Capítulo 50: Chapter 44 - Dissenters
A/N: If anyone has not yet gotten the light novel, it is from 'How a Realist Hero Rebuilt the Kingdom', Volume 16.
Thanks to Fierymatter and Ascalon on SB for beta-ing.
Chapter XLIV: Dissenters
18 AC
Arpaz Tyl
Azella Rada
Young Temujin was busy playing with several children in a game of catch, where they threw little soft balls of wood and competed to see who could catch it most times. Healed from his wounds thanks to modern medicine and magic, the boy was alive and brimming with energy in ways he never thought possible.
"I got it!" Temujin exclaimed, holding the ball high in the air.
"No fair, that's the third time in a row!"
"I'm just that good!" Temujin boasted, puffing his chest out.
"Oh yeah? Try this!"
Temujin barely reacted in time to catch another ball that flew a bit too far to catch; he leapt out with arms fully outstretched, but his fingers scarcely touched the ball before it slipped out of his reach, and he hit the ground with a hard thud.
Many children laughed at this sight, while Temujin merely grumbled as he dusted himself off.
"Sorry, I just don't like it when people boast like that," The thrower apologised, stretching out a hand for Temujin to grab, before helping him get up on his feet, "You alright?"
"Yeah, nothing serious," Temujin waved off.
"Temujin! It's almost time to go back!"
The children saw Azella Rada approaching with a couple of unassuming people nearby, and gleefully waved back to her.
"Mother Azella," Temujin greeted with a beaming smile, as if he had not suffered an embarrassing fall.
"Are you alright?" Asked Azella.
"I'm fine, just fell down," Temujin reassured, "Nothing serious."
Azella smiled, "Let's return home."
Temujin had no family left, he never knew his father,and his mother dead of disease when he was just six years old. Sold into slavery, he endured harsh treatment and abuse until the age of ten-and-one when he was rescued by Azella's party. Since then, he clung to her tightly as his new mother, basking in her warmth and affection.
Yet every time he looked at Azella's face, his breath was always taken away by her beauty and warmth, and each time he felt heat rise to his face as his face flushed a deeper shade of red.
Surely it was just a natural reaction?
IIOII
Sodrurlion (Winterfell)
Torrhen Stark
The courts of the North were a louder and more rambunctious affair as nobles argued and aired their grievances out in the open, lacking the flowery language and double-meanings of Southern courtly intrigues. Yet as of late, Torrhen Stark thought their arguments were increasing in volume and intensity.
"Lord Blodfeld is becoming far too rich! There is a limit to how much he can flaunt his wealth in our faces!"
"How is he achieving this when he barely accepts Southron visitors!? Does he have some sort of secret deal?"
"Apparently he now has a trade agreement with the Skagosi, and now both sides are profiting off the gem trade! They discovered rich veins that can last centuries!"
"Does he aspire to turn Moat Cailin into the next Casterly Rock?"
"He is even raising an army ten thousand strong, and that is in his region alone! Does he aspire to secede from Winterfell?"
Torrhen groaned beneath his breath as he tried to numb the coming headache. Ever since Houses Blodfeld and Taegorad were established in Sonaria (The North), they had achieved feats thought previously impossible by many Lords be they Northmen or otherwise.
Not only did they completely rebuild Moat Cailin, its construction invoked a feeling of awe, grandeur and wonder in all who saw it from afar and passed into the city limits, built with far superior construction techniques and materials the likes of which only Brandon the Builder could have conceived. The original twenty towers were reduced to ten, and the walls were pitch black like polished obsidian, yet unlike the famed Black Stone used by the Valyrians of yore, it did not leave an oily touch. The gates, forged entirely of a glossy blue metal, shimmered like polished sapphire. Within the city, every house was built like a noble's mansion, and every building shone a natural milky white, partially painted with a mixture of colours - shamrock green, urbane bronze, destrider black [1] and tranquil aqua.
They also 'discovered' the means of forging a type of magical steel easily the equal of Valyrian Spellforged Steel, which bore the same blue shimmer as Moat Cailin's gates and shone like ice, using it for spears, axes, lances, arrowheads and armour. They called it Winter Steel [2], and as of now only the smiths of Moat Cailin knew how to forge it.
Like Paletillia (The Crownlands) and Dornia (Dorne), Lord Eckard invested in the creation and maintenance of a professional army corps with standardised equipment and harsh training standards, and its merchant navy had trade agreements all across Westeros and much of Essos.
Many remarked he was investing in unnecessary extravagance, but the implications were lost on no one.
And now his products trade goods were earning him immense amounts of profit none could have imagined.
"Enough! I will have order in this court!"
Torrhen slammed a fist on the armrest of his throne, silencing the courtiers.
"Now you may all have your personal grievances, but this is a noble court, not a pigsty, so you will all list your concerns as court protocol dictates. Do you understand me?" Torrhen firmly ordered.
The nobles agreed half-heartedly.
"Now, who wishes to go first?" Asked Torrhen.
"I would, if Your Lordship permits."
Lord Meryck Manderly, a corpulent man with more wealth than most, walked with a wobbly belly that protruded from his clothes that strained with every step, before bowing respectfully to Torrhen. Torrhen nodded and beckoned him to continue.
"My Lord, House Blodfeld holds a monopoly on far too much of our trade, and it is our humble opinion that he must be brought to heel," Meryck stated, "His creation of a professional military and navy is a clear sign that he is consolidating power, possibly in preparation for whatever nefarious misdeeds he has in mind."
"Might I remind all of you that he obtained a hefty sum of money from Arin Rada in exchange for having to do favours for him," Torrhen pointed out, "Part of them includes having to contribute military aid to several skirmishes and battles in Essos, aiding against pirates further south of the Stepstones and roaming bandits and Dothraki in Daeria (Volantis)?"
"And when Lord Blodfeld finishes repaying those favours, what then? Will his battle-hardened and emboldened heart be content with what he already possesses?" Meryck retorted.
Torrhen resisted the urge to growl at Meryck, tempering his anger.
The truth is that House Blodfeld can hardly muster troops to threaten the entire North by itself, and with the King's Peace firmly in place, he cannot afford to rebel unless he brands himself a traitor and loses everything he works so hard to earn. These fools are just jealous of his success.
"He will remain obedient and loyal, that I am certain of," Torrhen firmly replied, his tone silencing dissent, "Rather, he cannot afford to. Think from his position: Does he truly wish to jeopardise everything he worked so hard to earn to satisfy a single generation's pride and ego over the security of his scions?"
No one could truly refute that, though none were truly satisfied either.
"If I may speak, Your Lordship?"
Torrhen resisted the urge to glare at Edrick, Lord of House Bolton. Since time immemorial, House Bolton was the source of no end of rebellion against House Stark despite every attempt ending in failure. As the saying went for House Stark: "Be wary always of the flayers of House Bolton."
"What do you wish to say, Lord Bolton?" Torrhen asked.
"I merely mean to reiterate that Lord Manderly's concerns are not unfounded, Lord Stark," Said Edrick Bolton, "Even if he has no reason to rebel right now, who is to say that cannot change? Rather, who is to say he will always respect your authority? That his brood will hold the same fervent devotion you believe he holds most dear? Him becoming rich and wealthy ahead of his peers who bear longer and more vaulted histories, including yourself, the heir of the Great Builder of the Age of Heroes? This upstart will set a terrible precedent."
Many nobles murmured their agreements with Edrick's words, but Torrhen refused to give Edrick the satisfaction of glaring at him.
House Manderly's holdfast of White Harbour controlled the White Knife, and thus much of the maritime trade in the region before Moat Cailin's rise, which in turn threatened their own monopoly on both trade and shipwrights on the eastern shores and their benefit to the north. Some of the Manderlys also felt that as the only House in Sonaria following the Faith of the Seven - being former exiles from Tegonia (The Reach) - they could easily be usurped by a fellow naval power following the Old Gods.
Karhold also had much grievance with House Blodfeld over their monopoly on the gem trade, feeling entitled to it since they were geographically much closer to the island of Skagos. Sadly for House Karstark, the Skagosi were an exceptionally insular and distrusting lot, and the first time they tried to negotiate deals, they were chased out in a flurry of insults.
"As I said, he will not dare to rebel against us right now," Torrhen reiterated, "Though I also cannot deny that he cannot be the only one growing wealthy. Even so, I must pose to you all a question: Exactly who holds the one stronghold that controls our land trade on the Kingsroad [3]? More importantly, should a winter devastate our crop yields, will our last lifeline not be under the whims of House Blodfeld? That is not to imply House Manderly or other houses of naval stock will neglect their duties in such a trying period, but are the sealanes guaranteed to remain open and prosperous when cold winds blow, the water freezes into ice and ships are ravaged by rabble who will clamour to seize our means of survival?"
Every noble including Lord Bolton bit their tongues, their lips curling into deep frowns. The North was never truly a prosperous region despite their pride for their homeland - what the Southrons called a 'desolate wasteland'. Even worse was that Torrhen Stark's words rang true, the North's weak navy notwithstanding.
"That being said, that does not mean we have to accept this meekly," Torrhen pointed out, and this time the nobles proved far more receptive, "Like it or not, Moat Cailin is still the fastest-growing hub of trade for the entire North, and to counter this we must implement economic and military reforms of our own if we hope to stay ahead of him."
Some of the nobles - mostly nobles of old houses - grumbled slightly but said nothing in response, muttering things like 'old ways' and 'unnecessary change' while the minor houses nodded in contemplative silence, their eyes reflecting interest and at times, greed.
"In other words, we must start making changes so we can start reaping greater profits of our own, Your Lordship?" Asked Edrick, "And so that in the unlikely scenario House Blodfeld rebels, we are better prepared to put him down?"
"Yes, that is the case," Torrhen affirmed.
"Then, I have nothing else to say," Edrick relented as he stepped back.
"Is there anyone else who wishes to speak?" Torrhen asked, "No? Then this court is adjourned."
Torrhen doubted many Northmen would truly be willing to change a lifestyle that had endured for over eight millennia, but even if their far-sightedness was in short supply, their greed and paranoia was not. One way or another, House Blodfeld's growing power will force them to start adapting, if only so they can remain the dominant force.
And as much as he despised House Bolton, he could not deny Lord Edrick's words; who could truly say Eckard was not plotting rebellion with how many troops he was raising, and the quality of his military?
For now, he would have to wait and see.
IIOII
Daro Vilinion (King's Landing)
Aegon Targaryen
If there was one thing Aegon learned in his years at court, it was that even the most certain things could be subject to change at the drop of a hat.
"Are you certain of this, Triston?" He asked.
"Yes, Your Grace," Triston replied with displeasure, "It cost me a dozen spies, and for all my efforts I only managed to obtain scraps of information."
"Nevertheless I appreciate your efforts," Aegon nodded, "And to think the Sonarians of Moat Cailin have been developing magic steel of their own…"
"This means that House Rada is no longer the only other faction in Westeros that possesses magic, too," Visenya remarked, her displeasure greater than Aegon's, "And considering his actions of late, we can only surmise that this upstart is accumulating power of his own."
"Surely he does not think himself the next Arin Rada?" Rhaenys remarked cheekily, "Oh, how the Sonarians would dread having one such person on their doorstep."
"He certainly does not want to be a pushover," Visenya added, "I will give him this; he's daring in asking Arin Rada of all people for gold. Others would say it's far easier to ask us or the Lannisters, but he's wiser than I give this Eckard credit."
"Do not forget that his neighbours are none too pleased with him," Aegon reminded, "The fact he received Moat Cailin and built it better than before already has countless nobles jealous of his achievements. I think it's only a matter of time before they take antagonistic action against him."
"What shall I do in the meantime, Your Grace?" Asked Triston.
"For now, keep a close eye on Eckard and all the men of Houses Blodfeld and Taegorad. Anything that concerns us, you must immediately note down and forward to us. Let nothing escape your sight," Aegon ordered, his voice firm and low.
"As you command," Triston bowed.
As Triston left, the Targaryens faced each other with fresh worry on their faces.
"How is Elaegelle?" Asked Aegon.
Visenya shook her head sorrowfully.
"She has yet to find a dragon that will bond with her. In fact, practically every dragon in the dragonpit refused to do so," She said, "I thought the mark of Balerion [4] meant great things for her, but so far it has resulted in nothing."
"Even worse, she's been mercilessly picked on by her siblings and other noble children, and rumours are running rampant that she's not a true Targaryen," Rhaenys added, her frown deepening as she recalled the memory.
Visenya hit the wall with her fist, "How dare they…! She is my daughter, and no one gets to talk badly about her!"
"Be that as it may, the environment at Daro Vilinion's quickly worsening; I do not think we should keep her here," Rhaenys remarked.
"She needs our support, and you suggest she should go elsewhere?" Visenya angrily muttered.
"I do not think we have much of a choice in this matter," Aegon weighed in, "As much as I hate to admit it, she should not spend much longer around a poisonous court and equally abusive siblings; that is no way for an eight-year old child to live her childhood."
The Targaryens loved all of their children equally, their youngest scions included. This was exactly why this suggestion of distancing weighed heavily on them.
"Where should we foster her, then?" Asked Visenya, "Most certainly not any of the Andal lands, or in Sonaria, for that matter."
"That leaves Dornia," Aegon nodded to himself, "Ironically enough, Arin Rada's our best option for fostering her safely."
"Yes, it works; Rhoyehom (Godsgrace) has a Valyrian quarter and there are Valyrian courtiers serving in Arin's court, so she will not truly feel out of place," Visenya nodded, "That being said, she still needs people she can trust from Paletillia."
"Her sworn knight Ser Jaehaerys Caldaeron," Rhaenys suggested, "He is one of her few confidants who treats her with kindness despite her negative reputation."
"That can work," Aegon smiled, "It's settled; Elaegelle will be fostered with Arin Rada, and Ser Caldaeron will accompany her."
They could only pray to the Fourteen that Elaegelle will grow to be an upstanding scion of their house, so far away from poisonous influences.
[1] Destrider Black - The Westerosi name for Tricorn Black.
[2] Winter Steel - Made from highly refined steel made with imported Essosi-styled techniques, they contain powdered obsidian added during smelting, allowing it to be easily enchanted by the Children of the Forest's arcane arts.
Among the Northmen of Moat Cailin, it is called Winterstíele in the Old Tongue.
[3] Kingsroad - The royal highway in the Seven Kingdoms extending over two thousand miles from Storm's End to King's Landing, to the Wall. Quality of the highway varies highly across different parts of Westeros, with the one in Paletillia being the most developed with wide stone paved paths able to accommodate six-carriage-wide spans.
[4] The mark of Balerion is an open dragon's maw breathing fire.
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