"Impossible."
"Absolutely impossible!" Renly laughed, waving his sleeve. "I sent eight hundred elite troops to help defend Goldengrove. Eight hundred! Plus the original garrison, Eddard should've needed at least a month to crack it. How the hell did he take it so fast?"
Lord Edmure Tully lowered his eyes, thinking for a moment. "My lord, it's entirely possible."
Renly's smile froze. He stepped closer. "What did you say?"
"Lord Mathis was ordered to march out, but he was captured by the enemy during the retreat," Lord Edmure said grimly. "Goldengrove is House Rowan's seat. The commander is his eldest son. If Lord Mathis surrendered after being taken, he could've ordered the gates opened and let Eddard walk right in."
Renly fell silent. Then he spun around and smashed his fist into the table.
"Goddamn Mathis!" he snarled through clenched teeth. "He only had to follow the plan and fall back to Goldengrove. How the hell did he get captured? And lose seven thousand men—that's an eighth of our entire army!"
His finger stabbed hard at the map over Goldengrove, like he wanted to punch straight through it. "I don't get it. What situation could possibly make him defect in the middle of a war? Only the most notorious sellswords pull that kind of shit."
Lord Edmure stayed quiet. They both knew the truth. The only way Goldengrove fell that fast was if Mathis and his son had colluded with the enemy from the inside, betraying their own troops.
For a proud earl to risk his entire family's honor on something like this… either he was bought with an enormous reward, or he believed they were already finished.
Renly couldn't say it out loud. He'd never been the general Eddard was. The only reason he'd raised this army was his charm, his network, and the fact that everyone still believed he would win. So he had to look perfect in front of his men—generous, confident, never doubting his followers.
Even though deep down he already knew Mathis had betrayed him.
But wasn't he himself a traitor too?
Every single day since he raised his banners, Renly had lived in fear, terrified Robert would suddenly return and smash his skull in with that warhammer.
Would Robert forgive him?
Stannis kept insisting Robert was dead. So he'd crowned himself king. Then little Joffrey was murdered by Eddard. In just a few days the realm had fallen into total chaos.
An opportunity like this had never existed before.
Loras urged him to take the crown, saying the entire Reach would back him and help him seize the Iron Throne.
Take the crown?
Renly didn't dare.
But the positions of Hand and Regent… those he wanted.
He'd told Loras the truth—that Robert was still alive. The man hadn't cared one bit. He'd still thrown his full support behind Renly and even married his sister to him.
But Renly had zero interest in the girl. She was far more scheming than Loras.
On their wedding night he asked her straight out: "I'm not planning to be king. Marrying me won't make you queen."
The girl only smiled sweetly. "I can wait."
At the time Renly hadn't understood. Later it hit him—she was basically cursing his brother to never come back. He'd been so angry he almost slapped her right there. Luckily Loras showed up in time to calm him down.
After that night he refused to sleep in the same bed as his wife.
"My lord?"
"My lord!"
Lord Edmure's voice pulled Renly out of his thoughts.
"Goldengrove is lost. Eddard now has a solid foothold east of the river." He tapped the map. "He's got a forward base in northern Reach. We're no longer untouchable over here."
"Then we just fall back to Highgarden?" Renly rubbed his eyes.
"No, my lord." Lord Edmure shook his head firmly. "We have to take Bitterbridge."
Renly nodded, though his brow furrowed deeper. "Then how do we take it? Casterly Rock still has Tywin's remnants and fresh Westerlands troops. The Kingslayer's cavalry has disappeared without a trace. We don't even know if he's gone to link up with Eddard or circled back to Deep Den to march up the Goldroad and relieve Casterly Rock. The moment we move, they'll swarm us like flies."
"That's exactly what we want," Lord Edmure said, looking up. "This is part of the plan."
"What? Goldengrove has fallen? Mathis didn't fake it—he actually surrendered?"
Joffrey stared at the report in his hand, scratching his chin.
Was I overthinking this?
Goldengrove didn't just have Rowan troops—Renly had sent several hundred men as well. One group to help with defense, the other to watch for exactly this kind of betrayal.
But Mathis threw a feast, got Renly's knights drunk, and pulled every soldier off the walls. Eddard sent in his best men and took the castle in a single night.
Tsk.
Rare. Very rare.
Mathis's youngest son was still riding with Renly.
Every noble house hedged their bets—Bronn's brother, Bronze Yohn's second son Robar Royce. Plenty of men in the allied army had brothers or sons serving Renly. That was normal.
But bringing your entire house over to the enemy? That was genuinely unusual.
Joffrey had offered huge incentives and only managed to flip two houses. Yet Mathis had taken one look at him and switched sides immediately. It was almost too smooth. Suspiciously smooth.
"Dog, do I have some kind of overwhelming royal aura that makes people drop to their knees the second they see me?"
The Hound cursed him out.
Joffrey didn't expect anything useful from the dog's mouth anyway.
After the joke, he turned back to the siege camp in front of him.
Everyone knew Bitterbridge had "bridge" in the name because it sat right on a bridge. The castle itself wasn't big—stone and timber walls, flat open fields all around. Taking it should have been much easier than Goldengrove.
Still, Eddard had beaten him to it by a step.
Joffrey needed to move fast. He didn't want to miss the coming battle.
"My lords, if we drag our feet any longer, the girls in Highgarden will all be taken before you even get there!"