laughter from the guests.
"Lord Mace," Lady Arwyn said flatly, "I have decided to head to the battlefield myself to avenge my son."
Mace waved dismissively, barely concealing his indifference. "The culprits who killed your son are already dead. I heard that Randyll sent their heads back. You should be receiving them in a few days."
"That's not enough!" Lady Arwyn growled, her teeth clenched. "I want more lives to be buried alongside my son!"
"Fine, fine," Mace replied impatiently, eager to end the conversation. "Go if you must, but from what I've heard, Randyll is doing quite well. By the time you arrive, the Stormlanders may have already surrendered. Hahaha!"
Lady Arwyn stared at Mace without expression until her unblinking gaze made him squirm and cut his laughter short.
"You'll soon see," she said icily, "how House Oakheart exacts its vengeance."
"Safe travels," Mace said curtly.
Lady Arwyn turned and left without another word.
Music resumed as Butterbumps reemerged from his tumble, launching into another verse:
"Bear! Bear!
Spinning around, slow and steady,
Moving toward the Maiden Fair…"
But before he could finish, a knight burst into the hall, his voice filled with urgency:
"Lord Mace! Terrible news! The Ironborn have appeared on the Mander River! The harbor is under attack!"
"What? The Ironborn?" Mace froze in shock.
One of the knights attending the feast sprang to his feet, exclaiming, "Impossible! If the Ironborn had invaded the Mander, the Shield Islands should have sent warning!"
"Exactly!" Mace shouted. "You must be mistaken!"
"My lord, I saw it with my own eyes," the knight insisted. "Over a hundred longships bearing Ironborn banners have sailed up the Mander. The harbor is ablaze, drenched in blood. You must rally the forces to defend it!"
Finally grasping the gravity of the situation, Mace scrambled to summon his bannermen and ordered them to muster troops to defend the port.
---
On the Mander River…
The Iron Victory plowed through the churning waters, ramming into a Tyrell vessel flying the golden rose banner.
With a deafening crash, splinters flew as the ship's hull was torn open, seawater gushing into the gaping wound. The Ironborn followed close behind, screaming war cries as they leapt aboard. At their head was Victarion Greyjoy, the "Iron Captain," leading the charge with his battle axe.
The Tyrell soldiers, while not outnumbered, found themselves overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the Ironborn.
They fear drowning, Victarion thought disdainfully as he observed the terror in their eyes.
The Ironborn did not fear the sea.
What is dead may never die!
"Kill them all!" Victarion roared.
Ignoring the sinking ship, he surged forward, swinging his massive axe. Tyrell soldiers closed in, their eyes betraying their growing panic.
Victarion relished their fear, cleaving off the arm of one foe with a single strike before slamming another into the deck with a sweeping blow. A third soldier slashed at him but was blocked by his oaken shield. Victarion retaliated, slamming the shield into the attacker's face.
Clang!
Victarion felt a sharp jab in his back as a spear slipped through the gaps in his armor, grazing his shoulder blade. Enraged, he spun around and brought his axe down, splitting the attacker's helmet and skull in a single, gruesome stroke.
All around him, the Ironborn overwhelmed the Tyrell forces. On the sea, they were unstoppable—a scourge born of death and salt.
"Back to the ships! Make for the shore!" Victarion ordered.
The Ironborn retreated from the sinking ship, setting its mast ablaze before diving into the river's waters.
The surface of the Mander was littered with debris: shattered vessels, splintered wood, and floating corpses, all stained crimson with blood.
Riding the tide and the wind, Ironborn longships surged toward the gravel beaches. The raiders jumped into the knee-deep water and charged toward the shore, where panicked fishermen, defenseless merchants, and untold treasures awaited them.
They would pay the "Iron Price"—
Gold was for the greenlanders. The Ironborn paid with steel and blood.
---
At Highgarden…
From atop the city walls, Ser Igon Vyrwel watched as Tyrell troops poured out of the castle gates, marching to defend the harbor. His face betrayed unease.
"Should we shut the gates?" a soldier asked hesitantly, awaiting orders.
"Not yet," Ser Igon replied, turning his gaze inward, as if waiting for someone.
Moments later, Lady Arwyn Oakheart ascended to the wall. Their eyes met briefly, and a mutual understanding passed between them.
"Where is your army?" Ser Igon asked in a hushed tone.
"Just outside the city," Lady Arwyn replied. "Two thousand elite troops. You'll see them soon enough."
"Good," Ser Igon nodded. "Most of the men here are loyal to me. Once your forces are inside, we'll head straight for the main keep. If we can take Lord Mace and his son Willas, Highgarden will be ours."
Ser Igon gripped the hilt of the sword and reminded, "Try not to kill too many people later. Our goal is to force the Puff Fish to change his stance, not a fight to the death with the Tyrell."
Lady Arwyn's eyes gleamed with resolve. "Understood. My real enemy lies elsewhere."
A soldier approached hastily. "Ser Igon, a large force is approaching the city. Should we close the gates?"
"Not yet."
"But—"
Before the soldier could finish, Ser Igon drew his sword, its silver blade glinting in the sunlight.
"Now!" he shouted.
The men loyal to him followed suit, drawing their blades and attacking their unsuspecting comrades.
Lady Aewyn motioned to her knights, who joined the fray, cutting down the confused defenders.
Cries of betrayal echoed across the walls as loyal guards realized too late that Ser Igon and Lady Aewyn had turned against Highgarden.
The fighting grew more intense as soldiers from the castle attempted to sound the alarm.
By then, the gates were wide open, and the Oakheart army poured into the city.
Meeting Ser Igon near the bloodied gate, Lady Arwyn declared coldly, "Mace Tyrell betrayed House Oakheart and the Reach First. Now, we will set things right."
(End of Chapter)