22

Chapter Twenty Two

Mid 61 AC

Eastwood

All around me were familiar faces.

The council chamber was in use once more, though this was perhaps the most alarmed the faces of my most trusted had ever looked. I had expected a conflict, though one in the Marches rather than at home, yet it seemed once more I had expected the best in people who certainly enjoyed failing to meet my expectations.

The Bucklers had far from suffered a crippling blow the last time they had engaged me, I was reminded of a phrase about never dealing an enemy a small blow. Perhaps this could have been avoided.

"-and so we arrived here," the fatigued Regent took a breath as he finished his story. The past few hours must have been harrowing for him.

I spent some time considering his words. Ultimately the tale lined up with my own expectations on the matter. Having received word that Rogar was dead in itself wouldn't be that bad. But the fact that Garon had been named Regent instead of Borys well, that was a clusterfuck in itself and it became all too obvious that there would be a clash between the two main factions of the Stormlands.

I could definitely understand the decision. Borys was a boorish, cruel and shortsighted moron. Having him as Regent would see Boremund dead within a week and even if that didn't happen, Borys would eventually either drive the Stormlands into ruin and/or spark a war. And it seemed that war would now occur regardless.

Normally this would be a very different fight, but with all the Lords of the Marches and many of those from Cape Wrath, still in Dorne with the King, it would be a bloody fight between myself and those houses allied with me and our enemies in the supporters of Borys.

"Let us hold a moment of silence in remembrance of Lord Rogar, may his soul rest in peace," I intoned solemnly as I bowed my head. The niceties needed to be observed. I found myself saddened about Rogar's death. While the man was not the best Lord Paramount, being far too rigid and orthodox, he'd still performed his duties well enough and kept the peace. He had even ennobled me for my father's actions, and given me lands and a Keep, where others may have just squired me to some hedge knight. For that alone, he would always have my respect and gratitude.

Around the table, I saw the others also bow their heads in respect. Most of all Ser Garon. I did not envy the man at the moment. He'd lost his brother, was forced to flee in fear of his other brother and had to sacrifice most of his household in the process. This was probably the first time since he fled that Garon actually had the chance to mourn.

"It is a tragedy that Ser Bruce died in such a fashion. Though, when one considers his age, to die fighting for what is right does his memory great honour," there were various nods around the table at my words.

"We should write to Ser Benjen. Inform him of his father's death," said Armon.

"I shall write to him myself. His father died in service of House Baratheon. He should hear the news from me," replied Garon.

I nodded at that and a brief silence fell over the room as we mourned Ser Bruce as well. While we had not received definite confirmation of his death, the very idea that Borys would leave him alive was laughable.

I'd miss the old Castellan. He was a wily player of the game and had over the years been pivotal in the rise of Eastwood's fortune. But beyond that, he was a good man and someone I may have even called a friend. I steeled my nerves at that, many more would die if I made the wrong decisions now.

I took a breath and continued, "All we can do now is plan how best our, admittedly meagre, resources can be used to their fullest potential," already there were some ideas forming in my head, though I wouldn't share them with the full council quite yet.

Serwyn chimed in, "Firstly, I feel it pertinent to assuage any of your worries, Lord Baratheon, I am certain all of us at this table fully intend to support you and Lord Boremund as best we can."

My eyebrows rose at my folly, I had jumped straight into planning without mentioning what I intended to do, "Yes, of course, my lord. House Eastwood is forever leal to House Baratheon. Lord Rogar ennobled me after my father saved his life. I will not toss his son and brother to the wolves. You and Lord Boremund are perfectly safe and have the full support of House Eastwood."

A tenseness left Garon's shoulders as if I had removed a great weight, which I suppose I had done. Fleeing your ancestral castle with your nephew and only a handful of guards would set anyone on edge.

"Should I put out the call for a muster, my lord?" I turned my head to James who stood tense but ready.

I hummed, "Yes, there seem to be no other options. This will be a fight. We are fortunate we did our best preparing for a conflict in recent times. The men we recruited have been trained and equipped, I don't expect there are many forces in the Stormlands that are better than them, though with such inferior numbers it will be a struggle."

James nodded and made to stand but I raised a hand to stop him, he could get to his duties at the conclusion of the meeting, "We must also make sure to put patrol units and town guards to the West and South on alert. I expect they'll be mustering at Bronzegate soon to make an assault here in Eastwood."

"I'll dispatch riders to the mining village and Daegon's Valley, ordering the patrols and town guard to be on alert for any activity. Deserters from the main force or bandits may try to take advantage of the hostilities and raid the region while our attention is diverted," said James.

"Just deserters and bandits though? But what if the Bucklers were to assault the town directly?" questioned Warren.

"I highly doubt it. Daegon's Valley is protected by the mountainous terrain that surrounds it. It is also some ways away from the route between Bronzegate and Eastwood. The town guard is well equipped and the walls are tall and strong. The enemy would have to commit at least a few hundred men to take the town and even then it would take much time. Eastwood and Lord Boremund are the greater prizes. They will march here with haste and bypass Daegon's Valley. I'd stake my life on that!" said James confidently and his words did make sense.

Bryce Buckler was many things but stupid was not one of them. He knew that he had a limited amount of time to capture Eastwood and take custody of Boremund before the Crown intervened. He would not waste time assaulting and capturing Daegon's Valley in such a situation. Eastwood was the crown jewel of my fief. He would not waste time plundering the hinterlands for coppers and stags when Eastwood could be in his grasp. Moreover, he probably believed that once he dealt with us, he'd probably annex the town anyway and would not want to damage its infrastructure.

"I agree. But even then. I'd like to be safe. Bryce Buckler may dispatch raiding groups to the region just to spite us. His army will most definitely rape, plunder and pillage along the way. Dispatch the riders with the orders for the smallfolk in the region to take shelter in Daegon's Valley or in the mining town. And have all the guards and patrols in the region maintain vigilance."

James pointed to a specific route on the map, "Buckler and his forces will most likely take this route to march to Eastwood. He is well aware that he needs to assail and take Eastwood before the Crown intervenes, but an even bigger concern for him will be to do so before Lord Tarth arrives with his forces. He will travel as quickly as possible, so the danger to the smallfolk should be much reduced, but even so, I'd recommend that all the villages and settlements near that route be evacuated."

"I agree. Send orders to Ser George in the Western Patrol Unit. I want his men to ensure that all the smallfolk are quickly evacuated to either Daegon' Valley or Eastwood, whichever is closer. Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but your father won his spurs for his valour as a scout during the Dornish War did he not?"

"Yes he did, my Lord."

"Good, because I will have need of Ser Harys and his men. I want him and his cavalry unit to do everything in their power to delay and bleed the enemy. Burn their supplies, poison their food, ambush them in the dark, I don't care what he does as long as the Bucklers rue the day they decided to cross my fucking borders again."

"Very well my lord. I shall see it done. Father doesn't speak much of his time in the war, but from what I know, he didn't earn a knighthood by watching the Dornish from afar. He will see your will done," replied the Master of Arms.

There were worried looks all around, especially on the face of my wife and her mother.

"Now let us turn our attention back to the defence of Eastwood itself," I continued after giving my advisors some time to process my orders.

My tired Maester decided to speak, "My lord, whilst the castle here is well fortified and defensible, the town itself will need to be fortified as best we can manage."

I sighed and leaned back, protecting the smallfolk was going to be the hardest part of this war, "The new walls are reasonably strong and should allow us to defend easily enough, but we desperately need reinforcements from Lord Errol. Together, the Bucklers, Fells and Trants possess over seven thousand men. We only have eight hundred, House Errol can call upon just below four thousand and House Tarth another thousand. But even then, it will take time for them to muster their full strength and I have no doubt that Bryce Buckler is already mustering his troops. Time is not on our side," pausing to take a breath I looked at Armon, "Send missives to those houses requesting their aid."

Elena gripped my hand, "My uncle will certainly support us, but it will take time for him to gather the men and cross the strait, possibly time we don't have here."

I grunted in acknowledgement, "So much of this relies on Lord Errol, but on the bright side, travel between Haystack hall and here would be very fast, owing to the road we built."

Ser Jarett nodded appreciatively, "With our men and Lord Errols, the numerical advantage the enemy possessed would be less. Our walls would allow us to hold against such a siege and they'd lose many men attempting to breach the walls."

"Ser Jarett, I will have your town guard also participate in the defence of Eastwood. Aside from the regular levies, we have some surplus weapons and armour that were to be a part of a shipment of arms to Maidenpool. Put out the call in Eastwood good Ser, ask for able-bodied young men to take up arms against these invaders. See to it that they are well-armed and trained before the enemy arrives," I order the Captain of the Eastwood Town Guard.

"James, I want you to work with Ser Jarett to prepare a plan for defending both the town and the Keep. You have complete authority to requisition any people, resources or equipment that you may need for the defence," I turned my attention to the Master of Arms.

He nodded, "This is going to be a nightmare, but a manageable one I think. The biggest challenge will be protecting the smallfolk in and around Eastwood. How many could we offer shelter here?"

Armon hummed in thought, "Many thousands, though that would shorten the time we could bear under siege."

"That will not matter. A prolonged siege is not a viable option for Borys Baratheon. Eventually, the Crown or the other Stormlords will intervene. Give the order for all the smallfolk in the neighbouring villages and on the route from Bronzegate to be evacuated to Eastwood. I will not have them fall prey to the depravities of Bryce Buckler and Borys Baratheon," I replied after some thought.

Putting that thought away for later, I turned my attention to the next matter, "We must alert the Stormlords and the King. This is a total violation of Aegon's first law, that of the King's Peace. Add to that the fact that Lord Boremund is a half-brother to the King and his fury should be a true sight."

"I'll draft a letter to be sent to the Stormlords and King's Landing," said Armon.

"I shall add my own account and seal to that, Maester," offered Ser Garon, nodding at me.

"Very well. Elena, I'd like you to personally write to your uncle. I shall do the same for Lord Errol requesting their aid and support. Aside from them, only Lord Evan Connington will be able to provide any meaningful support in time. Serwyn, you are friends with Ser Evan, is he likely to aid us?" I asked by goodbrother. He had after all fostered with Evan Connington at Rain House and brokered the deal for the sale of Eastwood Ale to Griffin's Roost.

"To be honest Aelon, I can't be sure. While I would like to believe that he would come to our aid, Evan is at the end of the day a pragmatic man. Our chances of winning are low and he would not commit to aiding us if he believes our chances of winning are bleak," stated Serwyn bleakly.

"Write to him nonetheless. Offer him a substantial discount on exports of charcoal, ale, crop and lumber if he were to support us," I said as I turned to Ser Garon, "The Conningtons have long wished for a Baratheon marriage. Ser Ronnal's daughters are unmarried still. As Regent, you could arrange a union. Would House Baratheon be amenable to that?"

Ser Garon sighed but nodded nonetheless.

"Dangle that as a carrot. But also inform him that if he were to support the other side, we will see to it that House Connington will not be in a position to seek marriage with even the bastard child of a Knightly House. At the very least we must ensure his neutrality," I ordered Serywn as the man nodded frantically.

"Warren, I want you to keep your ear to the ground. Reach out to every agent, spy and liaison you have. I want to know how many men Borys has, their composition, their armament and their planned routes of travel. I want to know who the hell are their commanders and how quickly they shall reach Eastwood. And as far as Bryce Buckler and Borys Baratheon go, I want to know everything, if they even take a shit I want to know what colour it was. Am I clear?" I thundered as my temper finally boiled over.

The situation was beyond precarious. But I needed to calm down.

Rubbing my forehead, I calmly said, "Very well. Let us get to it then. I do not need to stress how critical the next few days are to the future of not just House Eastwood, but House Baratheon as well. But I have faith that we will get through this."

We have to.

Mid 61AC

Eastwood

2 Days Later

It had been two days since that fateful meeting in the council chambers. Much had been accomplished since then. Even more, was yet left to be done. The call for the muster had gone out and so far it seemed that the response was good. My levies from across my lands were pouring in and the men at arms and my knights were drilling the ones who had already arrived constantly.

James had truly outdone himself with their training and I expected Garon to be satisfied. The officers that had been selected were taking charge of the training and troops were being distributed evenly to ensure that the experienced men at arms and those smallfolk with experience as soldiers in previous wars were matched with the more inexperienced levies. I pushed aside my worry at the coming days and I settled into a comfortable pace towards the yard.

I had asked Ser Garon to lend his expertise and advice in the training, organisation and preparations of the troops. A seasoned Knight, his experience was thus far proving invaluable in many areas of martial affairs.

I found the last Baratheon brother to be a far more affable sort than his siblings, Ronnal had been a drunkard, Borys a cunt and Rogar, whilst a good lord was not a particularly pleasant man most of the time.

The man had mostly remained silent during the council meeting, which meant he was either wise enough to let others take the lead in matters where he lacked expertise, or that he was nervous about taking command having been a follower and not a leader for all his life. If we managed to make it through the next few weeks with our necks still attached to our shoulders, I could make either of the two options work for me.

Now that the initial panic and hysteria of the situation had died down, I could think more clearly about how to approach the coming strife. It would all come down to how long I could hold off the upcoming invasion. Ravens had already been dispatched to Blackhaven and Stonehelm, informing them of the situation and requesting the King's aid. They should have received the message already and it would probably take a rider anywhere between two to three weeks to ride out, track down the King's host and deliver the message.

If the King understood the urgency and immediately rode out on Vermithor to settle the issue, which considering Jaehaerys's reputation and the fact that Boremund was his half brother, was highly possible, then we could feasibly be relieved between fifteen to twenty-five days.

If the King did not take flight on his dragon, then it would not matter what he would do, because, in that much time, the fight would be over, one way or another.

My thoughts were interrupted when I reached the yard to find the Baratheon Knight already up and about and drilling with some of the younger smallfolk levies from Eastwood who had volunteered to take part in the fighting.

Not only was I surprised to see the sheer number of smallfolk who had answered the call for volunteers, enough so that we actually had to turn some away as we did not have the weapons or armour to outfit them with, but also at the fact that it was Ser Garon who had taken up the charge of training them today, instead of leaving it to one of my men at arms.

"Lord Eastwood! A surprise to see you here. I thought you would be busy overseeing the defences of the Keep," called out Ser Garon as he noted my presence.

"Serwyn has that well in hand. I decided instead to check in on the training of the smallfolk but it seems that you have that well in hand," I responded jovially while reaching out to shake his outstretched hand.

My opinion of him went up a few notches. Any man willing to get down into the mud and spend his time drilling smallfolk was alright in my opinion. The fact that he seemed to be treating them well also went in his favour.

"Aye, they are a little rough around the edges and green as grass to boot, but they make up for it with sheer loyalty and determination. I know not what you did to earn such devotion from your people, Aelon, but I would very much like to find out," replied the Regent.

"I am blessed to have earned such loyalty, Lord Regent and hope to see their faith in me reposed," I said as I picked up a training sword and shield, "but for now, would you be interested in a spar, my lord? With war on the horizon, I find myself in need of a sparring partner to keep my skills sharp."

The man barked out a laugh as he turned to face me, "Have at it then Aelon."

And so we sparred.

It went on for several minutes, some bouts going in my favour, but most in his. I was not disheartened though. I always knew that I would never be more than above average at fighting, and had instead focused on bettering myself in administration and business. Garon on the other hand, as a third son, had devoted himself to the sword since childhood and was famed as a skilled knight throughout the kingdom.

We were eventually interrupted by a panting page, "My Lords, pardon the interruption, but the Steward has urgently requested your presence in the council chambers."

Garon and I turned to each other and nodded as we abandoned our swords and immediately made our way to the keep.

We were greeted in the chambers by Warren and Armon who bowed as we entered.

"My Lords," began Armon, "we have received word from Storm's End."

My eyebrows rose at that.

"From Ser Borys Baratheon my Lord. It seems he has secured the castle," continued the Maester.

"What does it say?" asked Garon.

"We received two letters, my Lord. One is a general proclamation and the other is a letter directly addressing Lord Eastwood."

I waved at him to continue.

"The first declares Ser Garon Baratheon and Ser Bruce Bucklers as traitors for conspiring to usurp the Regency of Borys Baratheon by producing a fake will and when that failed, kidnapping Boremund Baratheon and escaping to Eastwood. He further goes on to name Lord Eastwood as a conspirer in this treason and calls upon all loyal lords of the Stormlands to join him in sieging Eastwood to rescue Boremund Baratheon, and return him to the care of his true Regent," the man said as his hands shook lightly.

"And what of the other letter?" I asked calmly even though internally I was anything but calm.

The man wordlessly handed over the letter to me.

Aelon of House Eastwood,

You are hereby commanded to hand over Ser Garon Baratheon, Lady Mya Baratheon and Lord Boremund Baratheon to my care and custody.

If you do so peacefully, I shall give you the benefit of doubt that you were not aware of my brother's vile treachery and were hoodwinked and tricked into extending your support. In that case, you have my word, that House Eastwood shall face no punishment for your actions.

I order you to lay down your arms and allow my armies to enter your lands so that we may ensure the safety of my nephew, Lord Boremund Baratheon.

If you fail to comply, then I shall personally lead my armies to sack your lands, slaughter your people, burn down your keep and put your entire family to the sword.

House Eastwood shall not even be a footnote in history after I am done with you.

Ser Borys Baratheon,

Regent to Lord Boremund Baratheon,

Lord of Storm's End,

Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.

My blood boiled as I read the letter. The sheer gall and audacity of the man, to threaten my family!

"How dare he? I'll have his head, Armon. I'll kill him with my bare hands even if it's the last thing I do!" I roared as rage and fury overtook reason.

"Please my lord, be calm, now is not the time for rage. Save it for the battlefield," said Garon as he reached out to place a hand on my shoulder.

"I agree with the Lord Regent, my Lord, we need to address this problem first. We need to respond. Control the narrative as you are so fond of saying," added Warren.

Eventually, after much cajoling, I eventually regained my composure. I took the other letter from Armon as well to read, the one sent to every Lord in the Stormlands and probably to King's Landing as well.

"I doubt this was written by Borys," I noted.

"Aye. It is much too articulate and intelligent for this to have been concocted by him," agreed Garon.

"But does it matter my Lords? The argument he makes is extremely compelling and the events that have occurred lend credence to his claim. The only witnesses to the opening of Will were yourself, Ser Bruce and the Maester. Ser Bruce is dead, and this letter is not written in Maester Gerion's hand, I have corresponded with him enough to know that, which means that he is also most likely dead. If Ser Borys were to take Eastwood and destroy the Will, then our entire cause would collapse regardless of the Crown's intervention," pointed out Armon, his tone conveying his distress.

"Then we must make sure that Eastwood doesn't fall," I said in a tone that brooked no argument.

I had underestimated my foe. Again.

Ser Borys had somehow presented very legitimate reasoning for his actions and portrayed Garon and I in a bad light. We had gone from being the dutiful and honourable lords protecting the Lord of the Stormlands, to kidnappers and usurpers.

Of course, not everyone would believe Ser Borys. In fact, most would still believe our version of events. After all, ravens had been sent out by the Master of Storm's End, certifying and authenticating the will before the bloodshed started and it was known by most of the nobility that Rogar disliked Borys and would likely prefer Garon as Regent.

But none of that would matter if Borys took Eastwood and destroyed the will. He wouldn't even have to kill Garon, if he managed to capture Mya, Garon's daughter, then the man would fold instantly.

The silence was shattered by Garon cursing, "What a clusterfuck."

I could not help but snort at that. He could not have described the situation better.

A clusterfuck indeed.

Eastwood

Mid 61 AC

Aelon POV

2 Days Later

Ser Garon and I made our way through the corridors of my Keep and eventually made it to the top of the castle walls from where we could see the levies and men at arms drilling in the distance.

Over the past few days, I had found myself spending much of my time with the new Regent of the Stormlands. We spoke of defence strategies, numbers, weapons and troop movements among many other topics related to the upcoming warfare.

But even then we had spoken about other things as well. And I could now surmise that Garon Baratheon was perhaps the only decent human being amongst the Baratheon brothers. While not a good man by modern standards perhaps, by the standards of Westeros, he was undoubtedly better than most.

The man cared for his daughter and nephew, had a good head on his shoulder for a noble and did not treat smallfolk like cattle. Over the past few days, I had noted that he made it a point to spend at least an hour every day with his daughter and nephew.

The Baratheon children had been settled in the family quarters along with my own kids and seemed to be getting along just fine. Edwell and Boremund seemed to have formed a bond even, which was good for if we were victorious then the two would be fostered together at Storm's End.

Ser Garon and I eventually made our way to the castle walls where we found Warren as well. The man had news for me it seemed. He fell into step alongside us.

As we walked the castle walls, it was clear to see Ser Garon was surprised at the quality of my men. My preparations were paying off big time in that regard. All the men called up were well equipped from the stores I had spent years building up.

"I admit, my lord, my surprise that you have men in such numbers, and the quality of weapons they are equipped with."

I smiled cheekily, "I will forgive your underestimation in light of the plight these lands were in a decade ago."

Garon gave me a true smile, "Yes, I was told of your rising prominence but to see it myself is another matter. You have truly done well with what you were given."

It was always nice to receive praise, I thought as we continued our stroll around the castle. Within the castle training yard, only two hundred of my men could fit comfortably, so another training yard had been temporarily set up outside the walls for the purpose of preparation. Once the enemy drew near all my men would be guarding the castle or the town itself.

Garon broke the silence, "I think it's time we consider our strategy for the coming battle."

I took a moment to consider and then responded, "I believe we should follow Ser James's plan, my Lord. Ser Jarett also concurs that it is the best option."

"I find myself agreeing. My only concern is that it is predicated on the arrival of Lords Errol and Tarth."

"I have faith in my allies, my Lord. They shall be here. Eastwood is not a very large castle, my lord. We would not be able to accommodate my men as well as those from Haystack Hall and Tarth. It would be better to leave a small garrison in the castle to split their forces. The defences here will require them to send a good two thousand men there where they can be held in place by a mere five hundred of our own," I countered.

"I agree my Lord, but a small garrison will quickly be overwhelmed," replied the Regent.

"Most likely. But it will cost them heavily and divide their forces. They cannot afford to turn their backs and ignore the Keep either else the garrison will attack them when their backs are turned. In the meantime, we shall remain safe in Eastwood. The forces we face will be lesser and the walls are strong and defensible. The rest of my men and the Errol and Tarth troops will be of much better use this way."

Garon smiled, "It is predicated on Lord Errol and Tarth arriving soon. While Tarth will take time, as long as Errol arrives before the enemy, this plan may work. It is not without risk, but if Errol does not arrive we can always focus on defending the Keep alone."

An idea that I was not comfortable with but would nonetheless have to live with. Thousands of smallfolk made Eastwood home. Smallfolk that I was supposed to protect. Smallfolk who would be mercilessly slaughtered by Borys and Bucklers.

Furthermore, Eastwood was my greatest accomplishment. All my industry, infrastructure and commerce was concentrated in that town. If the town was sacked, I'd lose over a decade worth of development in a single go.

Lord Errol had to arrive. The alternative was unthinkable.

"I do have some news on that end, my Lords," chimed in Warren. I had almost forgotten that he was with us.

"Lord Errol will have to make haste, my Lords. My agents in Bronzegate inform me that Lord Buckler called his banners a few days ago, just a day after Ser Garon arrived here in Eastwood," continued Warren.

"I see that they are wasting no time," seethed Garon.

"Indeed. Lords Fell and Trant have also answered his call. While Lord Trant will take some time, Lords Buckler and Fell are gathering a huge host at Bronzegate. They shall march within two to three days and arrive at Eastwood in ten days by my estimations," reported the Steward.

"And what are their numbers?" I questioned.

"I cannot be sure at this stage my Lord. They cannot gather their full strength at such short notice, but even then I expect that Lords Buckler and Fell shall be able to call upon anywhere between four thousand and eight hundred to five thousand two hundred troops."

Silence.

"They will outnumber us more than five to one," Garon pointed out the obvious.

"Not if Lord Errol arrives before them."

"Even Errol will not be able to draw upon his full strength. At the very most he may add three thousand troops. And Trant will arrive with his own men much before Tarth."

I gazed out at the town that lay before me. My town. My people.

I took a deep breath and fixed my gaze at Ser Garon, "Which is why we will hold out until Lord Tarth arrives. And then…we will turn the tide."

Haystack Hall

Edwell POV

The Same Day

The Lord's solar of Haystack Hall was, as always, a flurry of activity. After the first raven announcing the death of Lord Rogar and the appointment of Ser Garon as Regent, the commotion lasted a full day. His father had been in bits attempting to work out how the politicking of the Stormlands would go during what would be a long regency. All those thoughts were put down when they received communication from Eastwood detailing Borys Baratheon's coup and Garon's subsequent flight from Storm's End.

Edwell sat across from his father, both deep in thought, "Borys will not be kind to us should Aelon lose."

His father grunted his agreement, "And the Buckler's will certainly want their pound of flesh. Our marriage ties to Tarth and the alliance with Eastwood might be about to bite us in the arse."

He took a moment before replying, "It is certain that Lord Brynden will answer Aelon's call. The two Houses are tied together by more than just marriage at this point. Much of Tarth's economy is dependent on Eastwood goods. But where does that leave us?"

The Elder Errol sighed, "It leaves us in a bind. If we raise our full might, we might win, or we might lose and fall further than we would otherwise."

Edwell was concerned with both options but knew where his heart was, "We are kin to House Tarth and Aelon is a close friend of mine, are you really considering doing nothing?" He nearly spat the last word.

Fury overtook his father and he barked out, "Careful boy, friends they might be, but this has the potential to see us ruined."

He refused to give in and glared right back, "Would it not also be ruinous to be known as oathbreakers?"

His father quieted at that and placed his palms over his eyes, "We are between a rock and a hard place. Lord Garon's daughter is betrothed to Jon and should we manage to win that presents an opportunity we cannot ignore. At the same time, Mya Baratheon is at Eastwood as well and we are honour bound to come to her aid."

Edwell felt rather stupid for forgetting that point but smiled as he saw his father's ambition take hold. The next few days would decide the future of House Errol. Fighting against Borys and his allies was a risk. But should they win, his father was well aware that the new regime would not look kindly upon House Errol for its previous support of House Eastwood.

On the other hand, if they fought alongside Aelon for Ser Garon, they would rise to be the single most powerful house in the Stormlands. Their alliance with Houses Eastwood and Tarth would be sealed in blood and with Jon's betrothal to the Regent's daughter, their power would be uncontested in the Stormlands for generations to come.

When word had arrived from Eastwood, his father had called his banners as a precaution. And while he was confident that they would march to support Aelon and Ser Garon, his father was a cautious man and always liked to hedge his bets.

Suddenly, the Solar's door opened in a flurry, revealing the breathless Maester, "My Lord, We have received word from Eastwood. They are urgently requesting our support. Buckler is gathering his men at Bronzegate for an assault."

The Errol sighed once more before deciding, "Unfortunately, it seems we have little choice. Houses Buckler, Fell and Trant have overreached, their support for Borys will be the end of the normal order of things but, should we win, this presents a great opportunity for us in the aftermath."

"How many men can we gather if we were to march in three days?" Adam Errol asked his son.

"A little over three thousand. Mostly footmen and archers."

"We won't be needing mounted soldiers anyways if we are defending Eastwood," said his father pensively.

Taking a deep breath he called out the words which would decide the future of the Stormlands, "We march to Eastwood. Send word to Aelon that House Errol stands with Eastwood and Ser Garon."