Stannis's messenger bowed and withdrew. Loras watched him leave, then turned to Renly. "Your Grace, are you really going?"
"Why not?" Renly smiled. "I want to see what my stubborn brother has to say."
Twenty leagues south of Storms End, a small port town.
Renly Baratheon reined in his warhorse and looked at the somewhat dilapidated tavern ahead. Dozens of soldiers stood at the tavern's entrance, their orange cloaks embroidered with the same crowned stag as his; those were Stannis's men.
He curled his lip and said to Loras beside him, "My dear brother is truly cautious. He proposed to meet me himself, yet he brought so many guards."
Loras wore his magnificent rose armor and a golden cloak, his whole being shimmering in the sunlight. He smiled and said, "Perhaps he's afraid you'll take the opportunity to kill him."
"I won't kill him." Renly dismounted and straightened his clothes. "At least not today."
Inside the tavern, the two brothers stood face to face.
The tavern had been cleared out by now, leaving only one table and a few chairs. When Renly entered with Loras and a few guards, he found that Stannis had brought only two people to wait for him.
One was Stannis's most trusted Onion Knight, Davos Seaworth, and the other was a tall man with pink cheeks and a face full of smiles. From his appearance, he seemed to be Ser Justin Massey of House Massey from the Crownlands.
Stannis was much thinner than Renly remembered, and his expression was even gloomier; it seemed he hadn't been doing well lately.
Renly stepped forward and sat in a chair, greeting him with a smile, "Long time no see, brother. You don't look very well."
Today, he wore a blue velvet doublet, his golden cloak embroidered with the crowned stag, and a gemstone-encrusted longsword hanging at his waist. His hair was meticulously groomed, making him look less like he was there for a negotiation and more like a noble lord attending a feast.
Stannis had broad shoulders and long limbs, his skin toughened like iron from prolonged exposure to the harsh sun. Although he was not yet thirty-five, he was already balding, with only a fringe of thin black hair remaining. His eyes, looking at Renly, were like two emotionless stones.
He wore a suit of plain black armor without any other decorations, forming a sharp contrast with Renly's magnificent attire. Moreover, his grey cloak was also embroidered with the Baratheon crowned stag, but this stag looked much more solemn than the one on Renly's cloak.
Stannis ignored the mockery in Renly's tone and spoke directly, "Dragonstone has been occupied by the Targaryens."
"Of course I know." Renly poured himself a cup of wine. "All of Westeros knows about it now."
"My family is also in Targaryen hands," Stannis continued. "I need your army to retake Dragonstone."
Renly laughed, his smile full of mockery. "My army? Brother, what makes you think I would give my army to you? Or are you finally willing to acknowledge me as King?"
Stannis frowned. "I didn't say I acknowledge your kingship. My proposal is that you swear fealty to me now, and I will name you my heir. I have only one daughter; after I die, the iron throne will be inherited by you."
This was the greatest sincerity he could offer now. With the fall of Dragonstone, he had lost his last foothold, and his remaining fleet was no match for the Targaryen navy. He needed Renly's army, the power of the Stormlands and The Reach.
Renly looked at him, momentarily shocked into silence. He only spoke once he had reacted, "Wait for you to die? Stannis, how much older are you than me? By the time you die, I'll be old too. What kind of condition is that?"
Stannis said, "Then what do you suggest?"
Renly sat up straight and spread his hands. "It's simple: you swear fealty to me. Once I take the iron throne, I can give you a seat on the Small Council and help you rescue your family."
Stannis's face darkened. "That's impossible. Renly, I am your older brother. According to the laws of succession, the iron throne should be mine."
"Laws of succession?" Renly stood up, looking down at him. "In Robert's will, I am the legal heir. Besides, Robert secured the iron throne with his warhammer, not laws of succession. Now that he's dead, who the throne belongs to depends on strength. I have the support of the Stormlands and The Reach, and I have fifty thousand troops. What do you have? Just your few thousand men and a few dozen broken ships?"
"You..." Stannis stood up, his fists clenched.
Davos, behind him, gently pulled his sleeve and whispered, "Your Grace, stay calm."
Stannis took a deep breath and sat back down.
Renly watched Stannis sit back down and spoke again with a smile, "Well? My proposal should be good enough for you."
"I cannot agree to such a demand."
Renly shrugged. "Then there's nothing left to talk about. If you agree, our two sides can fight a battle first; whoever wins, the other side obeys. How about it? What do you think your chances of winning are?"
Stannis did not answer Renly's words. The two brothers stared at each other in silence, the atmosphere stiff.
After a long time, Stannis stood up and led the two men behind him toward the tavern door.
"You will regret this, Renly," he said without looking back. "The Targaryens will not let any Baratheon go."
"I will take King's Landing first, then deal with the Targaryens," Renly said behind him. "When I truly sit on the iron throne, you're the one who should regret not supporting me today."
Stannis did not answer and pushed the door open to leave.
Renly watched his back, the smile on his face slowly fading.
"He doesn't look like the type to let things rest," Loras said, walking to his side and leaning against him.
"I know." Renly sighed and gently patted Loras's back. "He can't stir up much of a storm right now anyway."
This meeting ended on a sour note, but Renly and his party decided to rest in the small town for the night. He needed to vent the frustration in his heart today, and the object of that venting was, naturally, his handsome Knight of Flowers, Loras.
At noon the next day, just before Renly and the others were about to leave, news arrived from Ser Cortnay Penrose, the castellan of Storms End. Stannis's fleet, which had originally besieged the outskirts of Storms End, had withdrawn last night, and from the direction they left, they seemed to be heading for Dragonstone.
By the time Renly and his party returned to the main army camp, it was already the evening of the third day. Renly urgently summoned his lords for a meeting.
"Stannis is gone," he said in a relaxed tone. "He took the fleet besieging Storms End and went to retake Dragonstone, overestimating his own strength."
Lord Mace secretly breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Then can we head north now?"
Renly nodded. "Yes, we'll take King's Landing first."
Loras stood up excitedly. "Your Grace, I want to lead the first assault for you."
But just as the discussion was proceeding joyfully, a raven from Blackwater Bay arrived.
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