It was Quentyn's turn to panic.
"ACHILLES! MOVE!" Quentyn almost begged, while his companions were just as horrified as him.
The frog didn't do as his master commanded. Instead, it stayed still and croaked once.
The blade came down.
...
There was a third shriek, even more horrifying than the first two. This time, it didn't seem like a screech of rage or terror, this was a screech of pain. A pain of the like of which he had never heard. No human being could ever scream like this.
The blade came down, and as it hit Quentyn's frog, the shadow withered away, as if broken into a hundred smaller pieces, which faded away into the wind.
By the time he had taken out his hammer, though, the shadow had disappeared, and the frog was still there, unconcerned with anything that was happening around it.
Suddenly, it was chaos. Two more guards entered the room, and saw the carnage. One of the Reacher knights was also on the floor, having fainted, while everyone in attendance was pale, with Lady Catelyn spewing her guts in the corner, watching blood starting to pool around Lady Brienne's body.
Quentyn's eyes darted to the snake, who sent him a reassuring glance, with both of them breathing a sigh of relief.
Ser Loras was the first one to react, rushing to his king's side in tears. Quentyn was quick to follow, with Arch right behind him.
The prince quickly looked down on Renly Baratheon. The king was a mess. His armor had been pierced through and through, and he was losing heaps of blood rapidly.
"He's breathing…" Quentyn whispered to Arch. "He's still alive…we can save him."
Quentyn made to take off his armor and reached in his doublet but Ser Loras quickly drew his sword and pointed it at the prince.
"GET BACK YOU FILTHY DORNISHMAN!" he screamed with tears in his eyes. "YOU WOULD LOOK TO HARM RENLY? YOU WOULD STRIKE HIM WHEN HE IS ALREADY DOWN, YOU SWINE?"
Instinctively, Arch readied his hammer.
"You fool, I'm trying to keep him alive!" Quentyn shouted back. "The love of your life is still alive but he's not going to be for long if you don't let me fucking help him!"
In the meantime, a few men had entered the tent, and looked to Ser Emmon.
The man was also as white as a sheet and kept repeating the same phrase.
"Kinslayer. Kinslayer. Kinslayer."
"Stannis did this!" another man cried out
"Foul magic! Blood magic!" were the words of another
"GULIAN!" Quentyn shouted over the commotion caused by the irruption of more than a few men inside the tent. "GET QYBURN! NOW!"
The heir to Sandstone quickly nodded and rushed out, pushing everyone away whilst he did so. However, Ser Loras still had his sword pointed at Quentyn's face.
"Don't be stupid, Ser Loras." Quentyn begged. "We don't have much time. Help me take off his armor and treat his wound or he's going to bleed out in front of your eyes!"
The Tyrell boy hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, allowing for Nym and Lucian to come closer along with Ser Emmon and a few other lords who had just entered the tent.
Finally, Ser Loras sheathed his sword. Whether he trusted Quentyn or not was irrelevant, Arch thought, he had to save his king first.
The pair quickly took off Renly's armor and vest. And…it was messy to say the least. The king had received a wound in the middle of the chest, and it was gaping on both sides. He was losing a lot of blood.
"Shit…" Quentyn whispered as he pulled out bandages from his doublet.
The prince quickly shoved the bandages on Renly's chest wound and had water from the pint on Renly's table poured all over it. The stink from the rotting flesh made Arch want to look away, but the prince needed him.
"Do we have powder?" Quentyn asked.
"I have some spare." Lucian gave him a few. It wasn't much, not for a wound that size, but it would have to do.
The prince quickly poured the powder over the wound, causing Renly to wince in pain. That was good news. It meant the king was still alive. And it was enough for the prince's maester or healer to arrive.
The old man looked at the king in shock, and he asked:
"What in the seven hells did that?"
"Magic." Arch replied. "A shadowed blade."
"Interesting." The maester showed no emotion and started patching whatever he could. "Are we trying to keep him alive?"
If looks could kill then Loras Tyrell would have ripped that man apart.
"Now is not the time for jests, Qyburn." The prince frowned. "Get to work."
"The wound is deep." The maester sighed.
"Do your best." Quentyn replied, trying to shove Ser Loras off of the king's body.
"Ser Loras!" Quentyn screamed, the Tyrell boy's arms still trying to attach themselves to his king's. "Let Qyburn work. You have done all you could."
"He needs me…" the boy pleaded.
"I agree but he also needs you to let my healer do his work for him to live. Do you hear me, Ser Loras?"
"Y…yes." The boy stammered while several lords were already discussing what happened with Lady Stark and Ser Emmon.
Arch spared a look for Ser Brienne, whose body was attended to by several Stormlanders. Unfortunately for her, there was nothing to be done.
The blade had slammed into her heart, and she likely had died instantly. Her father would mayhaps take solace in the fact that she likely had died so that her king could live. The Stormlanders were a proud folk after all, and there was no greater death than that to save your king.
Meanwhile Nymeria, Lucian and Gulian approached Quentyn, who was desperately trying to clean Renly's blood off of his hands. The snake rushed to his side and kissed him square on the lips for a brief moment, but with a slight frown on her face.
"I'm glad you're all fine." Quentyn whispered as she broke the short moment.
"And I'm glad you're still in one piece too." the snake nodded. "But what in the seven hells is your frog made of?"
"I…I don't know." Quentyn stammered. "It's just a good luck charm, nothing else…I am as clueless as you are."
The prince picked up his frog, and looked at it. It seemed as if the frog hadn't experienced anything at all, since it was just staring blankly at Quentyn, quickly hopping onto his shoulder.
"It…It just made the shadow shatter like glass…" Lucian gulped. "And that shadow…it had Stannis' face on it. It was him. Don't ask me how, but it was him."
"That red priestess?" Lord Mathis Rowan, who had come to witness the scene, proposed from behind them. "She was at the parlay, and rumors come from the East of such foul magics."
"It has to be." A knight of house Hightower said from behind. "Who else could summon a shadow out of thin air?"
"Heretic, oath-breaker and kinslayer…" a knight of house Morrigen spat out. "I'll be damned if I ever followed such a man."
Arch couldn't agree more with him. Stannis had already admitted to burning down septs, and he had just killed someone with foul magic, and tried to have his brother killed! At the end of the moon's turn, there would be no one, from Sunspear to the Wall, that wouldn't know of what transpired here.
Whether they would believe it…that was another story. Arch could scarcely have believed it if it was told to him in a tale. And yet, he had witnessed it with his own eyes.
A loud groan pulled him out of his reverie, as every single eye in the room turned to the king, who was being helped up by Quentyn's healer. His belly was red with blood and white with bandages, but he was alive. Or at least Arch thought he was.
"I need a bed, milk of the poppy, a dozen bandages and for at least half of the people here to get the fuck out so I can work!" the healer yelled.
Yet, no one heard him, all eyes being on the king's mouth.
The proud stag said nothing for a while, humming what seemed like a children's tune. Then, all of a sudden, his voice cleared and tears rolled down his face.
"Brother." The king's tears flowed freely. "Brother…brother…why?"
The king passed out again, but it seemed as though it was still breathing.
Arch looked around, and all he saw were determined faces.
"There will be battle today." Randyll Tarly said with clenched fists.
"And we shall avenge our king." Mathis Rowan raged.
"DEATH TO THE KINSLAYER!" chanted Richard Morrigen
"DEATH TO THE TRAITOR!" Ser Loras chanted, raising his sword into the air, his voice filled with pure rage.
"DEATH TO THE KINSLAYER! DEATH TO THE TRAITOR! AVENGE RENLY! AVENGE THE CROWNED STAG!" chanted the crowd that had gathered around the tent.
Arch's eyes crossed with that of Lady Catelyn's. Both seemed to be equally amazed and horrified at what was happening. It would seem that there would be a battle today, but it would be very different from the one he had planned on seeing earlier today.
It seemed that there would be little quarter given from Renly's followers.
Far away, a red priestess shook with fear, her face white and her teeth clasping. A would-be king helped her up.
"What is it?" the would-be king asked.
"The Rhoynar…" the red priestess managed to let out, her voice trembling. "The blood of the Rhoynar…"
"What of it?"
"The prince of the Rhoynar…" the red priestess continued. "The prince of the Rhoynar must die."