Chapter 310: Purge

From a young age, Titus Peake had felt the stirrings of a murderous desire in his veins.

Perhaps it stemmed from resentment over the Peake family's decline. Or perhaps it was merely a reflection of the darkness within him.

Now, as chaos engulfed the Seven Kingdoms, Peake's long-suppressed urges surged to the surface. He craved bloodshed, the rush of combat, and the chance to restore his family's former glory.

When Caesar appointed him as the vanguard commander and promised Highgarden to House Peake, Titus felt his bloodlust boiling.

Looking at the alabaster castle perched on the high hill ahead, Peake swore he could already smell blood in the air.

At that moment, Highgarden's gates were wide open, and panicked civilians fled in every direction.

The castle's residents, already scarred by the chaos of the Stag Faction rebellion and the Ironborn invasions, were gripped by fear. Rumors of the advancing army had plunged Highgarden into chaos.

With Mace Tyrell fleeing, Lady Olenna dead, and Garth Tyrell orchestrating a ruthless purge, Highgarden was already shrouded in turmoil and bloodshed when Peake arrived.

"Armon, take the cavalry and hunt down the Tyrell fugitives," Peake commanded, his voice ringing with authority. "The rest of you, with me! Into the castle!"

---

"Are we there yet?"

Mace Tyrell asked, sweat dripping from his face.

Hours of riding had left the bloated man gasping for air. The saddle beneath him felt like a searing hot iron pressing into his flesh.

"Just a little further, my lord," Garrett Flowers replied patiently.

"Which dock did you choose?" Mace grumbled. "Why is it so far?"

"It has to be remote to avoid the army's scouts," Garrett explained. Seeing Mace's obvious discomfort, he suggested, "Perhaps we should rest for a moment?"

But Mace shook his head vigorously.

"No, no, keep going! We must hurry!"

He shifted awkwardly in his saddle, gripping the horse's neck and sticking his rear up in a comically undignified posture.

Garrett stifled a laugh. "As you wish, my lord."

After several more hours of travel, the group finally arrived at a nearly abandoned dock on the banks of the Mander River.

There was no one in sight—no boatmen, no ships. Only a few crabs scuttled across the rocky shore.

With the help of his guards, Mace dismounted with great difficulty. Surveying the desolate area, he began to feel uneasy.

"Garrett," he asked suspiciously, "where's the boat?"

"It'll be here soon," Garrett replied, though his gaze wasn't on the river but the sky.

Mace hadn't yet realized the danger. He lay sprawled on a large rock, trying to catch his breath under the blazing midday sun.

"My lord," Garrett said, his voice calm, "our transport has arrived."

Mace struggled to sit up, scanning the horizon for a ship, but he saw nothing.

"Where is it? I don't see—"

A loud whooshing noise interrupted him. Mace looked up just in time to see the silhouette of a massive white dragon descending from the sky.

"Dragon!" Mace screamed, his heart skipping several beats.

As the dragon's shadow fell over him, he finally understood the betrayal. Turning to Garrett, whose face remained impassive, Mace bellowed, "Traitor!" and began to run.

Garrett made no move to stop him, watching with a faint smirk as the bloated lord stumbled away.

The white dragon landed before Mace, its enormous wings stirring up a whirlwind of dust and smoke.

"C-Caesar… no, I mean, Your Grace… my son-in-law!" Mace stammered, trembling under the dragon's piercing red gaze.

He collapsed to the ground, sobbing.

"I didn't mean to harm you! It was all my mother's doing! She forced me!"

"Enough, Mace," Samwell said from atop the dragon. "I won't kill you."

"Really?" Mace asked, hope flickering in his eyes.

"Really." Samwell smiled kindly. "After all, you're my beloved father-in-law."

---

"Where is Mace?"

Titus Peake demanded, storming into Highgarden's main hall with a bloodstained sword in hand.

Across the room, Garth Tyrell stood with an unreadable expression. "Lord Peake, if you promise not to harm him, I'll take you to him."

Peake hesitated, surprised that Mace might still be in the castle. He quickly nodded and swore,

"I wouldn't dream of harming Lord Mace. He's my liege lord, after all. My only mission here is to rid him of those treacherous Stag's loyalists."

Garth appeared to accept this and gestured for Peake to follow him.

The two men left the main hall, winding through increasingly deserted corridors.

"Where are we going?" Peake asked, frowning.

"The dungeons."

"The dungeons?" Peake was taken aback but quickly rationalized it. "Hiding Mace there? Clever idea."

Garth remained silent.

Peake, however, was in a talkative mood. "You made the right choice, Garth. Siding with the winning team will secure your future. After this, you might even earn a castle of your own."

"I've never aspired to own a castle," Garth replied coolly. "I only hope fewer lives are lost."

"You've certainly shed enough blood yourself," Peake teased. "It's clear you hate those Stag traitors as much as I do. They're the ones who ruined the Reach, after all."

Garth said nothing, leading Peake to the dungeon's entrance. He stepped inside first, with Peake following close behind.

As the heavy iron door slammed shut behind them, darkness engulfed the chamber.

Peake blinked, his eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light. Suddenly, a figure charged at him with a sword gleaming in the faint glow.

"What are you doing?!" Peake roared as the blade pierced his shoulder.

"For the Reach!" another figure cried, rushing forward with a second strike.

Peake cursed and tried to raise his own weapon, but the pain in his shoulder made it impossible to lift.

The next blow plunged into his stomach.

With a scream of agony, Peake fell to his knees, blood pooling beneath him.

Behind him, Garth moved in close, whispering as he plunged a dagger into Peake's back:

"This is the fate of traitors."

Peake's vision blurred, his mind struggling to comprehend the betrayal.

He couldn't understand why Garth and his men dared to kill him?

There was a large army of his outside. If these people killed him, did they not want to live anymore?

Pain swept through his body. Titus Peake knelt on the ground, struggling and roaring:

"You… you'll pay for this!" he spat through gritted teeth. "The army will avenge me!"

Garth knelt beside him, his voice icy:

"Peake, you still don't understand, do you? Do you know who truly ordered your death? Some games shouldn't be played."

Peake froze, the realization crashing over him like a tidal wave.

In his final moments, as the darkness closed in, one image lingered in his mind: Caesar, raising a wine glass and smiling at him.

So, it was him…

(End of Chapter)