Chapter 72: Lady Olenna 3

The days following the victory at Bitterbridge passed in a whirlwind of activity. Soldiers repaired the damaged fortifications, the wounded were tended to, and emissaries were sent north with samples of Arbor Reserve. The sense of relief that had followed the enemy's retreat was beginning to fade, replaced by the pressing need to secure House Redwyne's future in a world still at war.

Paxter Redwyne stood on the balcony of Bitterbridge's keep, looking out over the rolling fields that stretched toward the horizon. The sun was setting, casting the landscape in shades of gold and amber, but despite the beauty of the scene, Paxter's mind was consumed by thoughts of strategy and survival. The victory here had been important, but it had also come at a steep cost. Supplies were running low, and Olenna Tyrell's demands were growing more insistent by the day.

Mina approached from behind, her soft footsteps barely audible. She came to stand beside Paxter, her expression calm but thoughtful. "The emissaries have left for Winterfell," she said, her voice low. "They should arrive within a fortnight, provided they don't run into trouble along the way."

Paxter nodded, though his gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "Good. The sooner we can secure trade agreements with the North, the better. If the northern lords take to Arbor Reserve, it could open up new markets for us. We need that income if we're going to maintain our independence from Highgarden."

Mina studied him for a moment, then spoke again, her tone measured. "You're worried about Olenna's next move."

Paxter sighed, leaning on the balcony's stone railing. "I am. She's pressing us harder with each passing day. Her forces were crucial in winning this battle, but she's making it clear that we're expected to repay that debt—and more. If we're not careful, House Redwyne will become just another pawn in her game."

Mina's eyes narrowed slightly as she considered his words. "We could refuse her demands outright. Distance ourselves from the Tyrells and strike out on our own."

Paxter shook his head. "Not yet. The Tyrells are still too powerful, and we're not in a position to challenge them directly. But we can't allow Olenna to bleed us dry, either. That's why securing new trade agreements is so important. If we can generate enough income from other sources, we'll have leverage when the time comes to renegotiate with her."

Mina nodded, understanding the delicate balance they had to maintain. "I'll keep a close eye on the negotiations with the North. If we can establish a strong trade presence there, it will give us the breathing room we need."

Paxter's thoughts drifted momentarily to the North—cold, distant, and stubborn. But the northern lords were practical men, and if Arbor Reserve appealed to them, it would not only bring in wealth but also create political connections that could prove valuable in the future. Winterfell's influence in the realm had grown in recent years, and Paxter was not blind to the potential advantages of aligning with the Starks.

As the last light of day faded from the sky, casting the world in shadow, Paxter turned away from the view. "What of our other ventures?" he asked, his mind returning to the broader picture. "How are the negotiations with Volantis progressing?"

Mina's expression brightened slightly at the mention of Volantis. "They're going well. The Volantenes are eager for more ships, and they've agreed to extend the spice trade deal in exchange for an increased supply of vessels from our shipyards. They're even offering to reduce the tariffs on goods entering Volantis, which could open up new markets for our wines and other exports."

Paxter felt a rare flicker of satisfaction. The deal with Volantis had been a gamble, but it was paying off. The spice trade, combined with the potential success of Arbor Reserve, could provide the financial cushion House Redwyne desperately needed. And with Volantis eager to secure more ships, Paxter knew he had leverage in future negotiations.

"Good," Paxter said. "Keep pressing them for better terms. The more favorable the deal, the more we can expand our influence in Essos. If the Free Cities see us as a reliable partner, we'll have options beyond the reach of Highgarden and King's Landing."

Mina inclined her head. "I'll continue the negotiations. And there's something else—there's been interest from Braavos. Some of the merchant houses there have expressed curiosity about Arbor Reserve. If we can establish trade with Braavos as well, we could find ourselves in a very advantageous position."

Braavos. The Iron Bank's home and a city known for its wealth and influence. Paxter's mind raced with the possibilities. Trade with Braavos would not only bring in gold but also offer political connections that could be invaluable in the future. The Iron Bank was a force to be reckoned with, and having a foot in their city could give House Redwyne an edge in the ever-shifting game of thrones.

"Pursue it," Paxter said decisively. "If Braavos is interested, we'll make sure they get the best samples of Arbor Reserve. And if they like what they see, we'll negotiate terms that benefit us."

Mina smiled faintly. "I'll send word immediately."

As she turned to leave, Paxter found himself once again alone with his thoughts. The winds of change were blowing, and Paxter could feel the shifting currents of power around him. The war was far from over, and the alliances he built now would determine the future of House Redwyne.

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Later that evening, Paxter sat in his solar, reviewing a series of letters and missives from various houses in the Reach. The mood was tense; the war had drained resources and tested the loyalty of even the most steadfast allies. Many lords were looking to secure their own positions, their loyalty wavering between the Tyrells and whichever faction appeared strongest at any given moment.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Ser Martyn Harte entered, his face grave as always.

"My lord, we've received word from Highgarden," Ser Martyn said, handing Paxter a sealed letter. "It's from Lady Olenna."

Paxter's expression darkened as he broke the seal and scanned the letter's contents. Olenna's words were as sharp as ever, though cloaked in the flowery language of politics. She was pressing for more ships to support her forces and demanding an increased share of the profits from Redwyne exports to help fund the Tyrell campaigns. It was clear that Olenna saw House Redwyne as a valuable resource—and one that could be exploited for her own ends.

Paxter set the letter down, his hands tightening into fists. "Olenna is tightening her grip. She wants more from us, more ships, more gold. She thinks she can use us to fund her ambitions."

Ser Martyn's brow furrowed. "What will you do, my lord? We can't afford to anger Lady Olenna, but we can't allow her to drain our coffers, either."

Paxter leaned back in his chair, his mind working through the possibilities. Olenna was powerful, but her power came from her ability to control the flow of resources in the Reach. If Paxter could establish independent trade routes, new markets, and alliances beyond the Tyrells, he could free himself from her influence.

"We'll honor her demands for now," Paxter said, his voice calm but firm. "But only just enough to keep her satisfied. We'll continue to expand our trade with Volantis and Braavos, and once we have new income flowing in from the North, we'll be in a much stronger position."

Ser Martyn nodded, though his concern was evident. "And if she presses harder?"

Paxter's eyes hardened. "Then we'll remind her that House Redwyne isn't just a source of wealth for Highgarden. We're a power in our own right, and we won't be bled dry for someone else's war."

As Ser Martyn left the room, Paxter remained seated, his thoughts already turning to the future. The world was changing, and the war was creating both challenges and opportunities. But one thing was certain: Paxter Redwyne would not allow his house to be swept aside in the chaos.

He would play the game of thrones on his terms, and in the end, House Redwyne would not just survive—it would thrive.