Chapitre 406: 26
Chapter 26: Chapter 21: InvestitureNotes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Give me priests who are fat and corrupt and cynical, the sort who like to sit on soft satin cushions, nibble sweetmeats, and diddle little boys. It's the ones who believe in the gods who make the trouble."
-Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King to King Aegon VI Targaryen
105 AC, King's Landing
The three months before my investiture as heir was a marathon of work.
Everything had to be perfect, such that when the guests arrived in King's Landing, they could see all of House Targaryen's wealth, power and splendour. We were launching an outrageous announcement, hence we had to make sure that absolutely nothing could go wrong. Every single eye in the Realm was on me, and that meant that everything had to be flawless.
On Aegon's Hill, the Red Keep was beautifully decorated with tapestries and banners of the Targaryen dynasty's greatest moments. Aegon the Conqueror being crowned in Oldtown by the High Septon. Balerion burning Harrenhal. Jaehaerys' many royal progresses. The Fourth Dornish War and the utter and complete victory that it was for us.
On Rhaenys' Hill, the Dragonpit was renovated, with more amenities such as latrines and stalls added to cater to the crowds, as well as windows and vents for nore natural light and fresh air. The Dragonkeepers had been expanded significantly, despite our purges. The Goldcloaks were all also drilled on how to police the interior of the massive building, as when the crowds arrived, the Dragonkeepers would be busy keeping the dragons calm, and wouldn't have the manpower to spare keeping the crowds in line.
On Visenya's Hill, the planning of our new sept began. Uncle Vaegon had consulted with the septons to design the Great Sept. It would be built using Valyrian construction methods, out of the same pale stone as the Eyrie, with seven great bell towers crowned in coloured glass, in every colour of the rainbow, surrounding a great dome of glass. Already, the foundations of the building was being constructed. Hundreds of men worked day and night, toiling away at the ground even as the foundry of the Street of Steel burned day and night, producing the great bones of steel which would hold up the massive building.
The entirety of King's Landing had been cleaned, from the buildings and streets, to the people and livestock. It made for a deeply amusing sight, Goldcloaks herding Smallfolk towards the bathhouses we had hired for the occasion, forcing the unwashed masses to wash. A small scale riot had even broke out in Flea Bottom, hundreds of drunks and beggars absolutely refusing to bathe. Thankfully, the septons were able to convince them to stand down and bathe, telling the mob that it was the Will of the Seven.
During this time, the Small Council also took the opportunity for performing a census, having scribes at the bathhouses asking the names and addresses of everyone that entered.
Apparently I was looking in the wrong places for literate people. Lord Corlys had dug up hundreds of literate men to act as scribes. Traders, artisans and merchants were surprisingly literate, which in hindsight was obvious. They needed to know whom ordered what and from where. So we hired as many spare sons as we could from those people, which while still not enough for a functional bureaucracy, was a good first step. Already, many of them had mentioned interest in working long-term for the crown.
And that was not all the Master of Ships had done. The Royal Fleet was out en masse, combing Blackwater Bay and beyond, hunting down smugglers, pirates and slavers in our waters. Anything to reduce the crime rate before my investiture as heir.
And it wasn't just the waters we cleaned up: Every single criminal in King's Landing, no matter how petty, had been rounded up and arrested.
Mistress of Whispers Mysaria was new to her post, and eager to prove herself. She knew virtually every brothel madame, bartender and gambling den proprietor in King's Landing, and had a vast savant-esque knowledge of ever wrongdoer in the city. While most were sent off the the Night's Watch, a few had been spared the usual punishment. Instead, they were given a mop and a warning that the next time they were caught, the punishment would be doubled.
Every brothel in the city had been made to join her Pleasure Guild, as Ser Jonquil and I planned ages ago. But Mysaria went a step further and also made the winesinks and taverns join her Cups Guild and the Gambling Dens join her Dice Guild. The Vice Guilds, some called them.
We'd also torn out the Dark Guilds, root and stem. We'd pardoned the Smugglers Guild, so long as they paid a fine and disbanded peacefully. The Thieves Guild was on the way to the Wall now, while we sicced Rhaenys on the Assassins Guild —Thankfully, we were able to put the fires out before it spread too far.
We also called the banners, calling together the men-at-arms of our vassals before ordering them to begin rooting out bandits and brigands in the Crownlands. There weren't many, and it was mostly a matter of locating their hideouts before sending a raven back to the Red Keep, before getting a dragon in return. One memorable time, the raven came in right as Laena was about to leave for the usual exercise flight, so instead of taking the dragons east to Dragonstone, she flew all fourteen of them west.
Boy were those bandits screwed.
And by the time the first lords and ladies reached the city, King's Landing was unrecognisable. Streets swept and cleaned. Smallfolk washed and crime nonexistent. Walls scrubbed and roofs repaired.
We even provided a special welcome for the important houses. Whenever an important house was spotted approaching the city hinterlands, the Dragonpit would deploy the dragons to perform an airshow, circling the city until the lords had entered King's Landing. All fourteen of our adolescents and older. Every single one alive that wasn't a hatchling, save the Dragonstone trio. We'd even attached great pennants the size of mainsails onto them, such that they trailed behind them in flight, like planes towing a banner.
When the Reach contingent arrived, Vhagar flew in the lead, trailing the Targaryen banner, while the seven pointed star trailed behind Vermithor, the golden rose behind Silverwing. Dreamfyre flew the grapes of House Redwyne, Caraxes the Huntsman of House Tarly, Meleys the hightower of House Hightower, Seasmoke the golden tree of House Rowan. We did the same when the Westerlands came, changing the banners borne by the dragons, save Vhagar and Vermithor, whom would fly only the three-headed dragon and the Faith's banner respectively.
Laena practically lived in the Dragonpit during this time, riding out from the Red Keep at daybreak and returning home only after the sun had set. She was a far better flyer than I was by this time, and her skills in controlling the dragons with the dragon horns outstripped mine. She could even command them to do elaborate tricks like drawing letters and symbols with their fire breath in midair, as she demonstrated by ordering the seven unnamed dragons to draw a seven pointed star in the air with their fire breath to welcome the High Septon and the Most Devout to King's Landing.
The Skydancer, people called my girlfriend. Yes, we were no longer just mere lovers seeking companionship, but actually involved now. Our separation had made us yearn for the other even more, and when we reunited at my mother's funeral, we agreed to take the next step. A step which was long overdue.
———
105 AC, Red Keep Throne Room
"All kneel for King Viserys Targaryen the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. And his son, Prince Rhaenyra Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne." The herald announced, the two of us walking out of the side chamber behind the Iron Throne.
Gasps rose from among the kneels as they took in the sight of me. My long electrum braid had been cut, my hair now in the short pixie undercut I favoured back in my past life. I wore no dress, instead wearing a black linen suit I had the tailors create specifically for me, with a red shirt and black tie. Dark Sister was too long to fit on my black leather belt without dragging on the floor. Oh, I could wield it just fine, given how light and thin it was, but until I grew taller, I wore the blade on my back, the scabbard fastened with a black leather bandolier, the hilt peeking over my right shoulder. On my left shoulder hung a red half cape, with a dragonbone clasp in the shape of a three-headed dragon.
I was a far cry from the adorable princess that the lords and ladies knew and loved. No, now I was a handsome prince.
Being back in pants and with short hair was like slipping on an old dress, no pun intended. The cut did not fit quite as well as it used to, but there was a certain nostalgia and comfort in the familiarity of it.
It felt strange looking in the mirror. Rhaenyra looked like me now. I greatly resembled my mother, whom was an agelessly beautiful woman, so I always looked androgynous. In fact, Yuuki and Alice liked dolling me up, and I made a convincing woman. Pamela was outright aghast at the fact that I was prettier than her. So now that Rhaenyra was dressed as a boy and had short hair, I almost thought that I had returned.
But then on second glance, the differences started to show. Rhaenyra was more beautiful than even Mom. Her facial features were different. More of the austere Scandinavian beauty than softer East Asian beauty. Our skin tone was different. I was pale from a nocturnal lifestyle, but Rhaenyra's skin was alabaster. So pale it seemed to shine in the dark. My hair was black and curly, hers was electrum and straight. My eyes were so brown they appeared black. Hers were indigo.
It was unsettling. The similarities and the differences. It felt even stranger than when I was fully in princess mode. Back then, Rhaenyra looked utterly foreign. Now, she looked close enough to me that the discomfort was felt more keenly.
I'd probably grow my hair back and get a new wardrobe of dresses once I grew older, as I disliked the uncanny valley, but for now, I needed to hammer in the image. I was now a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. A legally recognised male, and heir to the Iron Throne. Putting up with my discomfort at my own looks was a trivial price to pay.
"My Lords and Ladies. I thank you all for coming here today." King Viserys spoke, once he took the Iron Throne. "As you all know, the death of my wife Aemma, and my infant son Baelon has left me without an heir to the Iron Throne. Hence my decision to name my daughter, the Princess Rhaenyra as heir.
"However, my courtiers have brought up the issue that the Great Council that gave me the throne over my cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, has set a precedent. That no female, nor any descendant of a female, may sit the Iron Throne." Viserys continued, gesturing to the woman in question, whom stood on the other side of the Iron Throne. "As such, the Princess Rhaenyra is disqualified, and my next immediate heir is arguably Laenor Velaryon. But, my uncle, Archmaester Vaegon, has uncovered an interesting precedent, known as the Haeshaeon Rule, utilised by the Forty Families of Old Valyria, that will allow us to crown Rhaenyra Targaryen regardless.
"The Haeshaeon Rule takes its name from Haeshaeon Thaemaeses, an heiress of House Thaemaeses of the Forty Families. Like in Volantis, Valyria was ruled by the High Assembly, where every one of the Forty Families had a seat and vote in it as Lord Freeholder. Although later laws allowed women to sit the High Assembly in their own right as Lady Freeholders, in Haeshaeon's time, only men were allowed to sit these high seats." Viserys elaborated, the assembled highborn listening in polite confusion at where this was going. "However, a period of plagues, warfare and internal strife led to the deaths of most of the men in the Forty Families. As such, in order to avoid losing her family's seat and vote, House Thaemaeses created an elaborate legal fiction that their eldest surviving daughter, Haeshaeon, was male. Thus allowing her to become Lord Freeholder of House Thaemaeses.
"This example was swiftly followed by other twenty-three families without a male heir, including House Targaryen, whom declared Daenaera Targaryen as male and gave her the high seat of Lord Freeholder. This precedent was used twice more by House Targaryen, naming Haelaena Targaryen Lord Freeholder a hundred years later, after her father passed without siring a son, and Rhaenys Targaryen two hundred and fifty years after that, until her infant son reached majority." Viserys said, understanding now blooming on the Lords and Ladies present. "Although, like I previously mentioned, later laws allowed women to sit as Lady Freeholder in their own right, the Haeshaeon Rule was never actually repealed. And thus House Targaryen, as the last of the Forty Families, can choose when to apply such a precedent.
"Which we now will, even though it has been over four thousand and two hundred years since it was last used!" Viserys declared humorously, getting polite laughter in response.
"And thus, the Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen is henceforth to be legally recognised as the Prince Rhaenyra Targaryen, legal son of King Viserys I and heir to the Iron Throne." Viserys finished.
"While King Viserys has no intention of changing his mind on the subject, he is willing to hear out the practical concerns of the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms, such that they may be openly aired and alleviated." Lord Hand Otto Hightower announced, stepping forwards. "We shall reconvene in two hours time. You have until then to discuss among yourselves. I highly recommend grouping together with like-minded individuals such that all concerns may be heard in a swift and efficient manner."
Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of concerns.
———
Court reopened two hours later. I had spent the recess drilling everyone on the script we had to follow. Viserys seemed displeased that he couldn't just order it done and expect it done, but he conceded to my plan, recognising its wisdom. Still, he voiced disapproval at how many lies were involved in it, but I eventually talked him around. The Faith was a touchy lot, and I'd rather we lie a bit and spare us another Faith uprising.
Now that the recess was over, we could see that the highborn had gathered into approximately six different groups, one for each of the kingdoms from the looks of it. Whoo boy, this was going to be a long day wasn't it.
"Let us begin with the Faith, as one of the two pillars of the realm, alongside the Crown." Lord Hand Otto Hightower declared, the High Septon and the Most Devout walking to the front and bowing respectfully.
I personally thought that he looked like a good example of what a High Septon should look like. He wasn't fat, and his robes were white wool and bereft of ornament. He held a great copy of the Seven-Pointed-Star under his arm, larger than a chopping board, and a long wooden staff in the other hand. His crown was crystal, and stood out starkly as the only piece of opulence he wore.
The rest of the Most Devout were equally austere, their clothes well made but not decadent. While perhaps not muscular or thin, they weren't exactly fat. The ornamentation they bore was spartan and humble.
So this was the face of Faith of the Seven before they moved to King's Landing, back in the days when they still stood in the bastion of learning and piety that was Oldtown and not the viper's nest of corruption and backbiting that was King's Landing. In many ways, that made them more dangerous. These were pious and devout men, men of faith and principles, instead of the corrupt and avaricious priests whom saw the Faith solely as a means to fatten themselves.
Pity. They would be so much harder to bribe. Corruption was as poison. You loved if your enemies drowned in it, but hated if your own countrymen imbibed it. This extended to religion as well. It would have been so much easier if this priest was a fat and gluttonous man with a taste for young boys. Truly, it was a pity.
"Thank you, Lord Hand. The Faith wishes to protest this decision, as it goes against the teachings of the Seven-who-are-One." The High Septon said. "While we have no issue with Princess Rhaenyra being declared heiress to the Iron Throne, and eventually Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, declaring her a man is a violation of the laws of gods and men."
"I understand your point, High Septon, but have the gods not blessed my endeavour?" I asked as piously and devoutly as I could. "When Oscar Tully insulted my mother and my deceased brother —Gods keep them close—as well as my virtue and worthiness as heiress, I accused him of slander and my father had him arrested in rightful wroth. Oscar Tully then challenged his accuser to a trial by combat, to prove his justice, and I agreed to face him.
"The Father smiled upon me that day, proving my accusations true and my cause just. And the Warrior lent me the strength and courage to overcome Oscar Tully, allowing my sword to strike true and slay him and his vile lies." I lied. "Afterwards, I spent a night in prayer, asking the gods for their guidance. And they blessed me with a vision. The Father showed me a vision of me wearing a crown of seven jewels. The Mother showed me a vision of my mother smiling down from the heavens on me. The Smith blessed me with the knowledge of a wonderful machine to spread the light of the Seven, and the Crone gave me the wisdom to search the annals of history, to allow me to sit the Iron Throne in my own right despite the laws of men."
Laenor gave me a very sceptical look at my words, but Laena quickly elbowed him, getting her brother to school his face back into neutrality. There was a healthy dose of scepticism among the court and especially the High Devout, but I unleashed my secret weapon.
"I understand that you may distrust my words as nefarious lies and slander, which is why I shall show proof that the gods have given me their blessings." I beatifically said, gesturing for the machine to be brought in.
A thing of wood, the size of a table, with a large sheet of paper atop the tabletop, and a large die above it, like the stamp press coins were struck on. The machine was placed at the foot of the Iron Throne, for all to see. A second table, one bearing inks and paper was placed next to it, as well as two round stamps the size of plates covered in gooseskin. A third table with many small iron letters in a box was brought out as well.
"Behold. This is the machine whose designs the Smith himself gave me. He told me that it's name is the 'Printing Press' and that it was to be a tool for spreading the light of the Seven at a level unseen since the Andals came to Westeros." I told the dubious crowd. "Uncle Vaegon, a demonstration please."
The entire throne room was silent as the Archmaester took out the small iron letters from the box. Aided by Grand Maester Gerardys, they assembled the letters into a page of words, affixed to a backing of wood. Then, gently, ink was poured into a box with a varnished and waterproof interior. The gooseskin stamps entered the box next, being coated with the ink. After which, they were removed, and the ink dabbed into the iron letters, careful not to put too much or too little.
The maesters then attached the iron page onto the underside of the press, before pulling the level above, causing it to press down and stamp onto the paper. Gerardys pulled the lever back, causing the press to rise once more, and Vaegon pushed the paper atop the table, a series of ball bearings beneath allowing the tabletop to slide forwards, bringing another quarter of the paper underneath the press. Down the press went, one more time before it was raised, and the next portion of blank paper slid under it. It stamped twice more, before it was removed from the pins that held it.
Archmaester Vaegon cut it neatly in four, right down the small folds in the paper, before passing one of four two papers to the High Septon, whom looked at them, wonder in his eyes as he read the words.
"This... this is..." He stammered in disbelief.
"The first page of the Seven-Pointed-Star." I confirmed. Behind me, the two maesters attached a new piece of paper and resumed stamping and inking.
I passed the other three papers to a lord of the Vale, a lord of the Riverlands and a lord of the Reach, the three most devout regions of Westeros, asking that they be gentle when passing it around.
Murmurs full of wonder and disbelief passed through the hall, as they took in the papers. I let them spend some time gossiping in awe and wonder before clearing my throat.
"Behold. With this printing press, we can produce dozens of pages in a matter of moments." I said, as the Dragonseeds walked forwards with the papers produced in the intervening time, holding one up in either hand for inspection. Dozens of copies of the first page of the Seven-Pointed-Star. As people oohed and aahed over the pages and the machine, the doors to the side chambers of the throne room opened up, a company of servants emerging with boxes of books in their hands.
"To every lord and lady present, I offer you all a copy of the Seven-Pointed-Star, produced by this miraculous machine. Septa Myra tells me that it takes the faithful seven weeks to scribe a single copy of the Seven-Pointed-Star. This one machine, has allowed us to produce seventy in those seven weeks."
A disbelieving gasp rang through the room at that. Unsurprising. This was unprecedented. Never before could so many books be produced in so quick a time. And then people began noticing something. That there were more than seventy books being distributed. Way more.
"The Crown offers this printing press, as well as another six of its siblings, to the Faith, as a gift." King Viserys spoke up. "Seven printing presses to produce as many copies of the Seven-Pointed-Star as the Faith requires, in the hopes that one day, every man may have such a book in his home, to keep the gods close."
We'd actually had to outsource for the paper and ink, as even after buying out the stocks of the Crownlands, there was still a deficit. So we had Laena fly Vhagar, Dreamfyre and Vermithor to Oldtown with saddlebags full of coin, and return with saddlebags full of paper and ink.
The maesters in the crowd were looking very lustfully towards the printing press, which was mildly disturbing. Nevertheless, I fulfilled their unspoken wish.
"The Crown also offers another five printing presses to the Citadel as a gift, to use as they see fit." I declared, which made the grey robes look like they wanted to kiss my feet in sheer thanks. Each cost a pretty penny to make, but it was worth every single coin. Once we worked through the initial hurdles, we were able to create more without having to rely on the expensive Myrish engineers. We'd even figured out how to mass produce them quickly, with a primitive assembly line comprised of unskilled labourers, each tasked with making a single part of the machine for final assembly. As such, we had been able to produce twenty of them.
Before long, the clamour died down and the books distributed, the entire room staring at the High Septon in rapt attention. He spoke briefly with the Most Devout, the men huddling and speaking in whispered tones for a few minutes before breaking apart.
"I see, your grace. The Smith himself clearly has blessed you by giving you the designs of such a wonderful machine. I now see that you speak truly, and that the gods themselves have blessed your endeavour. Thus I withdraw my objections to such an arrangement." The High Septon proclaimed, which nearly made me sigh involuntarily in relief. "The gods see beyond us mortal men, and clearly see the wisdom in your princeship and eventual kingship, despite the irregularities."
"Thank you, High Septon." I bowed politely to him. "If I may be so presumptuous, would you kindly accompany me on the morrow? We intend to begin construction of a new Great Sept here in King's Landing in honour of my late mother and would be pleased if you could offer your blessings to the workers.
"The Queen Aemma was a pious and devout woman, and would smile in the heavens should the High Septon himself give the Seven's blessings onto this endeavour." I piously said, inwardly thinking that Aemma would more likely be furious rather than happy.
"Of course! It is heartening to see such piety in royalty. And spreading the light of the Seven is always a task worthy of blessing." He happily agreed, before turning to face my father on the throne. "We thank the Crown once more for it's great gift and will offer blessings in your name to the Seven-who-are-One in our prayers tonight."
He and the Most Devout bowed respectfully before us before retreating back into the crowd.
One hurdle passed. Now for the next.
———
The Northern lords swore themselves to me very quickly and with minimal fuss, respecting my claim. The Vale as well, swayed by the High Septon's open blessing on my princeship. The Crownlands already had their concerns alleviated, and thus swore themselves quickly as well. The Ironborn never showed up for events like this and were ignored as usual.
The Stormlands went next. Led by Lord Boremund Baratheon, they asked Princess Rhaenys about her opinion on the subject, given that her son was being passed over in the line of succession once more. He also unsubtly offered to call the banners in her name should need be. Rhaenys amusedly told him that that wasn't necessary. She herself had made her peace with my princeship and raised no objections. Laena and Laenor corresponded such a statement. As did Lord Corlys.
Lord Baratheon was still dubious about the issue, but Rhaenys walked up to her uncle and whispered in his ear, presumably telling him about the betrothal between Laenor and I, as well as the need to keep it quiet for now, which pacified the man considerably. He knelt before me and offered fealty. Promising to respect my claim to the throne and swearing to fight for my right to sit the Iron Throne. The rest of his vassals swiftly followed suit.
Next up was the Riverlands. I had already met with and apologised to Lord Grover Tully for killing his son and heir Oscar, as well as personally returning the corpse to Riverrun with Silverwing. The man had hated me to the bone ever since. His objections were mostly that I wasn't a real man and dressing me up in pants and laws wouldn't change that. Mushroom proceeded to make a jape that if having a penis was all that was required to be a king, then we should crown him, as he had the biggest cock in King's Landing.
That might honestly have been the first time I laughed at one of his jokes, which was frankly disturbing. But we dismissed Lord Tully's concerns as as far as we were concerned, it was a non-issue. Despite them refusing to swear fealty, I asked that they stay in King's Landing a little longer, as I had some things to show them.
They were followed by the Westerlands, with Lord Tymond Lannister asking if King Viserys would consider remarrying, and offering his daughter Cerelle's hand in marriage. Even as my father denied interest, the rest of the Westermen spoke up, clamouring for his attention, offering him the hands of their unwed sisters or daughters. Lord Tarbeck even offered to let Viserys wed all five of his daughters if he wished, which proved to be the last straw.
"My wife hasn't even been dead for half a year! How dare you even suggest remarriage now?!" My father thundered, eyes alight with rage. "You will swear yourself to my son and once you do so you will never darken my doorstep ever again! Understood?!"
Unwilling to risk further angering the king, the Westermen swore fealty to me before leaving the throne room in a hurry. I made a note to spend some time with them before they left, to smooth over the ruffled feathers.
And so the Reach remained. They asked about the matter of heirs, as if I was a legal man, than could I not marry a man? Uncle Vaegon fielded that question, informing them that the legal fiction didn't stop Lord Freeholders from taking husbands and giving birth to children. I'd take a husband eventually, but for now I was still a girl of eight, and thus the Crown was unwilling to hear of any offers of matrimony.
They also asked about any potential brothers I might have, but Viserys reiterated that I was his legal firstborn son, and that firstborn sons inherited over their brothers. Again, not exactly very convincing, but he seemed to think that that was the be-all and end-all on the matter. Regardless, one-by-one, the lords and ladies knelt before me and swore fealty.
Five out of seven kingdoms swore themselves to me that day, and more importantly, the Faith. It was a good haul as far as I was concerned. The Riverlands were the weakest of the kingdoms and I was going to exterminate the Ironborn at the first excuse I got, so it was no big loss.
While there were still hurdles in the way before I could sit the Iron Throne in my own right, we'd cleared the biggest one. Now hopefully I wouldn't lose the support of the Faith by the time of the Dance.
———
105 AC, Visenya's Hill, King's Landing,
"And thus, I offer my blessings for the construction of the Great Sept of Aemma. May it be great and strong enough to spread the light of the Seven for a thousand years." The High Septon spoke, finishing his sermon blessing the construction of the Great Sept of Aemma.
I'd picked the name as a deliberate PR move. A large amount of my newfound legitimacy among the Faith came from the idea that the gods had blessed me upon my 'beloved' mother's death, empowering me to overcome all naysayers and doubters that would mock my late mother and her child. Hence why I was dedicating this sept to my mother.
And already, the Faith was preaching that the gods had blessed me. The Father had blessed me, as crime in the city was nonexistent. The Mother had blessed me, as the harvest in the Crownlands was the most bountiful on record. The Warrior had blessed me, as I defeated Oscar Tully in a Trial by Combat. The Smith had blessed me, by giving me the designs for the printing press. The Maiden had blessed me, as there had been virtually no crimes committed against women in the city. The Crone had blessed me, shining wisdom into my eyes. A convincing case was even made for the Stranger blessing me, as I had been able to bring many beggars and homeless, outcasts that they were, out of the cold and into the fold.
I deliberately chose not to mention that the reduced crime rate was because all known criminals were now at the wall. The bountiful harvest was due to the new farming methods. I killed Oscar as I took him by surprise. Even though I knew how a printing press worked in my past life, we actually dug up the plans for the current model from the Encyclopaedia of Valyrian Engineering. The lack of crimes against women was due to the aforementioned reduced crime rate. The Haeshaeon Rule was more luck than anything else, not wisdom; I didn't even realise that there was an existing precedent until after I explained to Viserys what a legal fiction was. And honestly, while a good portion of the beggars and homeless were now working as street sweepers and cleaners, I had the Goldcloaks round up the rest, the ones whom were unwilling to do anything but be layabouts begging for coin, and sent them off on ships to the Wall.
Call me harsh if you will, but I didn't have much patience for men whom did nothing but leech off their betters. I was willing to extend the people in the gutter a helping hand, but if they chose not to take it, then my mercy was expended. Already, I was better than my mother, who probably would have outlawed begging and homelessness, before sending every single last one of them to the Wall, never mind that there were those among them who were genuinely trying to escape the gutter.
The sound of a crane moving shook me out of my thoughts. The first support beam was being installed. The crane lifted a great bar of steel, easily thirty feet long each, and thicker than one's doubled fists. It had been shaped into a I-shape, when viewed from above, to maximise material use without compromising strength. The I-beam was placed delicately into a hole that had already been dug, before another machine, the pile driver, created from the Encyclopaedia of Valyrian Engineering, got to work, hammering it into the ground.
Although the construction began on paper today, the truth was that we had spent the three months after the funeral beginning the preparations. The top of Visenya's Hill was bulldozed and cleared, with the property owners being compensated by the Crown. The earth was dug and packed to hold up the weight of the structure above. The criminals we arrested were put to work, labouring day and night to dig the foundations before being sent off to the Wall. Although three months was nowhere enough time for the construction of the foundations of such a building, we found ways to cheat, by digging solely the outermost foundations and a few specific inner ones required for the load-bearing I-beams. The rest would be dug later, after the skeleton of steel had been assembled.
The Most Devout watched with awe as the steel skeleton of the building was slowly created. Watching as the cranes lifted the great bars of steel into their slots and the pile driver hammered it in. Once a sizeable section of the outer wall's skeleton had been created, the cranes shifted, instead hoisting the I-beams up and placing them horizontally atop the pillars of steel. And then came the wondrous part.
Seasmoke and Laenor wandered over. It was among the eight adolescent dragons that had hauled the I-beams up the hill from the Street of Steel. Under Laenor's gentle guidance, Seasmoke breathed grey fire into the points where the steel bars touched, melting and fusing them together with dragonfire. Laena blew the dragon horn once, Command reverberating through the air, ordering the other seven to do the same. And one by one, they did so, welding together the I-beams.
Despite what many would tell you, not every building in Valyria was made out of indestructible dragonstone. From what the Encyclopaedia on Valyrian Construction told me, dragonstone was expensive, and the only buildings made completely out of it were either military bases or the homes of the rich. Instead, they preferred to use it as reinforcements, making I-beams out of the substance and using it to hold up their skyscrapers. Alas, we had yet to figure out how to shape or produce the material, so instead we were forced to use the next best thing, even if the dragonlords of old would call us paupers for it.
Before long, a massive lattice of steel had been created, the cranes lifting I-beams increasingly higher and dragons welding the structure together with dragonfire. And by the end of the day, the skeleton of the outer walls of the Great Sept of Aemma had been created.
———
105 AC, Red Keep War Room
After supper, Lord Lyonel Strong and Lord Lyman Beesbury invited all of the Riverlords to the war room of the Red Keep, where Uncle Vaegon and I had spread a great map of Westeros on the table.
"My lords, thank you all for coming." I began, standing up on a chair such that everyone else in the room didn't tower over me. "I understand that you are unwilling to swear fealty to me, which is why I hope to convince you with my actions instead of empty words and laws."
"Quit the formalities, Princess, just get to the bloody point." Lord Grover Tully growled, the Kingsguard stepping forward in anger before my raised hand stopped them.
"Very well then." I simply said, borrowing Uncle Vaegon's rod of yellow gold before using it to tap the Riverlands on the map. "Do you know what I see here?"
"The Riverlands, your grace." Lord Deremund Darry said, before his overlord could make another belligerent remark. I nodded at him.
"I see that yes, but more than that, I see opportunity." I smiled, tapping another part of the map. "The Triarchy strangles us in the Stepstones, as it remains the only way for the western coast of the Seven Kingdoms to send ships to the eastern coast. I intend to loosen this chokehold."
"I will call the banners! We will happily march to war in the Stepstones if you bid it!" Lord Lymond Mallister patriotically said, thumping his fist on his heart. Lord Tully opened his mouth to object, but I was quicker.
"I like your enthusiasm, Lord Mallister, but we need not go to war. There are other ways to loosen such a grip." I serenely said, tapping just beside the Blue Fork of the Trident, approximately between Oldstones and the Sunset Sea. "There are less than sixty miles of land separating the Sunset Sea from the Blue Fork."
The entire room went still as the implications sunk in.
"Flat meadows and fields, with marshy grounds closer to Oldstone." I continued, highlighting the area of the map with the Archmaester's rod of office. "Digging it shouldn't be difficult, and easier with Valyrian construction and engineering methods, as you have seen employed today in the Great Sept of Aemma."
"You would build a canal? Connecting the Sunset Sea to the Blue Fork?" Lord Asher Frey asked eagerly. As expected of a Frey. He knew money when he saw it.
"King Harwyn Hoare ordered his men to carry their longships overland from the Sunset Sea and into the Blue Fork. And with it, the Ironborn conquered the Riverlands." Uncle Vaegon spoke up, all eyes turning to him. "We can replicate his wisdom here. By making a permanent canal, we can connect the two coasts of Westeros, allowing our traders to bypass the Stepstones and the Triarchy's tolls."
"And all of that coin that they're fleecing off our traders, would go into the coffers of you Riverlords." Lord Lyman Beesbury added. "My calculations imply a potential revenue of hundreds of thousands of gold dragons annually."
The sheer amount of greed and lust in the room was practically a physical thing, as every single Riverlord began salivating at the money to be made. We'd exaggerated the potential profit, but even so, it would be very lucrative.
"And what's the catch?" Lord Lucien Vypren asked suspiciously. He wasn't an ally of mine, unlike Lords Darry, Mallister and Frey, whom I had secretly met with and told them the script to follow for this meeting. Still, he asked the right question anyway, so it was no big deal.
"If you all bend the knee and swear fealty to me as Prince of Dragonstone, then on the morrow, my father will announce the project for the realm to hear, and the Crown will offer its Valyrian construction and engineering knowledge to your maesters to construct the canal with." I flatly told them all. "If you do not, then my father's proclamation will be one forbidding the encroachment of men's works on the pristine Blue Fork."
Lord Mallister immediately fell to his knees. As did my fellow loyalists Lord Darry and Lord Frey. Lords Cox and Haywick, followed suit. The Saltpans nobles knew that the traffic would easily swell their coffers threefold. As did Lords Roote and Butterwell of Lord Harroway's Town, Lord Mooten of Maidenpool and the Lords of Fairmarket. One by one, knees bent, until every single Riverlord north of Riverrun were on their knees before me.
I turned an imperious eye to Lord Tully.
"Still no?" I asked.
"Never. You may have swayed half my bannermen, but your scheme does not benefit the southern Riverlands or House Tully. I refuse." He ground out, shouts of anger coming from the kneelers, but I silenced them with a hand. If they thought that I would go into battle with only one secret weapon, then they were wrong. I'd already gotten agreement for my second plan from all relevant parties an entire week before this very meeting.
"If I agreed to create a second canal between the Mander and the Blackwater Rush, for the ships of the Reach to sail straight into the God's Eye and Stoney Sept, will that be enough?" I asked, tapping the aforementioned part of the map. "You will not even have to even spend a single coin on it. The Reach has been very enthusiastic about it. They've agreed to front all construction costs as long House Targaryen grants them the right to place tolls on it."
And the avarice and greed in the room, already cloying, became suffocating. Almost as one, the southron Riverlords knelt before me. Until all that was left was Lord Tully.
"I will not kneel to a woman like you!" He snarled at me.
"So be it. My father will decree against constructing the canals." I coldly said, stepping down from the chair and making to leave the room, pausing at the door. "You have until court begins tomorrow to reconsider."
The sound the door made when it shut behind me, was awfully reminiscent of a final nail being hammered in a coffin.
———
106 AC, Red Keep
The very next morning, on the first day of the 106th year After Conquest, Lord Grover Tully was found dead in his bed. The maesters of the Riverlords declared it a fit of apoplexy. His heir, eleven-year-old Kermit Tully, led his bannermen in kneeling before me, pledging fealty.
Immediately afterwards, my father announced to the realm that House Targaryen was ordering the creation of three great canals, using Valyrian construction, one to link the Blue Fork to the Sunset Sea, the second to connect the Mander to the Blackwater Rush. And the third, greater than the previous two, to connect the Fever River to the Bite through Moat Cailin in the North.
That night, a white raven came from the Citadel.
Winter had come.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone