The warhorns called, echoing out across the grassy fields on the northern bank of the Mander, where the castle Bitterbridge sat, stout and surrounded by tents upon tents, banners from every conceivable noble house of the Reach, and then some that too frequently slip the mind. On either side of the great river Mander were arrayed sigils of a different color, however, the black-on-gold of the Durrandons of Storm’s End-- after long moons of staring across the field at each other, the storm had come to the last redoubt of the Reach.

Word had arrived in the past days of the fall of Highgarden, the breaking of the Hightower host on King Tyrion’s fortified lines. Men celebrated at that, and the Storm King sent a missive to his goodbrother, requesting they reunite at Bitterbridge and put the war to an end. Thousands of men had died on either side, and the Storm King had borne his share of the losses-- his good friend of Connington, his Warden of the Southmarches, the Lord of Nightsong, and so many others. The Stormlands would be weak and tired for some time as the next generation of soldiers came up, but they would have lands and wealth from the Reach after this. The Storm King dreamed of a parcel of land stretching from the Blackwater rush to Darkdell, expanding the Stormlands’ territory half again to the west. He would be the greatest Storm King since Arlan III Durrandon, who had planted the crowned stag on the shores of Ironman’s Bay.

When a week on the victorious Lannister host arrived at the Durrandon war camp, a cheer went up that no doubt roused the Reachmen from their tents. The Lion and the Stag had reunited, and together with the untested Clawmen stood unified to crush the last host of Reachmen.

A rider went out, behind him flying the banners of House Durrandon, House Celtigar, and House Lannister-- the three kings, united in purpose and filled with terrible resolve.

“His Grace King Durran Durrandon, Thirtieth of His Name; His Grace King Tyrion Lannister, Fifth of His Name; and His Grace King Jacaerys Celtigar, First of His Name, call upon the defenders of Bitterbridge to emerge and parlay. Over Highgarden today flies the lion of Lannister, and your Lord Hightower has retreated to Oldtown to deal with your heretic Avatars.”