"A storm?" Old Walder was startled, his eyes blank. "Not Lannister or Stark armies? How can it be a storm?"
The door was already wide open. Stefflon Frey pointed beyond the stairwell window. Beside Stefflon Frey were several Frey Family guards, their blue steel ring armor and silver-grey cloaks indicating their anxiety. "You'll see if you look. Come on."
No one cared about Lady Josana on the bed. She was a pale, weak young woman, married to Marquess Walder on his ninetieth birthday.
"My lord, my lord, please take me with you," Lady Josana pleaded.
"Find a place to hide yourself, woman," Stefflon said coldly, ignoring her. In the chaos of war, a woman's fate was naturally the worst. Lady Josana's family was merely a knightly noble family from the Riverlands, a vassal of House Frey, and insignificant.
Everything was a mess, and Stefflon could only prioritize his father.
Marquess Walder was hurriedly pulled out of bed, dressed in a simple nightgown. Old Walder heard the shouts from the city of Luanhe, the invading enemies shouting the slogan "long live the storm!" Walder's mind suddenly cleared.
Old Walder saw the Gold Cloaks, those proud taxi soldiers had already overrun the square, and his own main castle was not safe. The Gold Cloaks, gold being one of the stag's colors, the Field of Fire.
Old Walder saw the leading Gold Cloak warrior, whose stature and bravery stood out like a crane among chickens. The blurred ornament on his head truly resembled forked giant antlers, and he was tall, burly, and imposing.
"the mad storm?" Old Walder shouted irritably, as if he had seen a ghost. Robert was called the mad storm reborn, and Old Walder (born in 208) had seen the true the mad storm.
Past memories began to assault him. Old Walder seemed to return to his youth, his beard and hair turning black, the grass green. He seemed to see the laughing deer appear again, that dazzling golden yellow. Lyonel always wore a golden cloth coat, adorned with his family's crowned stag motif, and a stag-antler helmet.
Lyonel was considered by Old Walder's generation as one of the finest warriors of his time, bringing glory to House Baratheon. Lyonel habitually laughed loudly, which earned him the nickname "the mad storm" and made him one of the most beloved by commoners.
"Yes," Stefflon Frey nodded.
"Liars, liars," Old Walder wailed. "The brats of House Piper and the Mercenaries betrayed us."
"Come on," Ser Stefflon Frey led the way, having the guards escort them away.
The group descended the spiral staircase but encountered several other silver-grey robed soldiers rushing up from below, carrying the scent of blood.
"Get out of the way, don't block the lord's path! What's your hurry?" Old Walder angrily rebuked them.
"Retreat!" Ser Stefflon shouted, having realized these men meant trouble.
The men in silver-grey robes looked up; it was Marq Piper. "Although Bluebeard stole the glory, my luck isn't bad either. Glad to see you again, Marquess Walder."
Marq was, after all, somewhat limited. Most of his men had gone to find Bluebeard, but a few brave ones had still sought him out in the dark. Ser Marq had also prepared in his room, and only when Luanhe City fell into complete chaos, taking advantage of lax guards, did they manage to escape and don Frey disguises.
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