A Book of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones : Magic Network

"Summon all lords to council."

May the Gods be with us.

Three nights passed before Hot Pie finally witnessed a great commotion within Bronzegate.

Hot Pie could scarcely contain his excitement as he adjusted the viewpoint of the screen, swiftly moving to capture Renly in the image.

Such opportunities were rare indeed.

The Security Bureau had issued clear instructions for this situation: observation angles of personnel monitoring the same target must not overlap, lest vital information be missed.

In other words, security officers were forced to compete for positions.

These past days, Hot Pie had felt the cruelty of this rule keenly.

Nearly every time he found a suitable vantage, his swifter and more vigilant colleagues had already claimed it, leaving him to choose secondary positions from which to gather intelligence.

As a result, the information Hot Pie reported was invariably more delayed, one-sided, or less significant than that of his fellow officers.

His task ranking had consequently fallen to among the lowest.

Hot Pie had resolved to remain at Renly's side day and night, waiting for the moment when the false king, amid his feasts and leisure, would finally turn his mind to matters of state.

Now, his patience had at last borne fruit.

He moved the screen's viewpoint behind the usurper Renly as quickly as possible, then immediately sent a confirmation signal.

Only then did Hot Pie allow himself to relax completely.

Once a confirmation signal was sent, a semi-transparent figure would appear on the screens of all security officers at the position where the signal originated, warning them to choose other positions for their reconnaissance.

This design maximized the completeness and detail of the Security Bureau's intelligence.

For the security officers, however, it proved a mixed blessing. With differing observation positions, the scenes each could witness naturally varied, inevitably affecting the intelligence they gathered.

Those who secured advantageous positions were pleased, while those dissatisfied with their posts dared not abandon their mission and were forced to accept their ill fortune.

Hot Pie knew that his position today was surely the most favorable.

He could not squander the good fortune the Gods had bestowed upon him.

Hot Pie scrutinized everything on the screen with meticulous care.

Within the span of a few breaths, more than a hundred semi-transparent figures appeared on his screen, distributed throughout every corner of the hall.

Under the watchful gaze of hundreds of eyes, the Earls and generals of Bronzegate entered the hall one by one.

...

The war council convened in the great hall of Bronzegate.

Seated in the highest position was the self-proclaimed legitimate monarch of the Seven Kingdoms, King Renly Baratheon, First of His Name.

The vassals of Storm's End sat at long tables on either side of the high platform, engaged in fierce discourse—or rather, in heated argument.

Unlike previous gatherings filled with merriment and accord, this time the nobles either roared in anger, cursed loudly, reasoned coldly, cajoled and deceived, jested darkly, bargained shamelessly, pounded the table with winecups, or issued thinly veiled threats.

They debated whether victory lay within their grasp or some terrifying, unknown monster awaited them.

Renly sat in silence, listening intently.

He understood why the atmosphere of this war council differed so markedly from those past.

Ravens and scouts from the North had brought the latest tidings—news of King's Landing, the Iron Throne, and lands farther north.

Could such news be trusted?

Renly had little cause to doubt it; those who brought word had no reason to risk their lives through betrayal or falsehood. Yet the content of these new reports was so incredible that one could not help but harbor misgivings.

Previous intelligence had been largely ordinary and favorable.

Though Northern forces gathered, they showed no sign of marching south.

Duke Tywin remained far away in Casterly Rock.

Kevan Lannister led a mere 20,000 men to assume command of the forces provided by the Vale and the Riverlands at Harrenhal.

The Iron Islands continued their silent watch.

King's Landing had endured blockade since the end of June, with those entering and leaving the city subject to rigorous examination. Reliable information had grown scarce, while deliberately released rumors multiplied.

Yet much intelligence could still be gleaned from folk in the Crownlands and beyond the city walls.

The forces mustered by Crownland vassals were easily estimated—with the new recruits in King's Landing, they numbered no more than 10,000 or 20,000 at most.

People from Wendwater and Massey's Hook had flooded into King's Landing, nearly doubling the city's population. Its food supply depended heavily upon the Vale and the Riverlands, and the situation regarding other materials was surely similar.

Joffrey had grown even more arrogant and conceited.

He preached of the world's end, falsely claiming to be a divine emissary, renaming the Faith as the "Gospel Department," establishing Sunday as the Sabbath, changing the symbol of the Seven Gods to a six-pointed star, and even stamping it upon newly minted copper coins.

Nor did his madness end there.

He dispatched men to spread what he called divine grace and divine will, fabricating miracles at his coronation.

What giants tall as hills? What cold god called the Other? What Holy Warrior Army? Clearly, these were mere tricks to frighten children and deceive the smallfolk.

And then there was this "Holy City" and the murdered septon.

Joffrey had used these as pretexts to send troops to plunder the entire city, sparing neither the industries of lords nor those of free trading city-states. Had Joffrey lost his wits entirely, or had all the ministers of the Red Keep descended into collective madness?

Renly failed to comprehend it, yet he rejoiced to see it happen.

The more such tidings reached him, the more confidence Renly placed in his campaign to reclaim the Iron Throne.

But...

Renly surveyed the quarreling crowd below.

Who could have foreseen that after merely three days in Bronzegate, the information would transform completely, and the weak, deranged enemy would become a terrifying, magical beast?

Had the previous intelligence been a carefully crafted trap laid by the foe, or was it the new information that now...?

Renly finally spoke his first words of the council.

"Joffrey is no king. How could the Gods bless such a degenerate bloodline?"

Every voice in the hall fell silent at once as all eyes turned to their king.

"Your Grace, he is but a madman, like Aerys the Second."

Bryce Caron, Earl of Nightsong, wore an expression of arrogance and confidence. "Sending a mere 200 men to fight at Massey's Hook—can an army called 'Holy Warriors' be worth 2,000 knights? Only a madman would attempt such folly!"

"By my reckoning, my bastard brother Rolland Storm is likely penning glad tidings to Your Grace even now."

Earl Caron struck his chest in assurance. "The Lannisters' 200 men shall surely be annihilated, and Beric Dondarrion, who betrayed his rightful king and liege lord, shall be brought before Your Grace to face judgment!"

Casper Wylde, Earl of Rain House, remained troubled.

"It is not only Lannisters who have witnessed these men wield flames and healing powers, but many trustworthy folk as well."

The blockade of King's Landing had suddenly grown far less stringent.

Thus, Bronzegate learned from many mouths terrible accounts never before received.

The Holy Warrior Army's flames, wounds that healed instantly when implanting the so-called "Divine Grace Core," and the uniformly described coronation miracles.

Renly observed each lord with gentle eyes.

Lister Morrigen, Earl of Crow's Nest, clearly shared Earl Wylde's assessment.

Hugh Grandison, Earl of Grandview, looked on with disdain.

Haywood Fell, Earl of Felwood, maintained a calm demeanor, yet Renly discerned the anxiety that lurked within his heart.

Morale wavered dangerously.

Renly could not rebuke them; did he not hesitate himself?

The time for action had come.

Renly drew his sword. "Order the forces at Massey's Hook to return to defensive positions. The entire army shall break camp on the morrow and march west along the Felwood and Greenhaven line to Bitterbridge."

The earls rose as one and bowed. "Yes, Your Grace."

On the other side of the realm, Hot Pie noted with satisfaction that tomorrow was Sunday. He resolved to visit the Great Sept of Baelor to worship and thank the Gods for his good fortune.

The new idols should have been completed by then.

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