Capítulo 29: Viserys III
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'Kingship is such a burden.' Viserys thinks.
"Soldiers at my door, your Grace!" The man bellows. "The Prince is recruiting able bodied men from my lands and putting them in my lands! I can no longer oversee my hold with ease of mind!"
The middle aged man complaints get much support from his surroundings, acknowledging his grievances.
"Those men, Lord Edgerton." He rasps. "Are what is keeping your lands free of outlaws and bandits, they enforce the king's peace, and as long as there is no reason for it, you will find no trouble from them."
"Forgive me your Grace, but methinks we can keep the peace just fine, like we did for thousands of years." Another lord pipes up. "Having men, owing no allegiance to us and pledging no oaths to our cause, camping at our doors is unacceptable, and goes against millennia of traditions." He says. "I urge you, your Grace. Have the Prince stop his actions, as we can no longer stand for them."
The King sighs. "My son only does what he does for your sakes, my lords." He matches the gaze of each of his courtiers. "Those men are paid by our gold, fed with our grains, and trained by our men, yet they do your job of maintaining the peace, patrolling the roads and culling bandits, but that is not the reason for their establishment."
At their silent question, he continues. "The recent changes have been a gift from the gods, new farming methods and the influx of iron from the north allows farmers to have more and more bountiful harvests, assuring our ability to feed our people without question." He explains. "Yet as more and more grains flow into the market, the price of them plummets, as most of you can attest to." Some of the smarter men's eyes light up in recognition; they seem to have caught the implications. "I have already received rumors of families that have more grain than what they can use, families that, while capable of feeding themselves, aren't capable of supporting more than one or two children."
"And so while first sons may support themselves with farming, and third ones could find another trade to practice, we find ourselves in a conundrum where there isn't enough demand for grain nor artisans to teach their skills to every man, what do you think those left behind would do? What is a common man's decision when it comes to feeding himself and his family if they have no fields to till nor trade to ply?"
"Every man that joins my son's legions is one put to better use, keeping you lands safe, building roads, and digging canals instead of robbing, pillaging, and raping your people." He says. "Let me be clear, my lords. Those men that you say are camping at your doors are doing so at MY expense, and at YOUR service."
"While they are doing so, your people are free to train, to farm, to work for your sake, and when the bells of war are tolling, it is those men standing at your doors that will safeguard you, at no expense from your houses, no need for calling untrained levies nor endangering your knights."
The lords stay silent, thoroughly flummoxed at his words, but some are still voicing their complaints. "What is to stop the legions, as you call them, to simply stage a rebellion against us?" Lord Edgerton. "I have two hundred well equipped and trained infantry at my doors! What is to stop them from barging in my castle and putting me and my house to the sword?!"
Viserys leans toward the man, making sure his face is as menacing as can be. "The same thing that guarantees the loyalty of seven kingdoms." He says. "Fire and Blood."
The King lethargically stands, leaning heavily on his cane. "I tire of this; court is adjourned for the day." The boots of the Kingsguard echo as he leaves the Throne room.
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King Viserys made his way slowly to the small council chamber, his mind still echoing with the grumbling voices of his lords. The throne room debates had drained him, and now the tedious minutiae of governance awaited him. He entered the chamber and took his seat, barely acknowledging the courtiers already deep in discussion.
As the others droned on about grain supplies, tax levies, and border disputes, Viserys found his thoughts wandering. His eyes glazed over, staring at the ornate carvings on the wooden table without really seeing them. His mind drifted back to the faces of his lords, their complaints and fears still fresh in his memory. His body was present, but his spirit felt detached, floating somewhere far away from the burdens of kingship.
The voice of Otto Hightower, his Hand, cut through the haze. "Your Grace, your thoughts on the matter?"
Viserys blinked, struggling to recall the topic at hand. "My thoughts, Lord Otto?" he asked, attempting to mask his distraction.
Otto's expression was one of polite concern, but there was a hint of impatience in his eyes. "Yes, your Grace. We were discussing the recent taxation adjustments and their impact on the smaller lordships."
"Ah, yes," Viserys said, clearing his throat. "The adjustments. I... I apologize, my mind was elsewhere. Please, continue."
Otto nodded, his face softening slightly. "Of course, your Grace. I also wished to inquire about the prince's absence. There have been whispers regarding his recent changes to the city and their implications. Might we expect him to return soon?"
Viserys sighed inwardly. He knew Otto's inquiry was not purely out of concern but also a subtle criticism of Baelon's initiatives. "My son is at Dragonstone," Viserys replied, his voice steady. "He is handling matters related to the Stepstones. I trust his judgment in these affairs."
Otto's lips thinned, but he nodded in acquiescence. "Very well, your Grace. We shall continue to monitor the situation."
As the council resumed its discussions, Viserys found his attention slipping again. His mind wandered to Baelon, his son, and the myriad of issues surrounding him. He admired his son's zeal and ambition, but it often led to complications that landed squarely on Viserys' shoulders.
He sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the crown pressing down on him. The increase in his workload was relentless, every decision, every complaint, a new burden to bear. He felt a pang of weariness, both physical and emotional.
'Baelon, you troublesome wretch,' he thought with a hint of affectionate exasperation. 'You couldn't make it easy, could you? Always something to stir the pot, always another fire to put out.'
The king's lips curved into a faint smile, despite himself. Baelon's actions, though often vexing, were driven by a fierce loyalty and a desire to protect the realm in his own unconventional ways. And for that, Viserys was grateful, even if it meant more sleepless nights and headaches.
As the council session dragged on, Viserys forced himself to refocus, pushing through the fog of fatigue and frustration. Kingship was a burden, indeed, but it was one he bore for the sake of his people, his family, and the realm. And he would continue to bear it, come what may.
And yet his role extended beyond kingship, he was to do as a father should, laying the foundation for his son's vision, for what is his worth as a father otherwise?
'I wonder what he'll be, as King.' He mused. 'What I wouldn't pay to be witness to such a sight.'
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