“Down this way?” Ser Robin asked, stepping through the kitchens behind a Horpe man, a younger knight wearing a surcoat emblazoned with a moth. Ser Lyn was his name, or so he claimed, and it was Ser Lyn who lead the Knight of the Parchments to the entrance to this tunnel.

Ser Lyn nodded and gestured to a door. “Aye, ser, down through here. Be careful on the steps.”

“Thank you,” Ser Robin replied, starting down them. It seemed Lord Horpe’s men had lit the way, as new torches hung in the old mounts driven into the stone walls. The stairs were narrow and switched back three times before at last he heard the beating of Shipbreaker Bay on solid stone.

Emerging into the light of day Ser Robin noted a rickety old rowboat, one which needed some repair-- beside it half a dozen men working at reinforcing the walls and ceiling. The smell of salt water assaulted his nose, and he felt the spray blown up the tunnel with every new wave to crash against the walls. The sound thundered through the tunnels, each echo building off the last until it seemed that Durran Godsgrief had trapped an entire storm beneath his castle. After it all faded in time for the next wave to strike.

“What news?” Ser Robin asked, looking for a senior man. A taller lad turned about, his own hair thinning at the crown of his head.

“Who’re you?” the tall man asked.

Ser Robin introduced himself.

The tall man planted his hands on his hips. “Aye, Ser Robin Penrose. We been clearing this tunnel for a few days now, hard work but rewarding if Lord Gerold has anything to say about it. Might be the King thanks us for it.”

“Might be,” Ser Robin agreed, stepping forward and peering about the walls. As with the rest of Storm’s End’s construction it was stout and immovable, a relief. He turned his attention to the boat. “What of this? Where did you find it?”

“‘Twas here,” the tall man said. “Nobody knows how old it is, but it looks pretty old.”

“I’ll have a look at it,” Ser Robin said, filing it away on the list of things that needed doing. “Keep at your work, lads, I have business upstairs to attend to first.”

After ascending from the tunnels Ser Robin thought for a moment on the King. Could he know of these tunnels, and did he intend to utilize them? Raymont had been a savant where it came to war, tactics came to him better than any man in the realm-- but Ser Robin liked to think that men of House Penrose wore the quill on their arms for a reason. In some circumstances thought could beat might, and he wondered if perhaps this was such a time.

Evacuating the women and children from Storm’s End seemed necessary. More mouths to feed meant fewer soldiers went fed, and with so many men besieged here every morsel was worth its weight in gold. With the King’s household and any other womenfolk removed they might extend the time they could remain besieged by some amount, however small.

He resolved to speak with the King, if the King would hear him out. Swallowing his nerves at the proposition, Ser Robin made his way towards the great hall, a cavernous room in its own right. He sought out some man of the Baratheon household who looked sufficiently important and addressed him.