Chapter 88 85

The Vale. Runestone. 298 AC.

Ser Robar Royce.

Runestone, one of the oldest castles in Westeros, carried a history to match. This fortress had served as the seat and stronghold of House Royce for a thousand years. Its halls had known the days of King Yorwyck Royce, who won several meaningful victories against the Andals, and of King Robar Royce, the last Bronze King. They had witnessed mighty dragons and the kings of House Targaryen. Hundreds of generations of Royces had lived within these walls, each leaving a piece of their story here, and hundreds more would live here still.

"Underground passages? What are you talking about, Robar?" I knew my brother well, and his attempt to play innocent did not convince me for a moment.

"Stop pretending. You can lie to anyone you like, but not to me. Our ancestors were a paranoid lot, and the dragons pushed that to new heights."

A curious, unspoken fact: when the Targaryens came to Westeros, most of the great lords hastily set about modernizing their castles. Secret ways were dug, flammable materials replaced with ones that would not catch, underground passages built. People did everything they could to keep their families from sharing the fate of the Hoares of Harrenhal. Aegon the Conqueror burned thousands of people alive inside their own castle, with no means of escape. In a single moment a powerful dynasty of kings ceased to exist.

During the years of the so-called union between Lady Rhea Royce and Prince Daemon Targaryen, that paranoia reached new heights. Daemon Targaryen was known for his recklessness and self-absorption, and he was perfectly capable of burning down the wife he despised's castle on a whim. The Royces understood this, and in the interest of safety greatly expanded the existing network of tunnels.

"Let us say you are right." Andar saw the futility of holding out and stopped denying it. "What do you need them for?"

"Stannis Baratheon's situation is already bad. I want to make it worse." My brother let out a short laugh.

"Robar, understand me. The passages are a family secret, and sharing them with outsiders can have consequences." His frown told me he meant it. He was the future Lord Royce and would not give away the house's secrets.

"I am asking for information about one passage only, for thirty of our own guardsmen." I understood my brother's position and shared it. Axel was kin to us, but he was not a Royce and had no claim to our secrets.

"Which one?" Andar asked, his tone warming slightly.

"This one." I pointed to a patch of woodland on the map. "Taking into account the terrain and the position of the enemy forces, I concluded that their supply stores are somewhere around here." My brother studied the map with interest.

"The Bronze Wood," Andar observed, stating the obvious. "Are you certain of this?"

"They have ringed the wood tightly. I am looking for a tunnel that comes out either at the edge of the trees or, ideally, somewhere near the center."

I understood my brother's concern. A tunnel was not only an opportunity but a risk. If things went wrong, there was every chance Stannis would seize a passage leading straight into the heart of Royce territory. The soldiers could collapse the tunnel, but that would still be an unpleasant loss. Yes, the risk of failure was real. But it was a risk worth taking.

"Very well. Sam will take you there."

...

Lord Axel Arryn.

To put an end to this rebellion, Ser Brynden Tully and Ser Lyn Corbray had to die. Lord Uthor Tollett and Gerion and Gerold Grafton were already dead, and if those two names were added to the list, the rebels would have no commanders of any real standing left, no one capable of raising a proper army for my brother.

Brynden Tully and his army would be pressing hard to reach Stannis. That would interfere with my plans, which was why Desmond's army was marching out to intercept the Blackfish. Since Andar had prepared the defenses of the Royce domain, it was possible to free up part of the force for other uses. With the Melcolms' support, Robar had been able to release two thousand men and transfer them to Desmond's command. At the height of the battle between Brynden and Desmond, I would strike the rebels from the rear, kill the Blackfish, and put an end to this stupid revolt.

"Three hundred riders coming to meet us." A scout reported it while we were still moving.

Why send them here? Brynden must know our numbers. Three hundred was not many; in an open fight we would cut through them without trouble, but it would cost us time. So he wanted to delay us. But why? He should have no knowledge of Desmond's army, and yet he sent men here. Did he suspect something? If so, why not lay a more effective ambush? He had the time for it. We needed to deal with these riders as quickly as possible. Jasper Redfort wanted a battle? Here was a relatively clean one.

"Ser Jasper, take your men and hit their left flank once the fighting starts." He gave a nod and led his riders to their positions.

No matter. We would cut them down and ride on.

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