Robert 6

The clattering of hooves and the shouting of men heralded the arrival of Lord Tarly and his scouts, their return accompanying the early morning sun as he road to greet them at the edge of the camp.

"Your Grace," The reach-lord greeted, smiling broadly at the head of his column, a smile that Robert was happy to boisterous return. "We have returned, and with news of the enemy's movements in hand."

"Excellent, excellent," Robert chuckled, "Come then, I'll hear it with the rest of the war council."

"Indeed your grace, though I would suggest you order the camp to begin limbering beforehand, they have left Myr."

"Ah," Robert nodded, they would need to move quickly then, so as to ensure they found the most favorable ground. "Well you heard the man, send the order out to pack up. We move to battle."

The men quickly made way for the king and the great lord as they made their way to the command tent, and Robert tried to suppress the burning desire in his stomach to question the man until they were in a more secure environment.

Nary a second past once they were in the command tent before he could hold his tongue no longer. There was just too much of an itch now, the dragon had left his den.

"Where have they gone then? Do you have a direction? Are they making for any specific ground?"

If Lord Tarly was at all surprised by the outburst, it didn't show on his face, instead, he answered calmly, nodding his head.

"They seem to be coming in out direction your majesty, I estimate they would reach this area around evening if we do not engage them in the field."

Robert felt a thrill go through him, the Dragon was making his work easy then. He would choose the ground. "Then we must reposition to receive them. The valley to the south seems sensible."

"Perhaps we should wait for the war council, your grace?"

Robert paused at the cautioning words but finally shook his head. "There isn't time for that if we want to set up in the best possible position." Robert gestured towards the southern edge of the tent. "I want to secure our left flank in the palm forest we saw from the ridge yesterday evening, that's at least ten miles afoot, and we don't want the men exhausted when we get there. In fact…" he reached a hand out to the Lord's shoulder, a gesture of intimacy that made the man visibly uncomfortable.

'Well too bad for him.'

"I'm going to ride out with my retinue and survey the ground. You can report to the council the direction we'll be moving."

"..." whatever Tarly wanted to say, he held his tongue, before bowing sharply. "Yes your Grace, I will do as you ask."

"Good" Robert chuckled, feeling the vigor of the night before still surging through him. "I shall depart then, as soon as I am armored. I expect you to follow with the army as soon as can reasonably be managed."

Robert barely had time to hear the man's affirmative response as he left the command tent, making for his own personal lodging afoot to go wake up his exhausted squire.

"Justin." He shouted, half laughing to himself. "Justin, you need to be up and at it again, I need my armor on, we are going to smash the bloody dragons today and I don't feel like fighting in my bloody royal underclothes."

Even as the squire got to his work, putting the plate harness on over his body, Robert's mind was racing. There was so much to do… He needed to see the field, there were streams if he remembered right, they'd be a bloody pit to fight in but they could halt the enemy charge well enough, and his left flank could be anchored in the palm forest, maybe with Yohn Royce and his archer setting am ambush within, yes he could see it already. He would lead the Right, he thought, with most of the cavalry, and keep that flank secured as well, while Ned could lead the center with his infantry. Streams and Stakes would keep the enemy cavalry off of him. Renly and the baggage train could be set on the hill behind.

Yes, he could see it in his mind's eye already. Viserys would be with the cavalry of course and denied other options would be forced to come for him.

Well, that wasn't a surety, but if the boy was like his brother than it would be true.

As he felt the cloth of his gauntlets lock over his hands and wiggled his fingers through them, he smiled.

There was nothing quite like the feeling of invulnerability one got when wearing a full suit of armor. Reaching for his hammer, he stopped for a moment, before his eyes drifted to its right.

Hidden within its scabbard sat the ancient Valyrian blade that his brother had given him, a weapon to make up for the lack of such a blade in House Baratheon.

In truth, he didn't care for it much. It was sharp certainly, and with a good blow it could cut through shields or armor, but it was still a sword and not his preferred tool of battle.

Still, the rumors said that the last dragon had a flaming sword, and Robert Baratheon was no fool to think that mortal steel would fare better against his sorcerer, reaching down, he tied the blade in its scabbard to his belt. He would carry the thing at least, lest he find that his hammer avail him naught against the Dragon's damnable sorcery.

Finally, he took from Justin's hands his helmet, a heavy thing that covered his face, with a beaklike cone and a golden crown wrapped about its top, and the great steel antlers projected from its sides that marked him as a member of House Baratheon, and would make it difficult for any normal man to wear.

He was not a normal man, no, not as he took up his hammer and shield, tying the latter to a loop on his right side, opposite his sword, and stepping forth from the tent, Justin behind.

'Yes,' he smiled, turning towards the rising sun in the far distance. 'This is a good day for war.'