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He loved using fire too much—even on water.
The cavalry had drawn the enemy's attention along the Rose Road upstream. To transport supplies, Renly had even sent all the troops stationed at Bitterbridge to the upper reaches of the Mander River. They cut down trees, built camps, and set up ports.
Davos had initially assumed their target would be this military camp. But Cole had his sights set on the heart of the fleet. They seized the ships, blocked the river, and pressed on toward Highgarden.
This stretch of the Mander was crowded with vessels. Large merchant ships built for the open sea and small fishing boats alike lined the riverbanks, packed so tightly that they stretched as far as the eye could see.
A boat, engulfed in flames, shot toward the riverbank. Within moments, fire spread along the shore, reaching the nearby camp. Panic erupted as the flames devoured everything in their path.
They crossed the river and stormed the camp. What had once been a well-guarded stronghold was already in chaos. It took little effort to capture it.
He had burned Renly's provisions once again. Standing on the deck, Davos watched the young man who had orchestrated it all.
By now, they had retreated to the open sea without encountering much resistance.
A strong sea breeze tousled the strands of hair on his forehead as he leaned against the ship's railing, gazing out at the waves. He seemed to take pleasure in watching the endless expanse of the sea, the rise and fall of the water, the seabirds gliding above.
"Ser Davos, it's not very polite to watch someone in secret," he said, turning around, a piece of rye bread in hand.
Davos stepped aside, realizing the young man wasn't just looking at the sea—he was feeding the fish.
"Look at that," Cole said, gesturing toward the water. "We've made quite the nest."
"A nest?"
"A way to attract fish. Before fishing, you scatter bait at the spot."
"That's an interesting way to put it. But if you want to catch something big, rye bread won't do the trick."
"When I was a boy, I heard someone claim they had seen a mermaid in the Bay of Crabs. It made me wonder if you could fish for one with the right bait. Tell me, Ser, in all your years at sea, have you ever seen a mermaid?"
Davos had noticed the naval commander's fascination with legends. From the dragons of Summerhall to mermaids, it wouldn't surprise him if the man started speaking of White Walkers next.
"So, Ser, are you fishing for mermaids?" he asked.
Cole raised the piece of bread with a grin. "If mermaids eat rye, then perhaps I am."
With that, he tossed the bread into the sea. "Where are we now?"
"We've sailed past the Dornish coast. The island we just passed is Estermont. The lords there fight for Renly. I've heard their lord is a cautious man, not one for bold moves."
"Soon enough, they will bend the knee to His Grace and fight in the name of the Lord of Light."
Davos wasn't so sure. The war was far from over. When he had carried Stannis's commands to various lords, most had ignored him outright. Some had even refused to let him inside their halls.
If Stannis lost, would he surrender to his enemies? Never. Everything he had, Stannis had given him.
The ship pressed forward. A white blur trailed behind them. With a sharp cry, it dove into the water, emerging with a wriggling fish in its claws. With a flick, the creature tossed the fish into the air, exhaled a stream of fire, and charred it black before swallowing it whole.
They sailed on, heading for Shipbreaker Bay.
Stannis himself stood atop the walls of Storm's End, waiting to receive them.
That night, he summoned all the knightly lords to the great hall for a council.
Davos noticed that Lord Velaryon and Lord Celtigar looked impatient.
The meeting had barely begun when the siege horns rang out.
The knights responsible for the city's defenses hurried away, while the remaining lords followed the king to the central tower. From there, they would have a clear view of the battle unfolding below.
Renly's army spread beneath the city walls like an endless tide.
Countless banners swayed in the wind—the crowned stag of Baratheon, the golden rose of Highgarden, the red-and-gold fox encircled by blue and white stones, the red-clad huntsman on a green field.
From the battlements, it seemed as though the land itself had vanished beneath the sheer mass of soldiers.
"They're committing their entire army to the assault," muttered Lord Celtigar, his voice trembling.
Stannis stood beside him, his expression grim.
Davos suspected the reason behind this bold attack. Without food or supplies, Renly's forces had no choice but to make a desperate move. He watched as catapults were rolled into position below. The archers and crossbowmen atop the walls loosed volleys of arrows, but the war machines remained well beyond their reach.
A catapult was loaded with stones. Its wooden arm snapped upward, hurling its payload through the sky. The boulder crashed into the city wall, leaving a dent in the stonework. Debris scattered, but the ancient walls of Storm's End were thick and unyielding.
Davos glanced at Cole, noting the conflicted look on his face.
The bombardment continued from morning to noon. The defenders pulled back to the arrow towers and stairwells, firing cautiously from behind the merlons.
Now and then, shield-bearers moved along the walls, providing cover where needed.
By midday, smoke began to rise from Renly's camp below.
"He wants me to know they still have provisions," Stannis remarked.
Before the smoke had even cleared, a lone rider approached the city gates.
It was Alliser Florent, Lord of Brightwater Keep—uncle to Stannis's queen, Selyse. That Renly would send such a man to Storm's End made his intentions uncertain.
The king received Lord Alliser in the tower chamber. The envoy bowed first.
"Your Grace, I trust you have been well."
He was a lean, aging man, his beard neatly trimmed, his posture stiff with formality. Davos studied him—the noble lord who shared ties of blood with Stannis, yet now stood before him as Renly's messenger.
"Are you here on Renly's behalf?" the king asked without preamble.
Lord Alliser gave a practiced smile. "I come in the name of honor, Your Grace."
"Is that so?" Stannis said coolly. "Then let your king tell you what advice he offers."
"Your Grace, you and Lord Renly are brothers—both trueborn kin of King Robert."
"I told you once before—I will not acknowledge him as my brother so long as he wears that treasonous crown. And I will never forgive him unless he removes that foolish thing," Stannis declared, his voice firm.
"Brothers should not do this—"
"I have no patience for empty words meant for fools. Speak plainly—what does Renly want?"
Lord Alliser opened his mouth, then hesitated. Finally, he produced a letter from his sleeve and handed it to Stannis.
The king unfolded the parchment.
"Hmph." He let out a cold snort after reading only a few lines. "He seeks to goad me into riding out for a decisive battle."
With a flick of his wrist, he cast the letter aside.
"I ought to strap you to a catapult and launch you back to your king," Stannis said, his tone like iron. "But my wife is of House Florent, so I will grant you mercy.
"Go back and tell Renly—if he wants a decisive battle, he can come by sea. Or he can climb these walls himself.
"He will answer for his insults soon enough."