Storms Converge, The Beginning of Endless War

In Storm's End's drum tower, the sea wind poured through narrow arrow slits, carrying the salty stench of Shipbreaker Bay.

A scroll of parchment lay spread across a rough oak table, its edge pinned down by a heavily callused hand.

"Ten thousand urgently levied Stormlands warriors have already marched north."

Twelve-year-old Renly Baratheon spoke, his clear voice carrying the confidence unique to youth.

He puffed out his small chest as though he wore not a velvet tunic, but a full suit of gilded armor.

Ser Cortnay Penrose did not look at him.

The acting castellan's gaze was nailed to the urgent letter, his bald head gleaming with oil in the flickering candlelight.

His shovel-like red beard twitched.

"Not enough."

His voice was hoarse but resolute.

"Ten thousand farmers and fishermen are not enough to deal with that Black Lion."

Renly Baratheon's brows drew together.

"Lord Selwyn Tarth is battle-hardened."

"They'll hold the Kingsroad, just as surely as Storm's End's walls."

At last, Ser Cortnay Penrose raised his head, his weathered face betraying no emotion.

He spoke slowly. "That young man, Suleiman."

"If he truly raises the banner of rebellion, the Crownlands will be flying his banners within ten days."

He extended a finger and traced a shocking path across the map on the table.

"In half a month, his vanguard will come into view."

"Storm's End will be under siege."

Renly Baratheon followed his finger, and a trace of disdain crossed his face.

"He would never dare!"

"My brother is king. He gave Storm's End to me."

"No one dares act recklessly on Baratheon lands."

Ser Cortnay Penrose withdrew his hand and clenched it into a fist.

"The Reach will watch the fire from across the river."

"The Dornish would love nothing more than to see us dead."

"No one