Chapter 86: Robert 2
293AC
Robert smiled as he saw the coast of Essos come into sight, a smooth white beach that seemed to run back a few hundred feet before rising into enormous rocky cliffs. It reminded him of the Stormlands, and he smiled slightly, turning to his brother, who had joined the fleet at last when they had come south from white-harbor to make the crossing. "It seems that the Seven are with us, perhaps all the High-Septons prattling about destroying the Red Heathens might have some value to it."
His dour brother sighed, glancing towards the coastline. "Perhaps, but then perhaps not." Stannis turned to the other man in their little cluster, a Pentoshi Emissary by the name of Elnoro Rivia, "That is the flatlands wall yes?"
"Aye my lord. We are just north of the Bay of Pentos if you turn your sails south we should be able to pass between the straights in just a few hours."
Robert smiled broadly. "That is good news indeed." He was getting sick of this stupid boat anyhow. "The sooner we get ashore the sooner we can defeat the dames Dragonspawn and go home."
"Indeed your Grace." The man said, nodding slightly. "And might I say that the army you bring is most impressive, we Essosi hardly ever see so much cavalry, saver for the Khalasars of the Dothraki. Even Qohor in the east could not assemble such a force."
"Well, that's what a knight is. A good man and his good horse." Robert chuckled, he had earned his own knighthood at a young age, but then he was a Baratheon, and they were all large and powerful as a rule. "There were many such men in Westeros, and it seemed all of them wanted to join my army, at least once the High Septon got to talking." Robert chuckled at that, the army he led might not be the greatest ever fielded in Westeros, indeed the Reach alone could field men in greater numbers, but it was likely the most knightly. Of the thirty-eight thousand that had answered his call, perhaps a full twenty-thousand were knights or mounted squires and men at arms. A force of cavalry to shatter any army in the world.
"Well, we are glad to have your aid." The envoy said, gesturing south towards the city, though it would be hours before they reached it. "Pentos is not allowed to field a proper army of its own by treaty with Bravos, so we only have a militia to call up against Volantis, the council of Magisters hopes that in assisting you we can still make our contribution felt."
"Certainly, certainly," Robert said, patting the man on the back. It was good to have allies here, it would be far easier than shipping food and supplies from Westeros after all, and freed up the fleet for Stannis to pursue other ends.
Even as he thought of him, his dour brother spoke, gesturing towards the rock face. "There are riders shadowing our movements atop the cliffs. Are they yours?"
"Ours or Braavosi, most likely. This stretch of coast is ostensibly a region of shred dominion, but the Braavosi enjoy reminding us that we were forced to give up its ownership."
"Mhm." His brother ground out. "Their fleet is docked at Pentos yes?"
"It should be if all is moving to schedule yes. You should be able to sail south and relieve Lys as soon as the army is ashore."
Robert glanced at Stannis. His brother seemed to be thinking something over on his head, but with his face as unmoving as a rock there was no way to know for sure. Come to think of it, he had never actually fought beside Stannis before. His brother had been at Storm's End when they were fighting the rebellion and had taken Great Wyk instead of aiding at Pyke. Now once again it seemed that they would be broken up, with Stannis heading south to relieve the Island City of its siege by the Volantene armada.
'Odd that.'
Either way it mattered little though, with the Royal Fleet and the Braavosi one combined there was no way that his reliable sibling could lose. Not to mention that his nephew's ships came armed with those odd cannons of his, and his brother had been very confident in them when he spoke.
Overall the trip so far had been pleasant if anything, Ned was on one of the other two Galleons, but they had still seen more of each other than they had in years, and while Joffrey had taken to getting seasick like the little shite he was, the boy had already started acting a bit less of a brat without his mother to goad him on. Though only a bit. The habits she gave him, Robert suspected, were deeply planted in his son's mind.
'Cursed woman.'
Without his mother clinging to him like a greasy hen, he had actually been able to get the boy into sparring with him a few times. What he saw was disappointing, a weak sword arm, even for a boy his age. No concept of balance, of stance. Thankfully however there was some hope, once actually challenged, and without a chance to flee to his mother's arms, the boy learned quickly enough. Indeed, he might be a great swordsman like his uncle one day, if only he could be kept away from his mother's grasping fingers long enough to learn.
'But then…' Robert couldn't do it himself, she was still his Queen even if she was a dumb whore, but there were opportunities elsewhere…
He turned his eyes to the Galleon Ned was on the Morning Glory. A plan was quickly starting to come together in his head. Hadn't he himself been fostered by Jon Arran in his youth? Yes… between the cat and the beaten servants, his son could do with a bit more honor.
A smile crossed Robert Baratheon's face as the other possibilities of placing the boy to be fostered with the Starks dawned on him. 'It will be good for the boy after all.'
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