Chapter 234

Storm's End itself was a massive tower, encircled by outer walls a hundred feet high and forty feet thick—on the seaward side, the walls were even double the thickness.

It was one of the strongest castles in the Seven Kingdoms, on par with Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, and had never fallen to a direct assault. The Golden Company had seized Storm's End through deceit and a surprise attack during the chaos following Renly’s death and the leaderless state of the Stormlands. But under normal circumstances, with prepared defenders, the castle was nearly impregnable; there were no means of taking it save by battering down the gates or scaling its walls.

Stannis, who had lived in Storm’s End for over a decade and defended it during the legendary Siege of Storm’s End in Robert’s Rebellion, knew every stone and corner of the castle. Confident in his intimate knowledge, he was certain he could reclaim it and display the strength and authority of his kingship, forcing the Seven Kingdoms to acknowledge his might.

But when the time came to assault Storm’s End, Stannis discovered the task was far more difficult than he had anticipated. The castle’s walls were said to be imbued with magic, and this magic did not weaken simply because the attacker had grown up there and was its rightful owner. Ironically, Stannis’s own improvements and fortifications to the castle during his defense in Robert’s Rebellion had turned it into an even more seamless bastion, eliminating any exploitable weaknesses.

Now, over a decade later, Stannis found himself on the other side of the walls, experiencing firsthand the frustration of breaking into the very fortress he had made unassailable.
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A fortress without flaws was not necessarily invulnerable, however. Stannis knew exactly which angles of attack would limit the defenders' ability to rain down fire, which sections of the walls were lowest and easiest to climb, and which gates could be broken most quickly. Given enough time to construct and deploy siege engines tailored to these vulnerabilities, retaking Storm’s End would be inevitable.

But a series of unexpected complications thwarted Stannis’s plans.

First, the Dornish army—led by Prince Oberyn Martell—ignored orders and marched north, setting up camp just ten miles from Storm’s End. Although the Dornish refrained from outright provocation or attacks, their hostility was clear. Stannis was forced to divert significant resources to guard against them, slowing his siege preparations considerably.

Second, the Northern army clashed with the Reach forces west of Bronze Gate for the third time. This time, Randyll Tarly, leading the elite forces of the Reach, advanced steadily along the Rose Road, engaging Robb Stark in a pitched battle. Unlike their earlier victories in the Westerlands and King’s Landing, the Northern army struggled against the numerically superior Reach forces in a bloody two-day battle. Outnumbered and suffering losses, Robb was forced to retreat to Bronze Gate, using the castle’s defenses to continue blocking the Reach army’s advance toward Storm’s End.

To make matters worse, news arrived that the Ironborn had launched raids and invasions in the North. This demoralized the Northern troops, many of whom now wished to return home to defend their lands.
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The empty state of the royal treasury exacerbated the situation. Every day of the war required payment to the soldiers. Though Stannis had temporarily alleviated the financial strain with the funds he confiscated from rebellious lords and the large ransom Tywin Lannister had sent the previous month, those funds were nearly depleted after just a month of campaigning.

Seated in his command tent, surrounded by reports of setbacks, Stannis felt the crushing weight of reality. For the first time, he regretted sending Melisandre away.

The accursed woman, with her endless proclamations about him being the "chosen one," the "prince that was promised," and the true king of the Seven Kingdoms, had seduced him into believing her visions. He had even committed the unforgivable sin of kinslaying on her counsel. But rather than help him secure his hard-won throne, she had insisted on dragging him north to fight wildlings.

And now, in the moment he most needed her supernatural aid, she had abandoned him entirely, running off to the Wall. True, he had impulsively dismissed her, but he hadn’t told her to flee so far away!

Should he summon her back? But what of his pride, his dignity as a man and a king?

As he brooded, another problem arose.

“Your Grace, an emissary from the Iron Bank requests an audience.”

Stannis’s face darkened. “Here to demand repayment, no doubt. I’ll not see him.”

Ser Barristan Selmy, standing nearby, stepped forward. “Your Grace, you can refuse anyone, but you cannot refuse the Iron Bank. If they interpret your dismissal as a refusal to honor your debts, they might seek out another ruler willing to acknowledge them. That would bring endless chaos to the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Should I cower before the threats of a pack of foreign bankers?”

“Your Grace,” Davos Seaworth interjected diplomatically, knowing how to handle Stannis’s temper, “your courage is beyond question. But proving it here would be a meaningless risk. The wisest course is to meet with the emissary, affirm your acknowledgment of the debt, and explain your current financial difficulties. A mere statement of intent would suffice to buy time, without requiring you to pay a single coin.”

Stannis knew both men were offering loyal, well-meaning advice. Still, the injustice rankled him: Robert’s extravagance had won him immense personal prestige, while leaving the Seven Kingdoms in shambles. Now Stannis, inheriting a bankrupt throne, was expected to repay a staggering debt that wasn’t his doing. It was infuriatingly unfair.

But the world was never fair. The Iron Throne itself had not been won through fairness, but through war and bloodshed. Stannis composed himself, smoothing his appearance and straightening his posture. “Fine. Bring him in.”
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A newly appointed Kingsguard left the tent and soon returned with the emissary.

“Your Grace, I am Cortys Leyn, a representative of the Iron Bank of Braavos.” The Braavosi bowed. “I am here to discuss your outstanding debts to the Bank.”

“Debts,” Stannis snorted. “I’ve never received a single coin from your Bank, yet somehow I owe you millions. That’s what you call a ‘debt issue’?”

“Specifically, two million, one hundred fifteen thousand, four hundred and twenty-one gold dragons,” Cortys replied evenly. “This is the sum outstanding after the Iron Throne defaulted on its last repayment cycle. Debts belong to the Iron Throne, Your Grace. Whoever sits on the throne inherits the obligation to repay them. We trust you, as a reasonable man, understand this principle. We are here to request an explanation for the previous default.”

“Explanation?” Stannis growled. “Here’s your explanation: I’m in the middle of a war, burning through gold by the day. I can’t spare a copper penny for repayment.”

“Debts belong to the Iron Throne, correct?” Stannis turned to Barristan with mockery. “Escort this fine gentleman to King’s Landing. Have him load the throne onto a ship and send it to Braavos as repayment.”

Cortys blinked, taken aback. The intelligence reports on Stannis Baratheon described him as a stern, humorless man—not one prone to sarcasm or theatrics. For a moment, the Braavosi banker was at a loss for words.

Davos seized the opportunity to interject. “Your Grace jests, of course. Stannis Baratheon is Robert’s rightful heir and acknowledges his brother’s debts. However, given the pressing need to reclaim Storm’s End, repayment is simply not possible at this time.”
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Stannis clenched his jaw, suppressing his rising frustration. “Fine. I acknowledge the debt. But I require a deferment on repayment. Furthermore, I request a new loan to address my army’s pressing financial needs.”

Cortys shook his head. “Your Grace, while deferment can be arranged—for a fee—I regret to inform you that the Bank’s latest risk assessments for Westeros indicate a severe risk of default. As such, I am not authorized to issue any new loans until the current winter ends.”

“Risk assessments,” Stannis repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “So, you demand repayment but refuse to offer any aid in return. What, then, is the point of my acknowledgment?”

“The Iron Bank offers more than loans, Your Grace. We provide protection and intelligence services. And while new loans are currently off the table, they may become available again if repayments resume next cycle. Higher-ranking officials would then review your application.”

“Protection and intelligence,” Stannis muttered bitterly. “Are you implying I can’t win my wars or secure my position without the Bank’s help?”

“Your Grace, there is no threat implied here,” Cortys replied deferentially. “If my words have caused offense, I apologize. I will relay your acknowledgment to my superiors and arrange for the deferment of your debts.”

Stannis waved dismissively. “Do as you like. Now leave—I’ve more pressing matters to discuss with my advisors.”

Once the banker had departed, Stannis turned his attention back to Davos and Barristan. “The Lannister ransom is nearly spent, and Robb Stark has written for the third time, requesting leave to march north and deal with the Ironborn.”

Davos hesitated before speaking. “Your Grace, perhaps we should consider withdrawing to King’s Landing for now. We can regroup, replenish our funds, and plan our next move.”

“Withdraw and let that pretender—calling himself Aegon VI—solidify his hold on Storm’s End? Never.”
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After reading a sealed message from Robb Stark, Stannis made his decision. "If the North marches home in five days, I’ll use those days to strike a decisive blow. Ready the men. We move at dawn."