Interlude: The Battle of Storms End

Stannis Baratheon had come ashore at Orangeport, a smaller port in the Lands of House Bolling just north of Shipbreaker Bay. One of the few ports in the Stormlands capable of taking large vessels and one of four that were currently under Stannis' Control, it was the closest port to Storm's End with the fastest route to his prize that Stannis could see. It took him only a single day to march down the dirt road from Orangeport to Storm's End with his forces and one other day to dig in around the Castle, cutting it off from the rest of the Stormlands by making his siege lines cut across the base of Durran's Point, the promontory that jutted out over the sea on which the Castle stood.

Unlike most castles in Westeros, Storms' End's location, on a fairly narrow promontory overlooking Shipbreaker Bay, along with the lack of safe anchorage within the bay itself, meant that it had no accompanying castle town. Durran Godsgrief had the Castle Built entirely for defense. Mind you, the fatal flaw of the design was that doing so meant that the Castle had to rely on outlying towns and settlements for food. However, the potent defenses of the Castle were such that ballistae would take years to knock through the walls and they were well-fortified enough that it would be suicide to storm them.

That was why general wisdom had always insisted that to take Storm's End by siege, you would have to starve it out, rather than try and form breaches or assault with ladders. It was what Mace Tyrell had tried to do during the Rebellion and was what Stannis would have tried had he not had the artillery that Lord Seawynd had innovated. Now, the formidable curtain wall was a liability, rather than a defense.

Stannis' siege lines had taken two days to prepare, and in that time he had heard of the surrenders of both Brownhollow in Cracklaw Point and Duskendale in the Crownlands. His Vassals had been largely doing the work for him. No longer, though. Now, Stannis would make his own entry into the war personally. And he would do it by seizing control of his ancestral castle.

As the fourth day of the Siege of Storm's End dawned, it did so with fire, thunder, and smoke. The siege bombards of Stannis' Forces roaring fire as surely as any Dragon of Old had. By noon two days later, multiple breaches had been formed in the walls of Storms End. As Stannis was preparing forces to assault, however, a Horn Blast blew in the distance as the banners of Baratheon of Storm's End and Tyrell could be seen on the Horizon, along with a dust cloud so large it practically blotted out the noonday sun.

Renly had come, and with him had brought the entire knightly cavalry of the Reach. . .

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Renly had dallied. Oh for certain, he'd raised his own revolt and gathered his forces, after all, who would follow his Older Brother to the Throne? Nobody liked Stannis' Company, after all, and a King had to be likable, or so Loras had convinced him. He had, however, been so assured of that fact by Loras and his new Queen, Margaery, that he'd done what Mace Tyrell before him had, stopping along the road to Storms' End to feast at multiple points in order to maximize morale.

Unfortunately, just like it had during the Rebellion, it had given Stannis time. Only this time, Stannis wasn't commanding a Skeleton Garrison fixed behind defenses with very little in the way of provisions. This time, Stannis had thirty-thousand men, plus ships and artillery, or so Lord Tarly's Scouts had said.

That had been alarming enough, but when word had come in that Lord Seawynd had declared for Stannis and that he had taken territory in Cracklaw Point while his Wife had commanded a force that had taken control of Duskendale, that had been even worse. Renly had been at Blackhaven when he'd heard that and realized that his window for the Kingship was rapidly closing.

Unfortunately, his Infantry and Artillery would slow any advance, and given what Renly knew of Lord Seawynd's Artillery, how it was more effective than the stuff being produced in Oldtown, Lannisport, King's Landing, and Elsewhere, he wouldn't have long before Storm's End fell. He'd had two choices before him, move ahead of the infantry and artillery with his Cavalry and charge straight into Stannis' forces, or allow his older brother to take control of Storm's End and move right for King's Landing.

The latter choice had been advocated for by his new Goodfather. Mace Tyrell had insisted that taking command of the Capital would render any gains that Stannis made temporary. Unfortunately, while Renly was an indifferent tactician, he was a masterful politician. He knew that the Stormlanders who had remained Loyal to him over Stannis would see such a move as weakness and abandon him for his brother, leaving him totally dependent on the Reach. While Renly did not believe that Loras, or even his new Wife would seek to aggrandize themselves at his expense in such an arrangement, Mace Tyrell was another matter, as was the Queen of Thorns.

That was why Renly had wound up choosing the former option, moving ahead with the Cavalry. It wasn't a bad option, mind you. While he only had five-thousand or so Stormlands Cavalry, the bulk of his Stormlands Forces being infantry, the Reach had five times that number of Cavalry. As he moved ahead of his slower infantry and artillery, Renly would have equal numbers to Stannis.

As noon of the sixth day of his Campaign arrived, Renly realized that he'd made the correct decision. The walls of the ancestral Baratheon Seat had been blasted through at multiple points by artillery and Stannis was on the verge of assaulting a Castle that had previously been thought of as impregnable. He had arrived just in time.

As his forces drew up for battle, he watched as Stannis was forced to abandon his assault plans to draw up on the field opposite him. Renly was relieved his arrival was on time. Now he simply had to win the battle. If he could capture Stannis, then he would have gotten one obstacle out of the way easily. After that, Tywin Lannister would only have at most seventy-five-thousand troops between the Forces in the Crownlands loyal to his Grandson, Westerlanders, Sellswords, and what few Riverlanders had thrown in their lot with the Lannisters at the chance to defeat old rivals.

And that, Renly felt he could handle. . .

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Stannis scowled, grinding his teeth as he realized that his foolish younger brother was refusing to offer parley terms. Renly had rushed ahead of the infantry and artillery of his forces with the Cavalry and now appeared like he intended simply to charge forth and sweep Stannis and his forces into the sea, as if it would be that simple. Stannis would have offered Renly the Wall at any parley if he refused to abandon his mad notion of grabbing the Kingship. Frankly, he would still offer that, for the love he still held for his brother, what little of it remained.

"It looks as if Renly's not been paying much attention to Lord Seawynd's Reforms, Your Grace. That's a whole lot o' horse with nary a gun betwixt them. Heavy Horse at that." Offered Ser Davos.

"Indeed. No artillery, perishingly few pistols, and not one of them has a Carbine. Does he intend to simply charge in with all that heavy horse as if Warfare hasn't changed?" Questioned Lord Alliser Massey.

"Obviously, my Brother is more of a fool than I'd thought. I had thought that at least Lord Tarly would be giving him sound tactical and strategic advice, but it seems he's listened more to Mace Tyrell." Ground out Stannis.

"Loathe as I am to speak ill of one who holds to the Seven well enough to become a Knight the proper Way, I am pledged to agree with you, My King. Mace Tyrell is not the best person to take such advice from, and it seems that Lord Renly has listened to Lord Mace's ill counsel." Agreed Lord Guncer Sunglass.

"If he won't parley, then it seems like we'll simply have to destroy his forces in the field." Shrugged Lord Caspar Wylde.

"Agreed, send to Lord Velaryon with the Artillery. As soon as the battle begins, I want the guns to be firing on them. Let us see what my foolish brother has to say to the thunder of cannons." Ordered Stannis.

The message was sent and just as the affirmative reply was received, a horn blast rang out from Renly's lines three times signaling the advance of the enemy. Thirty-thousand warhorses trotted forward, beginning slowly before breaking into a charge. As soon as that trot turned into a canter, as the enemy charge gained steam and the enemy packed into a wedge, Stannis turned to his infantry and ordered them to prepare to receive a charge of horse.

Then the artillery opened up and the first deaths of the battle began. . .

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Ser Loras Tyrell sat astride his steed, magnificent destrier puffing away, his rainbow cloak trailing behind him flying in the wind, shining steel plate with the gilded rose of House Tyrell polished to a mirror shine. He was the very picture of a Knight from all the songs and stories. He ought to be, after all, as Renly had made him the Lord Commander of the Rainbow Guard, an idea of his Sister Margaery's to replace the Kingsguard's drab white cloaks.

As Lord Commander, Ser Loras would have access to Renly whenever he wished, a good thing, as though Renly had married his sister for propriety's sake, he still loved Loras. Certainly, Loras was not fooled, he knew Renly would sleep with Margaery and have an heir, but their relationship pre-dated Renly's marriage to his sister and both of them preferred men to women at any rate, Loras exclusively, while Renly would sleep with women on occasion. It was something that Renly had in common with the Red Viper of Dorne, though Oberyn Martell preferred women to men whereas Renly preferred men to women. Of course, such things were less stigmatized in Dorne.

Regardless, it had been the perfect arrangement for that reason and also for the reason that found Loras leading this charge into the enemy. Loras was, it had to be said, the finest Knight that Renly had in his service. As Loras looked to his left and right, spotting Lord Randyll Tarly and Ser Emmon Cuy, known as Emmon the Yellow, he knew that he was a better fighter than either of them and even if Lord Tarly was considered the better tactician, Loras was far less Craven than the Lord of Horn Hill. Seven Hells, Lord Randyll had even counselled against this attack! Wanting to wait for the infantry and artillery!

As their trot broke into a canter, and the forces coalesced into a massive flying wedge, Ser Loras knew that this was the right decision. After all, what force could possibly hope to withstand such a charge of heavy horse? There was a reason that Knights had dominated battlefields for hundreds of years, even Lord Tarly had to recognize that, or he wouldn't be riding at the very crest of the wave of steel and horsflesh alongside him! As the canter turned into a gallop, Renly let out a bark of laughter.

"Ha! At them! Soon we'll have them on the run!" He laughed out loud, a smirk appearing behind his helm.

Then the roaring thunder happened and the dying began, wiping the smirk from his face and taking his mirth with it. One moment, Ser Emmon Cuy was riding beside him, lance couched and was ready to cover the last two hundred yards to the enemy lines, the next he was taken off his horse by a bouncing cannonball that took his head clean off and began bouncing around to mangle nearby forces. Ser Loras let out a yelp of surprise and dug his spurs into the flanks of his mount, urging the reluctant horse on further.

All across the lines, bouncing iron balls wreaked mass destruction, opening great gaps in the flying wedge. Loras grit his teeth and steeled himself against the shock, forcing his lance point back on target and keeping up speed, closing with other mounts to reform the wedge on the move as best he could. The reach had some of the finest horsemen in all of Westeros, and so the wedge was indeed reformed, but they had to have lost hundreds of men to the first bombardment.

The second bombardment came at fifty and a hundred yards, forcing a further consolidation of the wedge. Ser Loras once again managed to avoid a flying cannonball, though he saw that Ser Jon Fossoway's horse had been hit by one of the cannonballs and fairly exploded underneath the Green Apple Knight, breaking one of his legs in the process. Wincing, Loras reformed the wedge once again.

At a hundred yards, the enemy Musketeers opened fire, adding to the cannon fire. Ser Loras spotted Lord Tarly take a musket ball to the shoulder that punched through his pauldron, driving him from his horse, even as a group of Hedge Knights from the Oldtown Area were smashed like a half dozen eggs by a cannonball bouncing into their midst. Moving to reform the wedge, Loras noticed that Ser Rickard Musgood, one of the few Stormlanders to remain Loyal to Renly, was slowing down and falling out of formation. As he turned to look, he found that a musket ball had punched straight through his breastplate and the mail beneath. Ser Rickard was dead in the saddle.

Now only fifty yards away as Enemy Pikemen began to set themselves to receive a charge. Curiously, the enemy's cannons were still being loaded, even though Loras understood them to not be capable of hitting anything from such close range. Ser Loras had only a brief moment to realize that and cotton onto something being wrong before the cannons roared one last time and a spread of what looked to be random metal pieces vomited forth in a cloud of fast-moving, razor-sharp, metallic, debris.

Then there was a flash of white-hot pain from Ser Loras' shoulder, followed by a numb feeling. Ser Loras Tyrell only had a brief moment to realize that one of the metal shards had punched through his pauldron and lodged in his shoulder like a spike as he fell from his horse.

Then darkness took him. . .

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Stannis watched on as the initial enemy charge went from thirty-thousand horsemen to twenty-five-thousand as the cannons and muskets whittled them down before they closed with the pikes. As the enemy charge impaled itself on the hedge of pikes, there was a brief exchange of fire from the extreme left flank, where some one thousand Cavalry from the Dornish Marches of Houses Caron, Gower, Hasty, and Cole fired pistols at the pikemen on the left before hitting home. That part of Renly's attack proceeded much better than anywhere else.

"Trust the Marchers to be prepared for a fight when no one else is." Huffed Lord Caspar Wylde.

"That section of the enemy attack is doing far better than elsewhere." Cautioned Lord Sunglass.

"Quite right, send to the Reserves, he's to send a force to bolster our left flank as soon as practicable." Ordered Stannis.

The message went out, and Stannis got an acknowledgment back a few minutes later. Looking over to the right, he spotted Renly along with a pair of Knights armored in Purple and Orange Enamelled Plate leading a reserve force to bolster the enemy's attack on the right flank. Stannis' grimace turned into a faint smile at that and he drew his sword.

"Your grace?" Queried Ser Davos.

"My brother's deigned to take the field personally! We can capture him here and end this!" Insisted Stannis.

"Right, I shall join you, Your Grace." Nodded Lord Guncer Sunglass.

"Aye, me too." Agreed Ser Davos.

"I'll maintain command here." Offered Lord Caspar Wylde.

"Indeed. Lord Massey, find me one thousand men from the reserves. Once they're assembled, we'll see about capturing my wayward brother!" Commanded Stannis.

"Of course, Your Grace!" Nodded Lord Alliser Massey.

It would take some time for the thousand men to be mustered, and in the meantime, men on both sides of the battle died. Once it had, however, Stannis would lead them on the right, they would break through the enemy, and capture Renly. Stannis wasn't a man to swear oaths lightly, but this he swore. He would capture Renly before the day was up.

After all, doing so would end the threat posed by his claim, and that was worth swearing a vow over. . .

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Ser Justin Massey had, along with Ser Andrey Kellington, Ser Jack Lonmouth, and Ser Maric Seaworth, been delegated to lead the reinforcements for the left wing by Lords Penrose and Celtigar with the Reserves. One thousand men to bolster the defense against the attacking Marcher Cavalry. The Marchers had, of course, been backed by Reach Cavalry, along with Cavalry from House Buckler, who had aligned themselves with Renly. The Marchers had been the only ones to bring pistols, however.

Now they were stuck in, reinforcing the Halberds and Swordsmen on the left flank and allowing the pikemen to reform their formation which had been softened up by pistol fire before the charge hit home and then given way. Thankfully, they'd done their duty and held just long enough for the Halberdiers and Swordsmen to plug the gap and he, Ser Maric, and Ser Jack to arrive with the reinforcements. Now it was the Halberds, Swordsmen, and reinforcements' turn to hold. They had done so for an hour and forty-five minutes already.

"Stonedance!" Cried Ser Justin, as he swung his Arsenal Steel blade at an attacking Marcher Yeoman. The Marcher was a hair too slow to parry and Ser Justin's sword lopped off the Yeoman's arm between vambrace and the sleeve of his mail shirt in a spray of crimson.

"Lonmouth! Lonmouth!" Shouted Ser Jack Lonmouth, his flanged mace crunching down on a Marcher Knight's helm, crushing the steel and shattering the skull beneath as the Marcher fell from his horse.

"Come and have a go, then!" Roared Ser Maric, swinging his Horseman's Axe into the Shield of a Marcher Knight that was painted in the Purple and White of House Hasty. The shield exploded in a shower of wooden splinters, but the Hasty Knight prepared a counterthrust that would punch through Ser Maric's visor and kill the young Knight.

"Ser Maric!" Warned Ser Justin, only to be forced to parry an incoming strike of a Reachman's Blade, his Opponent's Tabard showing the white weasel on black of House Varner. He was thusly prevented from aiding his comrade-in-arms.

As it would turn out, however, Ser Maric wouldn't require his aid, as he was able to lean out of the way of the thrusting blade, though it scraped against the side of Ser Maric's Arsenal Steel Helm with a loud screech of metal on metal, throwing up sparks as it did so. Unfortunately, Ser Maric's return strike was ducked by the Hasty Knight with a lot more room to spare. As Maric and the Hasty Knight traded blows, Ser Jack Lonmouth moved to strike at a Man whose shield bore the Two-headed Pelican of House Dunn.

Ser Justin himself managed to disarm his opponent of House Varner, forcing the man to draw a dagger and leap at him in an attempt to bear Ser Justin from the saddle. It worked, and the pair landed hard on the sodden ground, mud churned up by the charge of horse and the furious melee that followed. Ser Justin lost his sword in the fall, and pulled a dagger of his own. The pair wrestled for a moment on the ground, dodging stamping horse hooves and each trying to get in position to thrust their dagger through a visor or gap in the other's armor. For a few, brief, moments, Ser Justin had the upper hand, before the Varner Knight rolled him and mounted atop him, getting his own dagger into position to thrust down through Ser Justin's visor and into his eye. It was all Ser Justin could do to grab his opponent's arms and try to forestall such an end. It was a losing battle, however, as the Varner Knight had leverage on his side and his dagger slowly crept closer to Ser Justin's visor.

"Yield! Yield or you die!" Snarled the Varner Knight.

It was not good timing on the Varner Knight's part, however, as a crack rang out from nearby followed by a shout. The Musketeers and Pikemen had managed to reform, and they were now starting to drive off the enemy. The Varner Knight's surprise at that gave Ser Justin the opportunity he needed to kip up his hips and throw the Varner Knight forward over his head. With a strangled cry, the Varner Knight was flung forward, off balance, planting the tip of his dagger into the turf just a few inches above Ser Justin's head.

Ser Justin immediately got up, moving to mount the Varner Knight in a reversal of the prior circumstances. Now Ser Justin had the leverage, and the Varner Knight no longer had his dagger. A brief struggle ensued before the Varner Knight Yielded. Taking his Opponent Prisoner, Ser Justin stood to see that Ser Maric and Ser Lonmouth had done likewise with the Hasty and Dunn Knights as well. Fifteen minutes after that, the enemy forces withdrew, charge and ensuing melee having failed them, to a nearby hill to one side of Durran's Point.

Turning back to their prisoners, the three Young Knights were shocked to see that they had just captured Ser Donal Dunn, Lord Steffon Varner, and Ser Bonnifer Hasty, the heads of House Dunn, Varner, and Hasty respectively. Ser Justin had to laugh at that. He'd wanted to find Glory while serving under Stannis and now he had.

What in the Seven Hells would he do now?

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Renly had withdrawn to a nearby Hilltop, leaving many forces wounded and dead behind him. On the one hand, that was a good thing. On the other, it meant that unless Stannis was to move his artillery away from Storm's End and reposition them to fire upon the Hill, he would have to counterattack without the artillery, uphill.

On the other hand, Renly couldn't have more than two-thirds of his forces left, while Stannis still had the bulk of his own. Plus, all his forces were dismounted heavy cavalry. It was an advantage in numbers and quality that meant Stannis didn't need the guns. Twenty-seven-thousand-six-hundred men with black powder weaponry versus twenty-thousand dismounted heavy cavalry? Stannis would take those odds and gladly.

As the men formed up at the base of the hill, Stannis recalled the Hill's name. Unimaginatively, the Hill had been named Durran's Thumb, to complement Durran's Point, on which sat Durran's Castle of Storms End. If the name was unimaginative or not, Stannis supposed it didn't matter. After today, it would be seen as the final resting place of Mace Tyrell's dreams of getting a grandson on the Iron Throne.

"Advance!" Called out Stannis.

The men did, and he advanced with them, finally taking the field personally. As the men advanced up the hill, the crack of musket volleys rang out, the snaplocks that Lord Seawynd had spread through their forces allowing Stannis' Musketeers to fire three rounds a minute universally, as compared to the clunkier matchlocks, which required well-drilled troops to sustain that rate of fire, or the Handgonnes of just a few years ago which could do two on a good day.

In either case, Renly had neither Matchlocks nor Handgonnes with him. Only a few of his forces even had pistols, and those lacked the range to fire back accurately at this stage even if they hadn't expended what ammunition they had brought with them, Renly having left his supplies behind in his mad dash to do something to prevent Stannis from taking Storms End.

It hurt their forces now, as they desperately tried anything to fire back. A few sporadic pistol shots and flung rocks answered the disciplined volleys of Stannis' Musketeers. Men fell on both sides, but not enough to matter for Renly, not nearly enough. Meanwhile, Stannis' own musketeers had reaped a fearsome toll on the enemy.

As the pikes rammed home into the enemy, breaking off on armor, shields, or in flesh, Stannis surged forward alongside the Halberdiers and Swordsmen, his own blade flashing out. The weapon was made of Arsenal Steel and lined with Runes that Lord Seawynd had assured him were more than decorative, though Stannis had little faith in the Magics that many in Essos claimed to practice, he couldn't deny how sharp and well-balanced the blade was. As it bit into the steel gauntlet of an enemy Man-at-arms with a crunching noise, ruining the Reachman's swordhand, Stannis nodded once in satisfaction, wrenching the blade free and taking fingers with it.

Next to him, Ser Davos fired off the single pistol that the Former Smuggler kept on him, the ball punching through the mail hauberk of the Fossoway Guard that stood in his way, even as his Arsenal Steel Cutlass parried an incoming mace strike from a nearby Yeoman in the Cornucopia-emblazoned Tabard of House Merryweather. A swift ripost cleaved into the Merryweather Guardsman's neck, the man going down choking on his own blood.

Nearby, Lord Guncer Sunglass lashed out with his Bastard Sword, cleaving through the oaken shield of a Cockshaw Knight, the feathers of that House's Emblem breaking apart as the shield was rendered just so much dead wood. The Cockshaw Knight's riposte was parried by a flourish of Lord Sunglass' Bastard Sword and the counterstroke literally smashed the Cockshaw Knight to the ground, denting the man's head and knocking him unconscious for capture.

All around them, Stannis Forces cleaved into and through defending members of Renly's remaining Army, slowly grinding them up the hill and pressing them tighter into a ball. For an hour and a half, this steady pressing continued. Stannis saw a Halberdier batter a man in Blue-enameled Armor with one of those ridiculous Rainbow Cloaks, even as Lord Caspar Wylde dueled the Green-enameled Knight from Earlier and Ser Justin Massey and Ser Maric Seaworth took on Knights in Purple and Orange-enameled Armor. Nearby, Ser Jack Lonmouth dueled a Knight in Red-enameled Armor and straight ahead, Renly in his blackened plate with gilded highlights stood trading blows with a Halberdier.

As he watched, Renly struck out, cutting into the Halberdier's armpit with his blade, punching through the mail and running the man through. Nearby, the Knight in the Blue-enameled Armor hacked the legs out from a Halberdier and was suddenly engaged by Lord Alliser Massey. The pair traded blows. Stannis had no time to watch them, however, as Renly spotted him.

"Stannis! Why couldn't you just let your damned pride rest?" Spat Renly.

"It is not Pride, Renly. I am the elder brother. With Cersei's children Bastards, the Iron Throne passes to me by law!" Insisted Stannis.

"Yes, and who would have followed you? You prickly bastard!" Snarled Renly.

"Clearly better people than have been advising you, brother! Now cease this madness, yield, and I can offer you leniency!" Inisisted Stannis.

"Fuck your leniency! You killed my Loras!" Growled Renly, before charging Stannis, blade held high as if to split Stannis in twain.

Renly struck out in a nightly diagonal slash and Stannis parried the incoming sword with his own blade only for Renly to press his attack, forcing Stannis to wind and bind with him as each man sought to gain the upper hand on the other. It was the smartest move Renly had made in the entire battle, as he had a slight advantage over Stannis in raw strength. Unfortunately, Stannis had a much higher degree of experience and as they wound and bound, Stannis lashed out with a sabaton-clad foot to the inside of Renly's leg. Renly's stance was forcibly widened, breaking his stance and allowing Stannis to smash his crossguard into the side of Renly's helm.

Renly was sent staggering sideways and Stannis struck for his gauntlet, hoping to disarm his brother and compel Renly to yield. It wasn't to be, unfortunately, as Renly threw himself to the ground, dodging the blade. Thinking quickly, Renly scooped up a handful of mud from the hilltop with one hand and tossed it into Stannis' Visor before surging to his feet and striking out. Temporarily blinded as he was, Stannis failed to see the attack coming.

There was a crash of metal on metal as Renly's blade smashed into Stannis' Greathelm. The metal screeched as the blow struck and Stannis felt pain in his head as the crunching metal of his helm dented inward from the blow and cut into his scalp. The Arsenal Steel was strong, however, and the blow, while painful and bleeding, wasn't incapacitation. It did, however, knock the mud out of his visor. Stannis stumbled to the side but managed to duck Renly's follow-up thrust that would have slipped between his gorget and helm and killed him.

As Renly's thrust sailed over his head, Stannis reached up, clenching his gauntleted hands around Renly's blade, trapping it. The mail links and small plates of his gauntlet held just long enough for Stannis' own blade to smash into the back of Renly's sword hand, smashing into Renly's gauntlet and creasing the lobstered plates, breaking Renly's sword hand and forcing Renly to drop his blade.

Now disarmed, with a broken hand, Renly was powerless to avoid his own helm being struck off his head by Stannis smashing his crossguard into his head. As Renly's helm fell into the muddy ground of the hilltop Stannis struck out with his pommel, striking the top of Renly's head and knocking him unconscious.

With Renly unconscious, Stannis looked around. He saw that his Principal Lords and Knights had managed to defeat Renly's ridiculous Rainbow Guard, and what was left of Renly's Army fought on only in the hopes that they could break out. Another half an hour went by before a few managed, led by Lords Merryweather and Rowan, but most were trapped and surrendered.

With Renly captured, the Reachmen had no choice but to withdraw. The Battle of Storms End had been won by Stannis. It had cost him some three-thousand-two-hundred men killed or wounded. Meanwhile, Renly had lost two-thirds of his force killed, wounded, or captured, with ten thousand under Lords Orton Merryweather and Mathis Rowan managing to escape the defeat. Among the captured were Lords Randyll Tarly, Steffon Varner, Bryce Caron, Martyn Mullendore, Robin Peasebury, Raymund Cafferen, and Owen Fossoway as well as Sers Ronnet Connington, Ben Bushy, Denys Dunn, Bonnifer Hasty, Jon Fossoway, Loras Tyrell, Guyard Morrigen and Parmen Crane. Renly himself had also been captured.

The Stormlords and Stormland Knights all switched allegiance to Stannis, as did both Fossoways, Ser Ben Bushy, Lord Varner, and Ser Denys Dunn. The rest refused and were being kept prisoner, waiting for Mace Tyrell to bend the knee before Stannis decided what to do with them. Renly himself would be sent to the Wall. Needless to say, the Stormlands were now united behind Stannis.

And the way north into the Crownlands was open. . .

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AN: All right, so here we see Stannis utterly dominate Renly in the Battle of Storm's End. With how poor a strategist and tactician Renly is, there really wasn't any other way for this fight to end. However, the amount of Reach Nobility killed or captured here is equivalent to that of Agincourt IRL. That should be crippling to Mace, even if he wanted to try and back Tywin this time around. Of course, Mace is Mace and might try anyway, especially if he thinks it will salvage his position. You'll just have to read on to find out.

At any rate, the next chapter will be an interlude looking at the Riverlands, then we'll be back with Ricasso.

Stay tuned. . .