“There is a siege at Fawnton, m’lord,” a Knight of Stonehelm stated, pointing at a map. “Caron men, alongside Dondarrion lads. Marchers, stout folk.”

“Send them word to reduce Fawnton at their earliest convenience,” Ser Robin responded. “It must be accomplished soon. We must set to work liberating the Rainwood, not sitting and waiting for Cafferen traitors to die. Fawnton is an overly organized pile of sticks, take it by storm. What’s next?”

“Lord Estermont’s men have embarked for Stonehelm, so says Lord Estermont himself in a message that arrived this morn,” the Knight replied. “A host gathers at Blackhaven, mostly Lord Dondarrion’s men as yet.”

“This war is a bloody catastrophe,” Ser Robin remarked. “Total disorder. It ends today, my lords. We must take command while Storm’s End stands besieged. Get word to our commanders, and begin the campaign to liberate our homes.”

Ser Robin looked over the map. There was too much red, too many keeps marked as fallen. He made no mistake about it, the Stormlands was in a dire place. It was not fallen, though, Storm’s End still stood alongside the Rainwood and the Marches. There was hope, it just required a shepherd-- and the King had placed his trust in Ser Robin to be that shepherd.

“Let’s move, lads,” Ser Robin said after reflecting on the map. He pointed out two knights. “You, to Fawnton. You, to Blackhaven. You leave tonight.”