Kapitel 254: 7
281AC – Part I
The turn of the year finds me again sitting in my solar shifting through my correspondence and struggling to keep everything on course. The last few weeks since I had returned to Rytherstone had been eventful to say the least and I was feeling somewhat stressed to keep on top of things. For now I was managing but it kept me up late into the night more often than not.
I had intended to set out with the patrols myself, leading one of the two groups that was to patrol the coast a hundred miles up and down the coast from my lands...but I just did not have the time to actually go through with it. Jasana pointed this out the very next day after I laid down my plans to her and Wyndal left me feeling a little foolish, but I considered myself pretty open if I was told that no, my idea wasn't that great at all. I would either have a counter argument or reason...or I would take the criticized points, acknowledge them and go on from there.
This time it led to Wallace and Harren each leading one patrol while Shale stayed behind to guard my back. I instead turned my mind to a problem that had – also by Jasana – pointed out to be a little more complicated to solve than I intended and would only grow as my other orders came into effect. I was of course talking about the smouldering unrest within the population with northern and southern values clashing more often than I would have liked. After mulling it over for a few days I changed tactics and threw myself completely into the public relations business for a few months.
Till now I had always been trying to 'convert' the new arrivals to be as similar to their northern neighbors as they could be...but should I really have been doing this? It created more problems than it solved as I was forcing a change that was neither welcome, nor wanted. If I looked at White Harbor where something similar had led to a city mostly worshipping the Seven within a land that mostly looked to the Old Gods for guidance, yet nothing bad came of it.
Going from there I instead searched my mind for ideas to create a new 'identity' instead of beating a sizeable part of my population over the head with the values of the other one. What I came up with had Jasana shaking her head in wonder, never having heard of many of my concepts and ideas before. How could she? I had borrowed and in many cases outright stolen heavily from modern ideas and actions, hoping to forge a greater whole that while still part of the north was at least somewhat different.
First I had changed the archery competition a little after getting told by Harren that most smallfolk would either not be in the possession of a good quality bow or not being able to pay for one, indirectly keeping them from the competition even if they were not officially barred from it. Acknowledging the point I ordered a training range to be set up outside the castle's walls with fifty bows held in storage. Everybody above the age of fourteen, male and female, would be allowed to use the range up to twelve hours a week if using a borrowed bow. If you had one of your own you could use the range at any time without restriction. One of Wyndals aides would be keeping track of bookings and that no weapon would disappear on me. Giving my smallfolk the opportunity to practise was one thing, actually permanently arming them if not marching to war another. I might have done it anyway but Harren had pointed out that many a lord had fallen to their own people...and that it might bring some discontent from other nobles. The first I might have risked but the second I would not do at this point in time, knowing that my policies and actions would strain relations enough as it was.
The archery competition would also be expanded by a group tournament where teams of ten would be competing against each other with ten dragons going to the winning team to share equally. They would also be honoured by their names – and the name of their team – being placed at a place of honour in my hall and in a public place somewhere in Rytherport. Wasn't sure where that would be to be truthful, but I intended the 'honour' to be a sort of wandering trophy that would only belong to the winning team for a year. I hoped to channel the rivalry between old and new inhabitants into a healthy competition instead of them focussing on old grievances. Already half a dozen teams had formed with all but one being exclusively made of either southern or northern smallfolk. The last one had a mixed heritage where an enterprising youth had put together his team by ability instead of heritage – I expected them to do quite well and lead by example. If they won as I hoped this would lead to others going the same way, integrating south and north into a greater whole at least a little bit.
For a while I had mulled over recreating a league and inventing sports like football, soccer or something like that...but I had regretfully shelved the idea for now as much as I had always liked watching the games. Establishing an unknown game in an already difficult situation seemed like too much of a risk and also too much work to be worth it to me. Better to go with what was already known and adapt it a little.
The steady competition between the teams had also led to another development I could watch from my castle quite easily. Many smallfolk had taken to watching the different archers practise in their free time – what little there was – which yet another enterprising youth had used to set up a small betting ring. I allowed it and even made it official with a tenth of the profits going to my vaults. The bank always wins as they say.
This also led to small food carts jumping out of nowhere, literally from one day to the next. Without meaning to, I had created a place of relaxation with a slight fair feeling to it. It greatly reduced tensions as my smallfolk talked, drank and ate while their favoured teams trained and unofficially also already competed on the range. I could only shake my head at having – again – lucked my way to success with consequences I had not considered. Not that I told this to anybody, acting as if it had been my goal from the start. The betting pool had doubled as a sort of league by the third week, the offered odds reflecting where the different teams stood within the ranking. Jasana had only shaken her head and turned to tax the other vendors as well, a slight knowing smirk on her face.
Another thing I had done before sending the patrols out again was a public ceremony where I honoured those of my men that had survived the wildling venture and the fight with the ironborn as well, having been with me from the first day. Each had received a silver coin as a token of my thanks in addition to a beautifully done ribbon interleaved with bronze and the stylized number 280 woven into it. The medal analogue had cost me more than the money I handed them but it also had a far greater impact. Being acknowledged as able warriors and trusted by their lord with them actually being able to prove it – with the ribbon – was something every last one of them took great pride in. For me it was a win win, really. They got bragging rights and would motivate others to try their best as well and earn something likewise. I got a boost in loyalty that I very much needed after the losses I had taken, at very little cost at that, and would have a far easier time recruiting for my armed forces in the future. I was just glad that the idea of medals was still new and increased the impact even more.
The last thing I did was a more solemn ceremony where I unveiled a great slab of stone in a beautiful and peaceful clearing in the woods close to Rytherstone, a stone obelisk next to it marking the center of the clearing with the words `Gone but not Forgotten – always vigilant` being prominently displayed upon it in all directions. Chiselled into the stone slab with a lot of space left over were the names of all the men that had fallen into my service in addition to the year and the battle they had died in. Centrally placed in the middle of the stone the first men runes for protection, remembrance and peace had been inlaid with bronze at my behest, another thing that cost me a pretty penny but looked impressive indeed. Gathering the names had actually been the most difficult part of setting up the memorial – another concept that was strangely almost completely new to Westeros. In addition half a dozen stone benches had been placed all around the clearing. I had also ordered that no tree would be cut down within a hundred yards of the clearing, leaving it as a place of quiet and peace even if Rytherport continued to grow as it was.
Many had visited the clearing after I had unveiled it and my reputation with the smallfolk had exploded in consequence. Not even the slight favouring of northern culture by using first men runes impacted this any. For some reason I seemed to be one of the first if not the first lord that honoured the deeds not only of the warriors that survived but also of those that died fighting for me. My men also looked at me with a new look of respect, knowing that they would not be forgotten even if they fell in my service. Wyndal had been hard at work taking every name into his books, of which I had to order more empty ones as he was running out quickly and much to his ire as his hand was cramping in pain most days. His assistants suffered through his moods because of it and learned their letters all the harder, hoping to escape the grouchy man if they could take off some of the load.
I also had somehow gathered my first moniker from the action as the stone tablet - the `Namestone` - had been made of dark rock or black stone, which they had mixed and adapted a little with the the way i had been doing things and been acting. From now on I would be able to present myself as Darren "Blackhand" Ryther, had I cared to do so. Not that I would escape it, I suspected. Such things had the tendency to take on a life of their own as people such as Brynden "Blackfish" Tully had experienced already. I really had no influence on it and would likely only have made it worse should I have tried.
So I simply didn't and instead owned the name, appearing with black parts in my armour if moving around outside of the castle. I had also commissioned another armour which would also be black and grey intended to make an impression, a sort of show armour while not forgetting the actual usability of it. Having an armour that could not be used would be counterproductive and then some in the north, while it might have worked beautifully in the south.
It would be some time before the commission was ready, anyway. My smith had far too much to do and could not invest the time to forge an armour to my specifications for a while yet. I was in no hurry of course, having perfectly serviceable armour as it was. The only thing I changed was to add two black pauldrons – practical ones, not those monsters that fan wanking often lead to – with the runes used on the memorial carved into it clearly visible to all. I had them also added to my doublet and some other often used pieces of armour and cloth.
Of course all this – from the award ceremony over the armour changes to the surprise fair and memorial – took time and before I knew it I had spent three month scrambling to get my feet back on the earth in a world gone crazy. My patrols had returned trice during this period, never having spotted any trouble. My ships had returned once to resupply, having driven off one longship that fled as soon as they got into sight. The ironborn had disappeared from my mens sight quickly, being far better sailors in comparison. Since then no more reavers had been sighted and I was again happy that a direct confrontation of any sort had been avoided this time around. While my men were motivated they still lacked much of the training I felt needed for any sort of sea battle. But as it seems being present alone would be enough to keep the peace – for now. If you could speak of peace while being in the middle of a rebellion, that is.
Seaguard and White Harbor would send sailors in time, the Riverland city because they had more than they could use and the northern metropolis would do it as a favor. I felt my hackles rise as I pictured what might be demanded in return down the line but I had little choice but to accept anyway as I needed those men – now more so than ever before. It would be some weeks before the different parties arrived so I put it out of my mind for now, knowing that I had more immediate things to deal with and that worrying over if's and would be's did no one any good.
Merchant ships continued to arrive every now and then, nearly always depositing a few dozen refugees on my shores to be taken care of and integrated. The population continued to rise quickly in consequence and the powder keg I had been sitting on just might have exploded had I not invested my all in smoothing things out over the last months. In addition to people the merchants brought news from the south that was verified by raven, the rebellion slogging along as it had in the books even if somewhat slower.
Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark had recovered from their injuries while Hoster Tully had died of his, leaving Brynden "Blackfish" Tully to act as a regent to his nephew Edmure until he came of age. While painful for the moment I hoped that the change in guardianship would lead to the young lord paramount in spé being a lot more competent than he had been shown in the show. I least I hopef that the Blackfish would be able to impart at least some sense into the guy. What had been shown of him in the books really wasn´t something to write home about.
By now the battered but somewhat recovered rebel army would have reached kings landing even if I had not yet heard any news beyond that. The Lannisters were said to be on the move as well, with Tywin heading the marching army. I expected the sack to happen despite the beating the rebel alliance had taken, knowing that the Lannister lord had a lot of beef with the current king and that he could hold grudges like the dwarves of legend. I pause at the thought for a moment and chuckle while shaking my head with a wry smile, better not to make that comparison where he would hear about it.
Interesting to note was that Eddard Stark had split from the army with a few score men, going off to parts unknown while leaving the leadership of the army to the other three highborn lords. Even if I did not know how he could know, I strongly suspected that he was heading for the Tower of Joy. Hopefully Stannis would be able to hold out coming behind Lyanna in the order of things. Butterflies over butterflies. At the speed this was going my foreknowledge would be all but useless before long, better to make most of it as long as I could.
As such I was spending money like water, reducing my new found – literally – wealth at an alarming rate. Two more trading cogs would join my fleet with their crews, having bought both from Seaguard at a price of one hundred and fifty gold dragons apiece – a discount having been granted because of their advanced age. Interestingly enough the ships had initially belonged to the same owner my other recently ship had, the man – one Jothor Bracken – having fallen afoul with justise at some point over the last month. It seems he had been drabbling in slavery on the side which had been received poorly by the Westerosi nobility once discovered. The Mallisters had sized his ships at once and shortened him by a head, not even entertaining the notion of granting him the option of the Wall. Some practices were just universally despised. The cost of the cogs had made me wince nontheless but I needed the ships to stabilize my economical situation just as much as house Mallister needed the gold to stabilize theirs. By now I was so deeply into the red that it wasn't funny anymore with my books all but bleeding, but I would and could shoulder on for another two or three years before I was completely broke.
At least I could have if I had not bought a war galley from Seaguard, intending it to be the flagship of my budding fleet – costing me as much as four cogs would have. Yes, you heard that right. I managed to procure a long serving war galley from the Mallisters that while old was still in good condition and would come with crew even though I would – of course – source the soldiers needed to man it from my own people. Everything else would just have been plain stupid. I did not know or ask who built the ship or where it came from, for I had been surprised that the noble houses of Seaguard had one to sell in the first place. I would change the external markers enough as soon as it arrived that I felt safe enough using it without drawing the ire of eventual former owners the riverlanders may or may not have told me about. I simply would need more forces on the open seas and captured longships were not going to cut it for much longer if I was forced to continue my guard of the western coast. Even more so with all the changes I see ripping the timeline known to me more to pieces with every passing day and that the fact that relying just on static defences in the caste for ironborn attack was just stupid. The work on another dock specifically for this ship had already been started. This venture would cut the time to my bankruptcy down by nearly a year...if I did not manage to find other sources of income in that timeframe.
Strangely this didn't actually worry me at all, much to the consternation of Jasana and Wyndal. Of the nobility in Westeros nobody seemed to understand that hoarding gold like a dragon while feeling very nice was just not good sense, with trice damned Littlefinger being the sole exception I knew about. That reminded me, I really should see if I could find a way to warn the important figures like Eddard Stark and Jon Arryn of that man's nature without being obvious about it. I tabled the thought for another day, knowing that at least with this there was no hurry. I hoped so at least, already seeing the timeline going off the rails with alarming speed. But who knew, this might actually make the situation better in this case if Littlefinger got off'd somewhere along the road or some other butterfly put an end to the man.
One of the main uses of having money – as I explained to my wife multiple times – was to make money for which the same had to be invested. Sure, my treasury was taking a brutal beating right now but in time the flow would reverse itself and offer me the opportunity to invest in even bigger projects in turn. The trick was to remain affluent just long enough for the returns to come in and balance the books before the bottom fell out.
Both of my advisor's, for that was what they had effectively turned into, looked at me with a healthy dose of scepticism as I explained the method to my madness and the underlying reasons but I would show them. In time, at least. For now I was lord and they were not, forcing them to bow to my 'whims' even though they all felt like I was running cheerily to my doom. Jasana especially had made her displeasure known by banning me from our chambers for a few days, only leaving me back as I showed no sign of breaking after a week of exile. I had explained to her yet again why I was doing what I was doing and even prepared some number games in advance to show that it would work. She remained sceptical but at least I was allowed back into my bed, my back thanking me more than anything else.
For now I would shoulder on and invest into what I thought best, which was roughly half into my economic future and half into fortifications of the stone, ship or people sort. My new men at arms that had been recruited to make up for the losses suffered during the last campaign were already hard at work being trained to a standard I would call adequate. They had a long way to go but considering my need for men I would likely already have to use them a lot sooner than I wanted to. But needs must as they say.
Some days I felt dizzy from all the fires I was putting out over my lands and the whole coast. Sometimes I felt like beating my head against the wall as I actually started a few of those on my own, not thinking some actions quite through, only to scramble afterwards to migrate any damage done with the competent help of my advisors. Without my wife and the absolute delight my son turned out to be I might have self destructed from stress. As it was I tried to make some family time each day – greatly appreciated by my wife – and felt a lot more balanced because of it. This was something I had learned to do during my last life and as it turned out some things translated really well from one world to the other.
Next to this mental and emotional exercise I had of course not neglected my physical wellbeing. I had taken to training again whenever I found the time. While I would have preferred being a scholar, the world I found myself in was shaped by the warriors with very few exceptions, so I trained to be able to affect things in the future. My archery had grown to a level, aided by my weirwood bow, that would put me in the top twenty percent or so in the north if not in Westeros as a whole. While I was still far from master marksmanship I could hold more than my own with the weapon. My sword skills were still far from good but I would survive a few minutes if armoured adequately.
Since returned I had not once left the castle without my armour on and a weapon close at hand. Most of the time I carried my bow along, a small quiver of arrows being as much part of my everyday wear as small cloth. At least one of my arrows would always be tipped by an obsidian arrowhead, which had led to some confusion with my servants but was shrugged off as highborn eccentric. I was also always wearing one of the dragonglass daggers I had discovered in the ancestral Frost castle, never having it more than an arms length away. Call me paranoid but I thought it prudent as they were really out to get me… and any other living person out there.
Some of the discovered money was also fuelled into the renovation of my castle, the speed of the repairs picking up as more stonemasons and other specialists arrived by the week. It would still take at least two years to finish but I now felt reasonably confident that the fortification would be back in prime shape by the time Balon Greyjoy kicked off his little rebellion, if he did at all considering the changes I had already caused without meaning to.
Two more fortified towers would be constructed around the harbor with scorpions already being ordered to be put on top once they arrived. Sadly I did not have the means or knowledge to construct them myself, the specialists needed being in the service of greater lords than myself. But I could work with what I had and order what I did not, for now at least. Long term I aimed at becoming a supplier myself but that was a long way off. With all the projects I was doing my lands were changing as quickly as possible without the process running completely out of control. As it was, it still turned out to be a wild ride but still one at least barely guided, something like a runaway horse going for the forest of cacti instead of jumping straight off the cliff with me on top. I did not want to picture what would have happened had I had been fighting in the south and not been present, my reputation and my status keeping a lot of things going in the right direction that might not have otherwise.
More wooden towers were being integrated into the walls of Rytherport, hopefully making it even more defensible than it already was. Still flammable of course but I was as of yet not rich enough to put a stonewall around the quickly growing settlement. Wood would have to do for now and in a pinch it would offer a much needed barrier as it was. If any battle lasted longer than it took to burn down the reinforced palisade then I would not have enough men left that any stonewall might have made a difference. As I was mostly aiming at beating off ironborn raiders who by definition had no idea about sieges, I hoped that it would be enough.
As it was, I was counting on most if not all of my "sports-" archers manning the walls next to my own men over the walls itself, which should mean that the defenders would not lack for numbers if the worst happened. Some ten miles down the coast in each direction I also established small outposts, which were no more than half a dozen men in a camp, really. They would be permanently tasked with keeping an eye on the sea while sitting next to a prepared pyre that would smoke like nobody's business if lit. I hoped to prevent surprise attacks or at least get a few hours of warning before whatever danger approached came into sight of my main settlement. We would see how it worked out. Knowing my luck sooner rather than later.
On the eve of the fourth month the clan surveyors Jasana had contracted finally arrived only to be sent out again the next week with a small escort. They would likely take at least half a year to get the lay of the land and too really look at the area. Maybe they would find something, maybe they would not...but I had to try.
Another development that had been caused by the arrival of the clansmen was the founding of an all female archery team. The southern part of my population nearly had a collective heart attack but as Oshana and her girls did not break any rule I had set they could do shit all. I was greatly amused by the development and continued to be so as they regularly scored second or third place in the training rankings, driving the more traditional southerners nuts. As two of the female archers had southern roots the traditionalists couldn't even wave it off as 'northern barbarism', which pained them all the more.
As it stood the mixed team lead by Gregor Rivers – a bastard of a branch of house Blackwood – had been ranked first in the betting pool often enough that I felt pretty good about it, knowing that a mixed team winning would help greatly with the integration of north and south into a single whole. I was looking very much forward to the tournament that would kick off in a week, my anticipation being shared by my whole people.
Sitting down on a raised platform with a great view on the archery range some days later I smile happily. The tournament was well underway with the final round about to commence. Just as predicted the mixed team by Gregor was standing heads and tails above the competition with one pure South team and the all female team struggling for second place in a tight race. Fourth was a pure northern team with the ones after that being of no consequence for most people.
Jasana takes her place at my side just as the arrows start to fly, the task being to get as many arrows as possible through the spaces between evenly placed shields I had ordered placed on a quickly constructed bracket. I had enough shields looted from the ironborn to outfit the construction that was intended to fake a shield turtle during battle nearly at no cost. It nonetheless looked quite impressive while offering a politically acceptable target. Who didn't like shooting at ironborn, after all? Even if they were only imaginary beneath their shields. The near unholy glee some of the archers displayed as they frantically hammered the construction with their projectiles would have scared me a little, had I not felt a distinct satisfaction at the sight considering my experiences with the reavers.
The onlookers liked it as well, cheering mightily whenever they saw an arrow slip into the gaps between the shields and booing just as loudly as yet another arrow lodged itself into one of the displayed shields. After half a minute the construction looked like a pincushion, Wyndal calling a halt to the process as the archers had used up their allowed arrows.
Walking to the target he and his assistants started to count the projectiles that got through, colours on the arrow shafts marking the different teams. Turning to my wife as this was going on I waved at the grounds and the assembled crowd. "What do you think, my love?"
She takes in the scene for another few seconds with a slight smile before answering. "I think...i think this might actually work."
"Oh?", I reply with an eyebrow rising slightly.
"Yes.", she states and subtly points at a few groups of the smallfolk gathered around the archery range. "Over there we have half a dozen of the seamstresses that arrived from Fairmarket with an equal number or northern ones...they are not standing in two groups but intermingled enough that you cannot tell them apart at a glance. Over there one of the local butchers seems to have found three new apprentices. If I look at their appearance I would reckon that two of the three have been born south of Moat Cailin."
Turning to me she smiles warmly, an air of wonderment around her. "Yes, husband. I see little differences beyond which team is supported. Bread and games you said at some point...I find myself equally baffled and impressed. As much as I love and respect you I had thought this scheme of yours mad."
I simply smile at her and raise my glass, the applause as Wyndal announces Gregor Rivers and his team the winner swallowing whatever I might have said. Much to the disgruntlement of the traditionalists Oshana and her girls made second place by two arrows with a pure riverlander team taking third. I breath a sigh of relief, mentally thanking the local gods as good fortune continued to shine on my schemes. This just as well could have gone completely wrong had one of the more homogeneous teams won and `proved` either north or south `superior` to the other side. My gamble had paid off it seems and even if other teams won the next tournaments it would have been proven that the mixed approach worked as well and that skill trumped heritage.
"You can stop strangling your chair now, husband.", Jasanas amused voice filters into my conscious and I blink, turning to her. She glances pointedly at my hands, which had whitened with how hard I was pressing the armrests, the poor wood creaking piteously under my grip. I make a concentrated effort to relax and loosen my grip enough to lessen the strain on the material.
"Yes...thank you for pointing it out.", I grumble more mad at myself than at anyone else. That had been really a little much of a reaction but I had been worried about the result of the competition, knowing that it could make or break what I had started to build over the last months.
"Should have send some of the men at arms into the competition if you wanted a sure win.", Wallace – one of my ever present shadows – grumbles slightly to the left and behind me, where he had taken up guard position.
I glance back at him. "My men winning would have done nothing to build a common identity among the smallfolk, it might even outright harmed the process. They would have have pointed at my archers and the training advantage they enjoyed and at me for cheating them of their possible winnings...so I did not allow them to participate at all. I might change this for the next contest but I think I will leave it as it is. This competition is for the smallfolk and much more useful for me this way. It will also remove the risk of my men actually losing – which might happen depending on the quality of the other teams – and showing them as incompetent protectors. No, it is better this way."
"As you say, Milord.", Wallace replies non-committally, causing me to roll my eyes as I had obviously not won him over but at least the discussion seemed to be tabled for now.
"I think the men would have fared well"
...or not.
Harren had grumbled the words from his position a little below and to the left of my seat and I huff in annoyance. Staring at the man that had turned to hear my reply I massage my temples, knowing that they all wanted the best but sometimes their comments really grated on my nerves. Still, better to have subordinates that pointed out stupidity than the ever present yes-men. It was just tedious sometimes, you know?
"Oh, I do not doubt that. I expect them to be placed in the top three places in any case if not outright winning the contest. While earning me some prestige it would – as I already pointed out – not been what I needed at this point in time. I will not change my mind on this.", I state before demonstratively turning back to the tournament, silence settling again over the nobles box.
Rivers winning the single competition a few hours later made him a rich man indeed for a peasant, noble born as he might be. He was also gifted a well crafted bow and simply but sturdy leather armour on my behest, sweetening the price even further beyond the monetary value alone. The man would enter my service a day later, bringing with him a score of half trained youth he wanted to train as archers personally. I saw little reason to refuse him and would need the men in time anyway even if it was yet another expenditure I had not foreseen and could not really afford.
Already a dozen more teams had formed in the excitement and logged with the scribes, leaving me feeling almost ridiculously pleased with myself. If the teams continued to push themselves to rank well in the regular training betting pools this would give me a good two hundred well practised archers to call upon in a hurry if needed and a good reserve force at any time.
Knowing that the tournament would commence again in a year's time had everybody already taking to training again with a gusto, dreaming of the coin that promised the winner to take a step up in life as shown by the recent victor. Even if you were not excellent as a single archer, being part of a team still promised a juicy reward and many wanted to try their hand at it. I ordered a further fifty bows to be made available to the smallfolk willing to train and a second range to be set up below my castle's walls. I would need it before long, I suspected.
By the seventh month we finally got word that Kings Landing had fallen even if not in the way I remembered it in the books. Staring down at the letter Glabart Glover had sent by raven I felt the distinct urge to drink something a lot stronger than ale or wine.
Darren,
Kings Landing has fallen, Aerys is dead. The red keep is no more, gone in a blaze of wildfire. Tywin Lannister and a lot of his men died with it, leaving Jamie Lannister to take up the Lord Paramouncy. His grace Robert Baratheon released him of his vow. He will marry the sister, Cersei Lannister, before long as Lyanna is no longer suitable. The Reach has bent the knee, Dorne holds out as does Dragonstone.
Keep up the good work and continue to guard the west as you have for nearly a year now. We will return north before the year is up and I wish to speak to you in person once we do. Before that our lord has another task for you. Sail to Starfall, where you will pick up the northmen present in four month time. Passage will have been secured.
Regards,
Galbart
I rub my temples, a throbbing headache making itself felt.
Well...shit.
This, I mentally sigh, was markedly different from the information I remembered from the book and show. It also left me with a lot of questions whose answers obviously had not made it onto the restricted amount of space offered by Raven. Where was Eddard Stark? In Dorne – obviously – if I interpreted the last part of the letter right. What happened to Stannis? He wasn't mentioned so I hoped that the situation in the Stormlands was at the very least not a total catastrophe. If the Red Keep did go the way of the Dodo by being blown sky high, how the hell had Jamie survived to take over the Westerlands? What about Elia and the other members of the royal family? Questions over questions with no answers in sight.
Well, that clinched it anyway. Canon was now officially off the rails and had been for a while, leaving my foreknowledge while not useless still greatly decreased in usability. I found myself surprised that I actually did not mind, the feeling of a great weight lifting off my shoulders causing me to mentally pause for a moment in near shock. It seemed that I had been feeling greatly pressured by the expectations I had against myself and now that I was moving into the unknown I felt… free.
Shaking my head I carefully place the letter on my desk and move to a window, emptily staring out into the darkness of a moonless night. The only lights came from the harbor where my people were doing night shifts to finish the dock for my war galley, which was set to arrive within a fortnight and would need a place to be docked securely. Thankfully the crews I had recruited from White Harbor and Seaguard had arrived by now, leaving me with enough men to man my last two captured longships as well as the warship I was about to receive.
This letter changed things. But again, I would not be able to affect much of the greater events without risking my credibility or sticking my nose too deep into some problems only for it to either get mauled or outright cut off, neither of which I would like very much. No, I would continue to choose my battles and hopefully only pick those that I could actually win. Of course one of the battles had just been picked for me, I muse with a scowl.
Sailing all the way down to Dorne. While Galbart had not said it, it was pretty obvious to me what happened. Eddard Stark had somehow gotten the location of his sister and moved there with a few dozen of his most trusted men intending to rescue her and either capture or kill her guards, of which Arthur Dayne was one. After that he just as obviously intended to head for Starfall where he would trade the Sword of the Morning against safe access to the harbor with me picking them up.
I would need six to eight weeks to travel to Starfall by ship, leaving me with just about two months to prepare. Moving over to a nearby pitcher I refill my cup with a light red wine and all but drown it in a single go, a grimace appearing on my face a moment later. Rushing it really did not do the taste any favors. I really had not intended my glorified coast guard duty to land me in a position where I acted as all around problem solver for house Stark. Massaging my temples I return to my desk, mulling over the problem as it presented itself.
Lord Stark had not relieved me of my duty to guard the coast, leading me to believe that I could not just stop doing so without at least some consequences. I also could not ignore the command to retrieve him and his entourage from Starfall, leaving me with only one option – splitting the fleet. I would also be sailing past the Iron Islands and passing the Reach, which while officially at peace by now might not like me crossing their waters.
With a sigh I table the thought for later, I had still time after all, and instead moved to the family wing, the by now showing Jasana already snoring deeply in our bed. The confirmation of the pregnancy had not come as a surprise, the information that she was likely to carry twins had. I worried for her as the risk of birthing two instead of one were always greater to the mother, especially considering the medical situation of the seven kingdoms.
Literally shipping out in a few weeks as I was – I could really not hand the command to anyone else despite how much I hated sea travel – I would yet again miss the birth of my children. This more than anything else made the whole situation painful on so many levels that I didn't care to name them all. Her reaction as I tell her of my new task the coming morning reflects this as well, but she knows just as much as myself that I did not have the option of refusing. At least not if I didn't want to risk the future of my house. For a moment I hear a near mechanical voice in my head pointing out that "resistance is futile" and nearly crackle out loud in a moment where it would have been really really inappropriate.
Sitting down with Wyndal and Jasana in my solar the next day both are still equally unhappy at the news with my wife asking the most obvious question at once. "Why are you being summoned to go south with what few ships we have? Why not the Manderlys, who have the far greater fleed available?"
"White Harbour cannot send ships.", Wyndal answers absently while looking at a map of Westeros, earning himself a truly ferocious glare.
"Explain", Jasana grits out while I lean back, wanting to see if my semi-maester would come to the same conclusions I did.
"House Targaryen still commands the royal fleet from their ancestral seat of Dragonstone. More than two hundred warships potentially patrol the narrow sea, making any attempt to break through dangerous at best. Even in a few month time this will not change as the other high lords other than the Lannisters and Redwynes have no fleet to speak of if you do not count the ironborn, all three who are on our side of the continent.
The Reach only just bend the knee, so nobody will trust them to put an end to the Dragons instead of joining them. The Lions are in a disarray with Lord Tywin and many of his lords having been burned with the Red Keep, their fleet will not move until this is sorted out which might yet take some time. This leaves no significant power on the eastern coast, that could challenge the royal navy. The ironborn have the numbers and ability but hardly the will to interfere one way or another. Dragonstone will be unassailable for some time yet, leaving sending a ship down the western coast the far better alternative."
Jasana glares sullenly at the man, not willing to capitulate just yet. "The Mormonts? House Tully?"
"House Mormont isn´t affluent enough to own a fleet, more so as the few attempts they have made at building one have been put to the torch by ironborn and wildling raids both….we have been very lucky as it is. They have a few dozen scouting ships that warn them in case of raids but other than fisher boats that is it. That has been it since the Burner destroyed the northern fleet, hundreds of years ago. The Tullys have some river barges but no navy to speak of. The Mallisters have some as we found out recently but they are mostly kept close...and with Hoster Tully dead what is true for the Westerlands holds true for the Riverlands as well."
"So we are really the only option?", she finally sighs in defeat as I gently grip her shoulder.
"Not the only option, no.", I state solemnly, "But we are the best in a pick of bad ones. Unseating house Targaryen from Dragonstone will take month or even years if some sort of surrender agreement is not reached. Lord Stark likely does not have that time." Jasana stays silent with a mulish expression on her face, not happy with the way the conversation has gone but also not being able to mount a sensible counter argument.
Not having a real choice I instead throw myself into the preparations, any available hand being thrown at the war galley as it arrives the next week. Superficial damages were repaired with great care while supplies were already waiting at the barely finished dock as it arrived, the workers having moved heaven and earth to get it ready in time. The bonus of one silver each if they managed had thankfully motivated them enough to actually do it, which surprised me somewhat. The next four weeks I spent practising on the ships and with manoeuvres including the galley and the two longships I would take along as escorts. The other ships would remain behind and continue the patrols along the coast.
More thorough repairs or upgrades would have to wait until I either gained the necessary people and expertise to build a dry dock or found a trustworthy place outside of my lands that could to the heavy lifting for me. Obviously I preferred the first but would not have the means to really push the issue for some time, having more than enough other projects that had a higher priority in my mind. Being able to build, repair and customize ships on my own land would be just as great as it would be expensive. Currently I did not have the resources so I would have to make do with what I had at hand, leaving me with superficial repairs over the waterline for now.
I would take little more than a six score soldiers with me in addition to the sailors crewing the ship with five dozen joining me on the 'Guardian' as I had called the galley. The others were split evenly between the longships, leaving me with hopefully enough men to fight off any challengers while leaving enough free space for whatever men Lord Stark would bring along. He had left the rebel host with a lot of men and I dearly hoped that he had the good sense to not transport them all on my ships. They would never fit but I didn't think that the northern lord had any more experience with ships than I did.
Something I invented in a hurry together with Wyndal was a sign language using flags for daylight communication as well as another one using lamps, a sort of makeshift morse code. I did not have the time to do something complicated but my captains and their navigators would be able to communicate at least some rudimentary commands, which was more than anyone else would be able to do in this day and age. At least I thought so but I wasn't actually so sure. In the show the iron fleet had seemed pretty well coordinated as they sailed with Danerys, which should have been very hard if not impossible without at least some sort of ship to ship communication system. But as I had no time to actually research the known methods I had fallen back yet again on what I remembered from my last life. I knew it to work well so why not use it?
With nine weeks to the deadline I set out, leaving Rytherport behind yet again to follow my lord's command. The weather was as rainy as it was windy, reflecting my mood just about as good as it could without being a thunderstorm. I really really hated sea travel.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein