The "Bitterbridge" is located in the Reach in the southern part of the Westerosi continent. It is the seat and stronghold of House Caswell.
Its most prominent landmark is an ancient stone arch bridge spanning the Mander River — the direct origin of the na "Bitterbridge."
Geographically, Bitterbridge's strategic value lies in the fact that it is the critical crossing point where the "Roseroad" spans the Mander.
The Roseroad is the major artery connecting Highgarden, the capital of the Reach, with King's Landing. Controlling Bitterbridge ans controlling the throat of this vital supply line and troop movent route.
The castle itself is not large, built of stone and timber. However, it is surrounded by flat, open plains, which make the castle's towers appear visually taller than they actually are, allowing excellent observation of approaching enemies.
This vast plain was now a sea of tents. Renly Baratheon's eighty-thousand-strong army was encamped here. Banners blotted out the sky, tents stretched endlessly into the distance.
Eighty thousand soldiers of the Reach were stationed here!
This was the largest army assembled in Westeros in decades.
The rose of the Reach and the banners of countless followers fluttered in the wind.
Several days earlier, Renly had declared to the Seven Kingdoms: he was claiming the throne and taking the title "King of the Storm."
His call to arms spread far and wide: the usurper Joffrey must step down; he would retake King's Landing and the Iron Throne.
At this mont, a grand tourney was being held at Storm's End… to celebrate Renly's coronation and the marriage alliance between Storm's End and Highgarden.
Cheers and roars filled the air.
On the royal dais sat Renly, wearing a king's embroidered robe and a crown. Young and handso, he smiled brilliantly, every gesture radiating confidence and satisfaction.
Beside him sat a beautiful young woman.
She was stunning.
In no way inferior to Cersei Lannister or Sansa Stark.
She had "doe-like gentle eyes," long brown curls cascading lazily over her shoulders, and a smile that was both shy and sweet.
Whenever an exciting mont occurred in the lists, her delicate hand would instinctively cover her mouth, making her appear innocent and lively.
She was Renly's queen — Margaery Tyrell.
The "Little Rose" of Highgarden.
At this mont, her gaze was fixed on the final duel taking place in the arena.
Only two riders remained.
One was her brother, the "Knight of Flowers" Loras Tyrell. He held his lance with elegant poise, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight.
The other was a tall, powerfully built knight, fully encased in heavy armor, his face hidden.
The two horses charged.
Lances collided.
A trendous force struck.
Loras was unhorsed.
The tall knight dismounted with surprising agility for soone wearing such heavy armor. He lunged at Loras, drew a dagger, and flicked open Loras's visor.
The outco was decided.
Loras stared at the gleaming dagger before him and could only concede.
The entire arena erupted in thunderous cheers.
Renly smiled and stood, calling his champion forward to remove his helt.
The knight obeyed.
The mont the helt was removed, everyone froze.
It was the face of a woman.
Except for her large, round blue eyes, every other feature was painfully unattractive. A wide jaw, coarse features, thick lips.
From any angle, she had nothing to do with the word "beauty."
The crowd gasped in shock.
"Brienne!"
"It's that girl from Tarth…"
"Beauty Brienne! Hahaha!"
So called out her na, others laughed mockingly.
The daughter of House Tarth, known as "Beauty Brienne" — of course, it was sarcasm. Mocking her ugly appearance, mocking how unfeminine she was, mocking that she was still unmarried at her age.
Brienne stood there, listening to the jeers, her face showing no emotion.
She had long grown used to it.
Renly raised his hand, signaling for silence.
"Lady Brienne, you have won the championship of the tourney," his voice was loud and warm. "As champion, you may ask for anything you desire."
Brienne dropped to one knee.
Her voice was low and firm, with a slight tremor.
"Your Grace, I request… to remain by your side. To beco one of your Rainbow Guard, to stay by you at all tis and protect your safety."
The Rainbow Guard was the Storm King's version of the Kingsguard. The difference was that they all wore rainbow cloaks, symbolizing the Storm King's seven-colored banners.
Her words caused an uproar of mockery throughout the arena.
An ugly woman wanted to join the Rainbow Guard?
On what grounds?
But Renly smiled.
He stepped down from the dais and personally helped Brienne to her feet.
"I accept."
The arena fell silent for a mont.
Then Renly removed his own rainbow cloak and draped it over Brienne's shoulders with his own hands.
"From today onward, you are one of my Rainbow Guard."
Tears shimred in Brienne's eyes.
She knelt and solemnly swore her oath.
On the dais, Margaery Tyrell watched the scene, a complex light flashing in her eyes.
At the sa ti, on Dragonstone.
The atmosphere in the council chamber was heavy.
Stannis Baratheon sat at the head of the table, clutching a letter. It was a personal letter from Eddard Stark, promising that the North would fully support Stannis's claim to the Iron Throne.
But another letter made him explode in fury.
It was a secret ssage from the Stormlands: his brother Renly had declared himself king.
"How dare he?!"
Stannis's roar shook the walls.
"Renly! How dare he?! This tradition-breaking, law-defying, ambitious bastard! This is treason!"
His vassals echoed his anger, cursing Renly for his disloyalty and ambition.
"My lord, you should declare yourself king as well!"
"Yes! You are the true heir!"
"We cannot let that traitor succeed!"
Stannis was strongly tempted. He looked at his n, eyes gleaming.
"The ti for decision has co. We cannot let the people of the Seven Kingdoms continue pretending to be deaf and blind…"
"My lord!"
Onion Knight Davos Seaworth couldn't help but interrupt.
"My lord, the Lannisters are the real enemy. Could you… perhaps negotiate a temporary truce with your brother Renly? Join forces against the Lannisters first, then…"
"Never!"
Stannis cut him off sharply.
"I will never negotiate with Renly! Not unless he abandons his claim to the throne!"
Davos grew anxious.
"But my lord, many people are following Renly! Mace Tyrell, Randyll Tarly… those are famous commanders! We have the North as an ally, that's true, but Renly has eighty thousand n! If we fight Storm's End, we'll be falling into Tywin's trap!"
Maester Cressen stepped forward.
This elderly maester had been Stannis's longti advisor and friend. He spoke slowly, his voice old but steady.
"My lord, you are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. However, it is not appropriate to declare yourself king before taking King's Landing and removing the usurper Joffrey."
He paused, then continued, "Our imdiate task is to ally with the North. King's Landing only has six thousand guards and is currently isolated and vulnerable. We should take advantage of the Northern army pinning down the Lannister main force and quickly seize the Stormlands."
Stannis's eyes brightened. He strongly agreed with Maester Cressen.
At that mont, a figure erged from the shadows.
It was a woman.
Her skin was pale, her beauty extraordinary, her figure tall and graceful, with long red hair as brilliant as fla. She wore a red robe, and a crystal pendant shaped like a burning fla hung at her chest.
lisandre.
The Red Priestess.
She parted her red lips, her voice dreamy and hypnotic.
"Lord Stannis is the chosen of the Lord of Light. He need not beg for the support of these lords. He is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai foretold in the prophecies of the Lord of Light — the hero who will save the world when the Long Night cos. The night is dark and full of terrors, but the Lord of Light will help his savior defeat all worldly enemies, and then fight the demons from the North."
Davos couldn't hold back.
"How many ships does the Lord of Light have?"
His question was practical and blunt.
lisandre did not answer. She simply smiled.
Maester Cressen looked at this extrely beautiful and seductive woman. There was no lust in his eyes — only hatred and worry.
Because lisandre had seduced Stannis into abandoning the Seven and turning to this so-called "Lord of Light." She had burned the statues of the Seven on Dragonstone, forced everyone to convert, and had Stannis draw a so-called "Lightbringer" sword from the flas.
In the old maester's eyes, all of this was heresy and charlatanry!
He would not allow Stannis to walk down the wrong path.
That night, in the great hall of Dragonstone.
Everyone was dining in a heavy atmosphere.
Maester Cressen stood up, holding two cups of wine, and walked to Stannis.
"I owe you an apology, Your Grace," his voice was old and sincere. "Serving you is my duty. Yet you have abandoned the Seven and turned to a new god…"
He paused, looking around at everyone, his gaze finally settling on lisandre.
"May the Lord of Light protect us. Let us drink. Lady Priestess, I toast to you. This cup is in honor of the one true god."
Fearing the Red Woman would not drink, he raised his own cup first and drained it.
The mont the wine entered his throat, his expression changed.
He lost his balance, bracing himself on the table, his body swaying.
lisandre looked at him and slowly raised her cup.
She took a sip.
Then she smiled.
"Old man, the night is dark and full of terrors. But the holy fire will cleanse everything."
Maester Cressen's body went limp and collapsed.
He fell onto the table and lay still.
Everyone cried out. So rushed forward to check.
He was already dead.
Poisoned wine.
He had tried to poison lisandre, but had poisoned himself instead.
Or had lisandre used so kind of magic to make the poison only affect him?
No one knew.
Stannis sat there, looking at the old maester's corpse, his face showing no emotion.
lisandre stood behind him, one hand gently resting on his shoulder.
"This is the will of the Lord of Light," her voice was soft as wind. "All obstacles will be cleansed."
The great hall fell into dead silence.
After this incident, lisandre's position grew even stronger.
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