Why didn't I like the idea of having a cupbearer right now?
First of all, I understood perfectly well that in such a world, it is very, very difficult for a weak-willed, trusting, and foolish king to survive. That is precisely why such a person — a tester, a cupbearer — is necessary. But, first of all, he will most likely die.
Of course, my conscience wouldn't torment me too much, and I could probably justify myself by saying that one man's death would allow me to save thousands during my reign.
In general, that is understandable.
But there was a second, far more compelling reason. If the cupbearer were to die at the wedding, many would see it as a bad omen — both for the newlyweds and for Joffrey's entire reign, which was only just beginning. And that would strike a blow to reputation. Cersei would be furious and would begin acting like a madwoman in her attempts to find the "traitor." The wedding would be ruined, rumors would spread about the wrath of the gods, and most likely Cersei would try to pin the blame on Tyrion…
That outcome was not appealing in the least. So, while there was still no cupbearer, I was inclined to think that on my first day, I would rely on myself to survive. Knowing when — and more importantly, how — they were going to poison me, it was quite manageable.
Although, on the other hand, such caution might seem naive and foolish in light of a simple truth — I just have to survive. And for that, almost any means are acceptable. I don't think that when I start choking on poison, I'll be concerned about the kingdom's prestige or bad omens at a wedding.
Another detail that worried me greatly was whether Sansa would run away today. And, in general, whether that would be beneficial or not.
The first answer: no, it wouldn't. The escape must be prevented.
But if I think about it, I can also find arguments in favor of letting the girl go.
Besides, how could I even stop it? Warn Tyrion to keep an eye on his beloved wife? Yes, that could be done. But it would be much more better if I weren't poisoned, there was no panic, my uncle wasn't arrested, and Sansa had no opportunity to "slip away."
And for some reason, I couldn't forget the look in Margaery's deep, sparkling eyes — nor her amazingly graceful figure, full of life and femininity...
Time passed very quickly in such thoughts.
***
Herald Orm
Herald and Harald, the Orm brothers, had first arrived in King's Landing with the armies of the Reach, at the very moment when Stannis Baratheon's fleet was burning upon the waters of the Blackwater — a sight they would remember for the rest of their lives.
The thick chain built by Tyrion the Imp blocked the river from one bank to the other. Burning ships, caught in its grip, created a massive jam that grew larger by the minute. It seemed as though the tongues of witchfire were reaching straight up to the heavens, and the flesh of men was melting like candle wax. People screamed and cursed their fate, horses neighed, the stench of charred flesh hung in the air, and galleys, barges, and smaller vessels burned like torches. Downstream, charred bodies drifted away; drowning men clung with blackened hands to fragments of wood; those less fortunate sank to the bottom — food for the fish.
At that moment, a huge green demon danced in the center of the bay — that's how the Wildfire was burning. Its color was so bright it made one's eyes water from pain.
Herald imagined that the river itself was boiling within its banks. Many knights shuddered involuntarily — such a death was clearly not the best possible end.
All around was hell, and in this hell, their army — led by Tywin Lannister and his ally, Mace Tyrell — drove Stannis's land forces toward the southern shore of the Blackwater.
The battle was fierce. Baratheon's men were trapped — behind them, the burning fleet and sinking ships; before them, the blades of their enemies. With nowhere to retreat, they fought to the last.
The combined forces of the Reach and the Rock were fortunate. Or so their commanders calculated, but the enemy elite, the cavalry, found themselves confined to a relatively small patch of land. Mixed in with the infantry, they could neither maneuver nor display their true might.
And their own army spread wide in a great arc, surging down from the hills above. Ser Garlan Tyrell, wearing the armor of the late Renly Baratheon, sowed confusion among many brave enemy hearts. It was a clever ruse that allowed to throw an extra weight onto their side of the scales.
And yet, they had to fight hard before finally "crushing" their foes. Later, some claimed that about twenty thousand enemies had fallen. But few people believed such huge figures with a cool head. Moreover, Stannis Baratheon and Roland Storm had not abandoned their men — they managed to evacuate many survivors on the remaining ships that had moored below the chain.
A few days after the battle, Herald and Harald were knighted. In the chaos, Herald had fought no worse — but also no better — than most others. He had acted bravely and decisively, like so many men that day, and that was enough to earn him his spurs. However, there were nearly six hundred others who had been knighted after Blackwater, and the young warrior's dream of being noticed did not come true.
Herald hailed from the glorious and ancient House of Orm. Long ago, they had been among the foremost houses supporting the Hightowers of Oldtown.
But time had not been kind to them. The Orms had grown impoverished and lost much of their former grandeur and wealth, overtaken by more fortunate and ambitious families.
They still held their ancestral castle — Three Harps — and the surrounding lands. Their main source of income had once been the vineyards on the western slopes of the Red Mountains. They had also bred fine warhorses in their own meadows. But things got worse and worse from year to year.
Herald was the third son of Berg Orm. Three Harps still had enough money for the eldest son, the heir. The father helped the two younger sons only with advice and small sums of coin, making no secret of his belief that the most convenient — and proper — path for them was to prove themselves in war and earn their knighthood.
Thus, Herald and his older brother Harald found themselves in the army of the Reach, serving under their liege lords — the Hightowers.
(End of Chapter)
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