Massey's Hook was a long, narrow stretch of land that had to be rounded when sailing to King's Landing from the southern sea. Sharp Point lay at the end of Massey's Hook.
Massey's Hook and Crackclaw Point flanked Blackwater Bay to the south and north. Control them, along with Dragonstone and Driftmark at the mouth of the bay, and King's Landing would gradually become an isolated island caught in a tiger's jaws.
Inside the long hall of Sharp Point Castle, torches burned bright. High on the stone walls hung Gendry's golden quartered banner, followed by the banners of House Bar Emmon of Sharp Point and House Massey of Stonedance. House Bar Emmon's banner was a leaping blue swordfish over a silver fretty pattern on white, while House Massey's was a triple spiral of red, green, and blue on white.
Massey's Hook was too narrow to hold many powers, and these were its only two major noble houses. They belonged to the Crownlands, but lay closer to Dragonstone and were naturally closer to Great Lord Stannis.
Clang!
Charcoal radiated heat from the iron brazier in the room. Gendry drew Orphan-Maker and stirred the coals with it, sending sparks flying from the burning charcoal. It was probably the most expensive pair of fire tongs in the world.
The Valyrian steel blade was dark as smoke, with the distinctive ripples of Valyrian steel. Even under flame, the metal did not change at all.
"It thirsts for blood," Gendry told the others. Orphan-Maker had a fearsome name, and in his hands, it would create even more slaughter.
"The legends were right. No ordinary fire, not even dragonfire, can damage Valyrian steel," Lord Duram Bar Emmon said. Though he bore the title of Lord, he was only a plump, frail boy of fourteen.
"Oh, enough, Duram. Look at you, acting as if you've never seen the world," Ser Justin Massey said. "Valyrian steel is priceless. What is a little fire to it? When Aegon the Conqueror grew old, died, and was cremated, Blackfyre was burned with him as a burial offering. In the flames kindled by dragonfire, Blackfyre came out untouched, except for its color growing a little darker."
Ser Justin was a knight with soft limbs and a sturdy, full body. He often wore a smile, and his hair was a tousled mess.
"Valyrian steel carries the scent of magic, unchanged since ancient times. That is why ordinary flame cannot harm it in the slightest, and even dragonfire would struggle to do so. A pity the craft has been lost. Now one can only trade sword for sword," the red priestess said, looking at the black sword Orphan-Maker in Gendry's hand.
And there is Tobho, my smithing master in King's Landing, Gendry thought. Is that man truly only an ordinary smith? Gendry was not sure. The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. The craft of making Valyrian steel had been lost after the Doom of ancient Valyria. Today, only the great weaponsmiths of Qohor still knew how to reforge it.
"Lady Melisandre, can you find any trace of Blackfyre and Dark Sister?" Gendry asked the red priestess. He was very interested in those two swords. He now had the Valyrian steel longsword Orphan-Maker, the Valyrian steel arakh Storm, and a double-curved dragonbone longbow, but the more extraordinary weapons, the better.
Among the famous swords of Westeros, Blackfyre was the most renowned, followed by Dark Sister. Many believed Blackfyre had extraordinary significance, for the sword symbolized royal authority. Dark Sister's long, slender blade had been made to suit a woman, though later many warriors had wielded the slim sword as well.
"I am sorry, Prince. I see no trace of those swords in my sacred fire. They have been lost too long. If you were willing to let me burn down the sept, the Lord of Light would grant me greater blessings, and perhaps I could try," the red priestess replied with interest.
"Forget it, Melisandre. I cannot lose an entire forest just because I admire you," Gendry told her. Gendry did not believe in any god at all. The Seven and the Old Gods simply had vast followings, making them more valuable to win over. The Lord of Light was too extreme. Letting him in would be like unleashing a flood and a beast.
"I regret that, but you will one day understand the power of the Lord of Light," the red priestess said.
"Prince Gendry, I once served your father, the late King Robert, as a squire. Like him, I thirst for victory. Let me have the honor of taking the vanguard," Ser Justin requested. Whether he was truly brave or simply trying to show himself before the red priestess, no one could say.
Gendry glanced at him. In build, Justin seemed to have grown round and stout like King Robert, and he was said to have caught Robert's appetite for women as well.
"I will command the land army myself. I will lead the vanguard first. Once the main army arrives, I will command the whole force." Gendry sheathed Orphan-Maker.
"Yes, Prince." Ser Justin nodded with a beaming smile. "That is how war should be fought. Rather than sitting in the center like Great Lord Stannis, I would much rather charge with you."
Stannis Baratheon, Tywin Lannister, and Eddard Stark all belonged among the calculating commanders. Tywin directed the main reserve from the rear, and Stannis was not famed for superhuman valor. By contrast, King Robert was the very image of a bold commander. Knights actually admired this kind of headlong, reckless fighting more. Gendry, however, chose both hardness and flexibility. He was doing the work of Robert, Eddard, and Jon Arryn all by himself.
"Before the vanguard moves, make sure the people of the Kingswood are pacified," Gendry told Lord Duram and Ser Justin. "I will give the common folk the right to cut timber in the Kingswood and hunt a few deer. Skilled hunters who know the terrain must be put to good use. At the same time, soldiers must pay for anything they take from civilians. Anyone who violates that will be dealt with by military law. The Imp will certainly loose his wildlings. We need a strategy to answer them. Anyone who hunts them down will be paid. If the Imp's pets dare come, I will make sure not one of them leaves."
"As you command!"
"As you command!"
A man's name cast a shadow like a tree. Gendry had fought from east to west, from Magister of the Twin Cities to Dothraki horselord to the Kingslayer. These knights were eager to serve under his command. This was the authority victory brought. The more one won, the brighter the halo.
Ser Barristan looked at Gendry. These methods were very familiar. "Prince, how do you know these? They were used long ago by the Sword of the Morning against the Kingswood Brotherhood."
"Ser Barristan, have you forgotten the Fletcher? Fletcher Dick was the archery master of both Anguy and me, and he was a fish that slipped through the Kingswood Brotherhood's net." Gendry smiled at Ser Barristan. The solution had already been laid out for him. All he had to do was copy the answer. The Imp's wildling pets might be fierce, but they certainly did not know the terrain as well as the locals. "I studied archery under him once, and I heard the story of the Kingswood Brotherhood's destruction many times."
"I see." Ser Barristan nodded. The Fletcher was a remnant of an earlier age. He had never expected the man to have lived until now. The old memories rose vividly before Ser Barristan's eyes.
In the Kingswood, the Kingswood Brotherhood had kidnapped nobles for ransom and used the forest to evade pursuing knights. For a time, the Brotherhood received help and shelter from the smallfolk of the Kingswood, because the people believed only the Brotherhood could protect them. The Mad King sent men to exterminate them several times, but all failed. Then Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, found the solution. He spoke to King Aerys on behalf of the people, and after a series of conciliatory measures, the common folk all turned back to the king.
"For a swordsman as great as the Sword of the Morning to be killed by a second-rate fighter like Great Lord Eddard is truly surprising. Hard to believe," Ser Justin said, curling his lip.
"The Sword of the Morning was indeed extraordinary, far greater than Great Lord Eddard. But as for what happened back then, we do not know the secrets behind it," Ser Barristan replied. The greatest of them all, Ser Arthur Dayne, had carried a sword named Dawn, forged from the heart of a fallen star. Men honored him as the Sword of the Morning, yet he had died in confusion at Eddard's hands. Strange indeed.
Late that night, the red priestess knocked on the door, intending to enter Gendry's room.
"Prince, it is Lady Melisandre," Ser Barristan said.
"Let her in," Gendry ordered.
"Yes."
Then the lovely figure of the red priestess appeared. Lady Melisandre entered the bedchamber, the fiery red gem at her throat setting off her pale skin. Her charm was unlike anyone else's. Young, full, and strangely beautiful, with a heart-shaped face, copper-red hair, and mysterious red eyes.
"Prince, forgive my presumption."
"It is not really presumption, my lady. You are someone I value. If you did not keep the Lord of Light on your lips so often, you would be even more welcome," Gendry said.
"The victory in the land battle for King's Landing should originally have belonged to Lord Stannis. He once imagined it boldly," the red priestess said. "Lord Stannis believed that when Balon Greyjoy first rose in rebellion, he defeated the ironborn in the sea battle they prided themselves on most. An attack on King's Landing would be a land battle. He meant to win by surprise, defeat the Imp king and the usurper Queen Dowager, and then he would be the one true king of the Seven Kingdoms. But..."
"But now I am the one who will win this victory. I am the one directing this war." Gendry looked at the red priestess. After Stannis bent the knee, the red priestess had to serve him as well.
"It is you, Prince," the red priestess said bitterly. "You are the Undecided One, beyond the Lord of Light's prophecy."
"You should wear something warmer," Gendry said to the red priestess.
"Faith is enough to warm me," the red priestess said, unconcerned. Her graceful figure was a lure in itself.
Gendry tightened his grip on Orphan-Maker. The cold touch of the black sword seemed to blunt the red priestess's allure.
"It seems your prophecies do fail sometimes."
The red priestess opened Gendry's palm. "I have looked into the sacred fire and begged the Lord of Light for guidance. The sacred fire reveals truth, Gendry. Through the sacred fire, I can see through stone and earth, into the darkest secrets of men's souls. Dead kings, unborn children, if I wish to commune, there is nowhere I cannot reach. Years flow and seasons turn, and if I wish to travel, I can reach the end."
"There are no lies in the flames?"
"None... but we priests are mortal, after all. We may misread, or mistake cause for effect."
Gendry nodded. The red priestess's prophecies were indeed effective, though at times they were too vague, and the images were not always precise. But that was enough. In this day and age, having someone with magical talent was no easy thing.
Gendry touched the red priestess's arm. Even through her outer robe, he could feel the heat.
"You are a little like a dragon," Gendry said to the red priestess. "Very hot."
"Then I can give you a better experience," the red priestess said, smiling at Gendry. "I have never seen a body like yours, so strong and beautiful, filled with fire and power."
"Enough. Let us speak of serious matters." Gendry looked at the red priestess. "I am going to sweep the Kingswood. See if you can learn when and where my enemies will hide."
"R'hllor shows us only what he is willing to reveal, but I will watch for what you have said." Melisandre's red lips curved into a faint smile. "I cannot see you in the sacred fire, Storm, yet the age has truly changed because of you. Strange man."
"I can help you even more," the red priestess promised, her warm breath spilling out. "Prince Gendry, do I make you nervous?"
"A little, my lady. Do you want to help me more?" Gendry asked her.
"I want to offer the Lord of Light more sacrifices in exchange for greater power," the red priestess said softly. "Or your blood, the power of the Storm."
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