Chapter 76: Fall of Highgarden

The days following Paxter's reluctant decision to send only a fraction of his fleet to Highgarden were tense, filled with hushed conversations in the halls of his keep and the relentless pounding of hammers in the shipyards. Everyone at the Arbor knew that war was upon them, but none felt its weight more than Paxter Redwyne.

He sat at the head of his council chamber, staring down at a map of the Reach, his fingers tracing the line between the Arbor and Highgarden. The thought of Olenna standing alone in her castle, knowing her end was near, unsettled him. She had been the architect of the Tyrells' rise to power, the woman behind the throne, the force that held the Reach together. And now, she was surrounded.

"She must know this is the end," Mina said softly, as if reading his thoughts. She stood beside him, scanning the latest reports from their scouts. "Olenna was never one to be blind to reality."

Paxter exhaled through his nose, shifting his gaze away from the map. "She knows." His voice was quiet, firm. "And she knows I will not save her."

The admission tasted bitter on his tongue, though he had long accepted it as necessary.

Ser Martyn, standing on the opposite side of the table, cleared his throat. "My lord, the fleet has set sail. Our captains understand the orders. They will assist in evacuating as many of Highgarden's household as they can, but they will not engage in open battle."

Paxter nodded. "Good. Our duty is fulfilled."

Alistair, the steward of the Arbor, leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "My lord, Olenna may not hold Highgarden much longer, but what happens when she falls? If Tarly takes Highgarden for the Lannisters, he will not stop there."

"That is why we must be ready," Paxter said. He motioned to the map, pointing to their key trade routes and naval strongholds. "We must reinforce our position before the Lannisters turn their attention to us. They will want the Arbor's wealth. They will expect us to kneel. But they will find we are not so easily bent."

Mina folded her arms. "And if they try to take us by force?"

Paxter's lips curled into a cold smile. "Then they will see why House Redwyne has dominated the seas for centuries."

Mina returned the smile, but there was something calculating in her gaze. "We should remind our allies of that, then. Braavos, the Free Cities, and the North—they all need to know that House Redwyne will not be easily subdued."

Paxter turned to Alistair. "Draft letters to our allies. Emphasize that the Arbor remains independent and strong. Remind them that trade with us is far more beneficial than war against us."

Alistair bowed. "At once, my lord."

Ser Martyn shifted uneasily. "And what of the Reach, my lord? The smaller houses will be looking for a new leader when the Tyrells fall."

Paxter considered this for a long moment. "We do not move yet," he said finally. "If we declare ourselves too soon, Tarly will see us as a direct threat. We let him and the Lannisters do the work of consolidating power, and when the Reach begins to crumble under their rule, we step in—not as conquerors, but as saviors."

Mina nodded approvingly. "Let them bleed themselves dry first. Then we make our move."

Paxter pushed himself up from the table, running a hand through his hair as he let out a weary sigh. "We prepare for every outcome. No matter what happens at Highgarden, we will ensure that House Redwyne not only survives but thrives."

The meeting adjourned, and as his council filed out of the room, Paxter remained behind, staring at the flickering candlelight reflecting off the map.

This was the true cost of leadership. Decisions that felt like betrayals. Strategies that relied on patience rather than action. But if he had learned anything from Olenna, it was that survival was not won with sentiment—it was won with calculation.

For now, Olenna fought alone.

And soon, she would die alone.

The first reports came two days later.

Paxter stood on the docks of the Arbor as a storm brewed on the horizon, the wind lashing at the sails of the ships anchored in the bay. The messenger, a young man covered in dust from the road, bowed deeply before handing over a sealed letter.

Paxter broke the wax seal and scanned the parchment. The words were brief, but they told him everything he needed to know.

Highgarden had fallen.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the knowledge settle. The greatest seat of the Reach, a fortress that had stood unconquered for centuries, was now in the hands of the Lannisters. Olenna had not fled. She had remained within the walls of her ancestral home until the very end.

She had chosen to die a Tyrell rather than live as a captive.

Mina read over his shoulder, her lips pressing into a thin line. "It's done, then."

Paxter let out a slow breath. "Yes."

They did not speak of it further. There was nothing to say. Olenna had chosen her fate, and he had chosen his.

But in that moment, as he stood with the letter in hand, the war felt more real than ever before.

That evening, Paxter gathered his most trusted advisors in his private solar. Candles flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows across the room.

"We must assume that Tarly will consolidate his power quickly," Paxter said, pacing in front of the hearth. "He will move against any house that opposed him—and that includes us."

Ser Martyn folded his arms. "If they march against us, my lord, the fleet will be our greatest advantage. They cannot besiege the Arbor if they cannot reach it."

Mina, ever pragmatic, leaned forward. "But we must prepare for other forms of warfare as well. Economic pressure. Political maneuvering. The Lannisters do not need to take the Arbor by force if they can cut off our trade."

Paxter nodded. "That is why we must secure our allies now. Braavos must understand that the Lannisters' hold on the Reach is not permanent. If we continue to supply the Free Cities, we will have leverage when the time comes to challenge them."

Alistair cleared his throat. "There is one more matter, my lord. With Highgarden fallen, the lesser houses of the Reach are leaderless. Some will bend the knee to Tarly. Others will look for an alternative."

Paxter's eyes darkened. "And we will be that alternative."

Silence filled the room. It was the first time he had said it out loud, though they had all known it was coming.

Mina was the first to speak. "If we do this, we must move carefully. We cannot be seen as usurpers—we must be seen as protectors."

Paxter looked around at the faces of his advisors. "The Reach is not Tarly's to rule. House Redwyne has always stood for prosperity, for stability. And if the lords of the Reach wish to survive, they will see that we are their best chance at both."

Ser Martyn smirked. "Then I suppose we should start making friends."

Paxter exhaled, his mind racing with possibilities. Highgarden was gone. Olenna was dead. And the war for the Reach was just beginning.

He turned to Mina, his voice low but steady.

"Send out the ravens."

The game had changed.

And House Redwyne was ready to claim its place.