章 18: Chapter 16 - Pirates and Cutthroats
Chapter XVI: Pirates and Cutthroats
2 BC
Dragonstone
Sunspear had fallen. House Martell was extinct. All of Eastern Dorne now fell under the aegis of House Rada, the unlikely rebel who now sought to burn all his opposition in a suffocating blanket of ambition in the name of change.
Every single house other than Qeffar, Lleryn and Darrel was now subject to worse horrors to come; for every house, two generations of their eldest males or those above the age of ten-and-two were slain and the rest sent to the Wall. All women and children (those who did not resist) were exiled to Essos. Before long, there remained no viable heirs to these exterminated houses, rendering them extinct and forgotten from history.
In response, new nobles, mayors and clerks were elevated to fill in the ensuing vacancies, a process that would take months but would ensure the stability of eastern Dorne under the rule of House Rada, the new ruler of the Greenblood Dornish.
As for religion, any and all Septons and Septas found guilty of helping opposition militarily were to be rounded up and executed; evidence both true and false destroyed what united cause these clergymen hoped to make, and while none of the Sevenist adherents were happy, the fact Arin did not persecute their faith was the primary factor in ensuring their non-interference.
However, many soon began converting to the Udohanist faith as countless Hanharu proselyte among the people, helping the landless poor with works of charity; soup kitchens to feed, medical hospices to care for the ill and injured, schools to educate the illiterate, and the shows of water magic which both dazzled and healed won countless hearts as compared to the passive Sevenist faith.
Even before Arin's rule was consolidated, he had built an impregnable foundation none could topple.
Such news was unfathomable to a society so used to stagnation, so used to long, unchallenged rule of Great Houses and the preservation of ancient lineages despite their sins over the countless centuries; House Stark never exterminated House Bolton despite their countless revolts, and the latter was guilty of instigating countless uprisings and even fought the former for dominion of the North when the world was yet young.
The news sent the rest of Dorne and the rest of Westeros into an orgy of panic; the Faith went as far as to denounce Arin Rada and his entire family as spawns of the Archdemons of the Seven Hells - cruel, deranged and inhumane beyond all definition - and decried the heretical faith taking root in Eastern Dorne. The Citadel, home to the most reclusive and antiquated scholarly tradition known to man, joined the Faith and countless other nobles in their slander of House Rada, deriding them and dehumanising them in every oratory way possible for the spreading of knowledge and technology.
House Targaryen could hardly care less.
"Once again, he does something completely betraying everyone's expectations," Aegon mused with a laugh, "And to think House Martell - the ruling House of Dorne - would become extinct in just the short span of two to three weeks… how the Gods wreak havoc with our dreams and desires just as they did so with those of the Dornishmen."
"Arin was not guilty of killing them; they simply took their own lives when things went to shit," Visenya pointed out, "And then here come these fools engaging in utterly humiliating tomfoolery without conducting their proper research, using religion as the flimsiest excuse."
Arin's men searched high and wide throughout Sunspear to find Meria, her daughter Deria and Deria's grandchildren, hoping to put a rest to House Martell's legacy. If they were alive, they would have been exiled to Essos, never to return.
And yet, as fate would have it, Deria and her children were found dead in her bedchambers, having imbibed poison known as the Tears of Lys. Meria, on the other hand, died of a failing heart, the news of her son's death and their repeated defeats too much to bear. To all who heard this news, it was nothing more than stubborn Dornish and Martell pride rearing their ugly heads and claiming their lives as they refused to submit to any kind of mercy, kindly offered or otherwise.
When Arin heard this news, he shook his head and heaved a heavy sigh, and ordered that they be offered final funeral rites as per Rhoynish custom; their bodies were placed on canoes and set adrift on the Greenblood River, before being set ablaze by fire arrows. Their ashes would be offered to Nylhoru [1] - the Greenblood River, daughter of Mother Rhoyne.
Thus ended the legacy of House Martell, returned from whence it sprang forth.
"These fossils will say anything they believe is right," Rhaenys added off-handedly, "In any case, with House Martell gone the other Dornish houses will become disunited, will they not? Because I cannot believe they will stay united after House Martell's illusion of unity crumbles away."
"No, they will not," Aegon boldly concluded, "The Houses of the Torrentine especially have always had strong claims as ex-Kingly houses, and House Yronwood remains a powerful house capable of contending with the likes of House Dayne head-on. If anything, it shall be the Reachmen who will make the next move."
"The Reachmen?" Rhaenys questioned, "Now that you mention it… I do believe several Reachmen houses will want to agitate for war now that House Martell is gone."
Aegon nodded with an approving smile, "As we know, our spies report that the Torrentine Houses have wasted no time declaring their independence and warring with each other for control of Western Dorne, no doubt instigated by our staunch ally. King Mern Gardner IX will not hesitate to exploit this advantage, and for all their vaunted fanatical independence and skill with raiding, they cannot match the homeland of chivalric tradition honed by centuries of brutal warfare or the sheer might of the Reach's armies. They will, however, need at least six months to a year to consolidate their new conquests."
"The Dornish will never accept conquest by a foreign power. Then again, fools will be fools, and these Dornishmen doubly so," Visenya concluded, "It's almost disappointing, really."
"Rather than being disappointed, should you not be overjoyed by this instead, dear sister?" Rhaenys questioned, her lilting voice smooth like silk, "After all, if the Dornish pointlessly expend their strength, would they not be ripe for the picking by us and by Arin?"
Visenya smiled wickedly, "Oh, dear Rhaenys, you truly know the right words to capture our hearts."
"Such is the Gods-given truth, Visenya," Aegon said, hugging Rhaenys tenderly from behind, "Dorne aside, how are the Riverlander Houses responding to our offer?"
"They might not like it at heart, but they are surprisingly pragmatic," Visenya answered, "In exchange for fighting under the dragon's banner and liberation from the tyrannical House Hoare, House Tully accepts becoming a vassal of our new Kingdom."
"As it should be," Aegon smiled.
They heard a knocking on the door to their chambers, and a lone servant bowed as he entered.
"My Lord and Ladies, Lord Huang Xue has arrived and come to entreat with you," The servant informed.
"Let him in," Aegon beckoned.
Huang Xue flawlessly curtseyed before Aegon, and a part of Aegon always wondered how did Arin Rada manage to secure the services of this foreigner. Most lords and ladies in Westeros hardly cared for foreigners save travelling merchants or mercenaries, and even fewer sought to meaningfully employ their services for long periods.
Before the rise of House Rada, the Targaryens were the only noble house in all of Westeros who employed the services of the Essosi wholesale as architects, craftsmen and stonemasons, and due to their desire to cultivate a loyal, Valyrian-blooded population, they facilitated their emigration to their island domains, causing their lands to have the largest and only population of silver-haired, purple-eyed people.
When Arin Rada first had his taste of command, he was swift to facilitate the immigration of freed slaves to his domain once his immediate rivals were dealt with. Most lacked proper skills, but Arin simply had them apprenticed to established craftsmen or farmers to learn from, and put them all through proper education so they could become financially secure, thus inculcating in them a loyalty to the Rhoynish way of life.
Some Essosi craftsmen immigrated to his domain as well, dreaming of a new life away from crusty, ancient masters who failed to recognise their talent, or who simply disliked life in their former homes.
It was through the help of these loyal craftsmen that Rhoynish technology and arts [2] were gradually restored to everyday life and society in the Rada domain, improved upon with Arin's otherworldly knowledge and constant trial and error.
"I bid you welcome to Dragonstone, Lord Huang Xue," Aegon smiled, "Tell me, what offer does Arin bring to me this time?"
"Many thanks for your hospitality, Lord Aegon," Huang Xue bowed, "However, I come not bearing profitable offers for Your Lordship, but a request for permission."
Aegon and his sisters raised their eyebrows.
"What sort of request could he possibly require permission for, might I ask?" Aegon questioned, "Surely not to plunder some mystical vaults in Dorne, or to deploy his troops to aid our conquest of the mainland?"
"None of the sort, Lord Aegon," Huang Xue reassured, "He merely requests permission to invade the Stepstones."
Now that had their undivided attention.
"Please elaborate, Lord Huang Xue," Visenya beckoned.
Huang Xue nodded, "As we know, the Stepstone Pirates are an eternal menace to all mercantile shipping between Westeros and Essos, and even took to raiding Targaryen and Rada fleets before being driven back. House Martell also employed these pirates to deal with our navy to no avail. However, these parasites cannot be allowed to continue their existence, plying their misbegotten craft and becoming a thorn in our side as a result. As such, His Lordship Arin Rada humbly requests for your approval to invade the Stepstones, conquer them and annex them as a part of Dorne."
Aegon found himself at a pause, not out of fear or hesitation, but speechless surprise at how bold and unexpected Arin was in his request to him; no one, not even the Dornish nobles, bothered to even conceive of the possibility of conquest of the Stepstones; not once in Westeros's history did its elites ever think of conquering the island chain to eliminate the threat of piracy, too focused on their bitter rivalries with each other to think of the bigger picture.
No one in Aegon's court, much less any of House Targaryen's allies, dared make such a direct request for conquest instead, fearful and uncertain of the Three-Headed Dragon's reaction. And yet Saviour of the Rhoynar [3] did exactly that.
He and his sisters exchanged glances, and while they seemed similarly intrigued by Arin's bold request, ultimately they shrugged and nodded.
"Tell Arin that I grant him his request," Aegon declared, "And that I wish him the best of luck in subjugating the errant pirates."
"Many thanks, Your Lordship," Huang Xue bowed smilingly, "I shall take my leave now."
"Of course, do not let me keep you," Aegon waved off.
As if Arin needs good luck; he is already blessed in his own capacity, Aegon mirthfully contemplated, He clears the pirate dens, we maintain our trade, and strikes fear into the hearts of those misbegotten Essosi merchants who think themselves above the rule of the dragon.
Aegon and his sisters smiled, happy that Arin was so eager to be their errand boy.
IIOII
Highgarden
The court of House Gardner was a highly extravagant and rambunctious meeting of all the pompous and affluent nobles of the homeland of chivalry. The Reach, boasting a long, proud tradition of chivalry rivalling the Vale, produced some of the finest knights Westeros had ever seen. Home to large fertile flatlands, the Reach is by far the second-wealthiest Kingdom and breeds tough, strong horses proudly used by their knights.
As the largest-sized Kingdom possessing the most fertile land, the Reach also supports the largest population of the Seven Kingdoms, and thus is also capable of fielding the single largest army in all of Westeros.
Now, as the king of this most powerful and glorious kingdom, King Mern Gardner IX sat and listened to yet another round of boring, monotonous politicking, resting his elbow on an armrest and leaning his head upon his left hand and seemingly dozing off.
"My King, it is rather unsightly to nap in the middle of court," He heard a soft, wizened voice whisper into his ear.
Mern opened one eye to look at Harlen Tyrell, Steward of Highgarden. An old, wizened man, he carried himself with pomp and poise befitting a high noble, and his old brown eyes shone with sharp intellect and wisdom, his grey hair trimmed and neatly combed. A role model of loyalty, diligence and competence, many nobles aspired to follow his example despite his lack of martial talent - a man who rose to power through his bureaucratic talents alone.
"They're too busy arguing and bickering over the smallest things, Harlan; let them do it as much as they want," Mern whispered back, hiding a smirk, "After all, kings always have to deal with a court of imbeciles with mindless bodies."
Harlan simply rolled his eyes, "I suppose if they do see you napping, they'll suddenly feel embarrassed and become quiet as mutes instead."
"That's what it is," Mern shrugged smilingly.
Just then, a lone messenger entered the throne room, and all the background politicking was silenced as he fell prostrate before the King, calm and polite in his decorum.
"Your Grace, I bring news from Dorne," He greeted, head bowed low and eyes fixed on the King, "House Martell is extinguished as are dozens of other noble houses! All of Eastern Dorne now falls under the rule of House Rada!"
Silence ensued, silence so deep one could hear a coin drop throughout the stone halls of Highgarden's ancient throne room.
Then pandemonium ensued as the gathered nobles threw all manner of accusations and questions towards the poor messenger, who hung his head as he weathered all the verbal abuse thrown his way, trying his hardest to become the smallest and most insignificant existence in the throne room.
Mern banged a fist upon his throne's armrest, rising to his feet and bellowing, "Silence! Is this the court of the great, chivalrous and honourable Reach, or a pack of headless imbeciles!?"
Chastened by Mern's outburst, the nobles bowed their heads and meekly parted, and the messenger breathed a small sigh of relief.
"Now, messenger. Please explain exactly what happened in Dorne?" Mern beckoned gently.
"Yes, Your Grace," The messenger bowed, heaving a sigh of relief, "According to news from Dorne, House Rada has conquered Sunspear and driven House Martell into extinction. Here is where the news contradicts; some say that House Rada found the children and Princess Meria already dead, having imbibed poison to spare themselves dishonour and humiliation; others say that Arin ordered their execution, unwilling to tolerate their continued existence."
Mern frowned heavily at this news as did Harlan and the Reach nobility.
"Continue," He beckoned.
The messenger nodded, "With the fall of Sunspear and House Martell, the remaining Greenblood Dornish houses began feuding with each other, weakening each other and leaving them vulnerable to conquest by House Rada. Furthermore, the Red Mountain and Desert Dornish have declared their independence from House Rada and began fighting each other in turn for Kingship of Dorne. That is all we managed to learn so far, Your Grace."
Mern nodded noncommittally, "You are dismissed."
"Your Grace," The messenger bowed, excusing himself.
The nobles began whispering again, this time much more subdued with a cautious hope blooming in their eyes. Mern and Harlen in particular exchanged discretionary glances, whispering among themselves.
"Are you thinking what I am thinking, Harlen?" Asked Mern.
Harlen nodded slowly, "I am no military man, Your Grace, but there is no better time to invade Dorne."
"And if we are to invade, we must strike hard and fast with all our might," Mern stated, "We cannot give the Dornish any reprieve for them to strike our supply caravans."
"Houses Dayne and Yronwood will be the most powerful and troublesome to deal with, but House Wyl is an especially difficult enemy; I'm surprised House Martell failed to tighten their leash on them," Harlen continued.
"House Wyl [4] is a weak house living on borrowed time," Mern remarked, "They cannot possibly withstand an army fivefold larger than theirs. Perhaps the only thing the Dornish will thank us for - as well as our ancestral rival [5] - is the extermination of House Wyl. Dare I say House Rada might thank us for that too, unlikely as that seems?"
"No, I fully believe they will thank us, if only because we rid them of unnecessary baggage," Harlen concluded, "If Arin was willing to exterminate House Martell, they'll be willing to render unto House Wyl the same service. Also, I believe we can leave the Desert Dornish alone for the time being; the Red Mountain Dornish take priority."
"Indeed," Mern agreed, "Trying to conquer the desert will require us to maintain a wasteful supply chain, and there is nothing worth conquering there with how sparsely populated that region is, while the Mountain Dornish are among the most powerful houses and thus will pose the greatest threat to our campaign."
"Then it's settled," Mern shrugged.
He rose to his full height, imposing as a masculine giant, radiating an air of confidence honed from years of countless battles against his neighbouring rivals.
"Silence!" Harlen bellowed.
The command was repeated a few times, and the court fell silent once again, eagerly looking to Mern for his next command.
"My proud countrymen, we stand at a crossroads in our history - in the history of all of Westeros!" Mern began, voice loud and clear, echoing throughout the throne room, "With the fall of House Martell and the splintering of the once-united Dornish, there is a Seven-given opportunity for us Reachmen to exploit! And exploit it we shall, to humble the arrogant and deranged Dornish once and for all!"
"Hear, hear!" The nobles echoed.
"For too long have the Dornish been allowed free reign to raid, pillage and plunder our borders and that of the Stormlands, and each time they did countless thousands of innocent Smallfolk have been slain by their wicked sabres and spears! Now, the Seven have seen fit to punish these errant Dornishmen, throwing their lands into turmoil by the hand of Man - by the man named Arin Rada!"
"Down with the Dornish, down with the Dornish!" The nobles chanted with increasing fervour.
"And now, what better time is there than to initiate our conquest of Dorne!?" Mern chanted to the cheering of his countrymen, "So I say now, it is time to wage war upon our ancestral enemies! It is not a simple war of defence or retaliation, not a meaningless border dispute! Nay, this is a war of vengeance unlike any other! This is a war to avenge the countless humiliations and sins the Dornish have wrought upon us! This is a war that shall see the scourge of Dorne annihilated once and for all!"
And all the court burst into cheer and applause, celebrating Mern's newfound ambition.
"Mern! Mern! Mern!"
Thus the Reach was roused to war, and Mern would spearhead an invasion of Dorne unlike any other, an invasion that would see Dorne permanently humiliated to the satisfaction of the Seven-who-are-One.
May the Gods have mercy on the Dornish, for the Reachmen shall show them none.
[1] Nylhoru - Means 'Green Daughter', the Rhoynish name for the Greenblood River.
[2] The Rhoynar were among the most technologically and culturally advanced and on par with the Valyrians before their downfall. With help from Essosi craftsmen and artisans, the Rhoynar have reclaimed their own advancements, and now they produce high-quality goods that enrich House Rada in trade and make the Andals look barbaric in comparison.
[3] Saviour of the Rhoynar - A title given to Arin Rada after his conquest of Sunspear and the downfall of House Martell.
[4] House Wyl - Their ancestral castle - sharing the same name - is situated in the Boneway, a snaking pathway through the Northern Red Mountains leading to the Marches of the Stormlands, and has utilised a massive tunnel network starting beneath their castle to contribute to the defence of their home.
A notoriously difficult and heinous house, its sins are countless, and despite nominally owing fealty to House Martell, has been the source of no small amount of trouble for both their suzerains and all of Dorne with their constant, uncalled-for raids.
[5] The Stormlands has been an ancestral rival of both the Reach and Dorne, fighting with them for control of the Marches - which Dorne insists are called the Dornish Marches - a fertile land capable of supporting a strong agricultural economy. He who controls the Marches controls a decent portion of manpower. Due to the constant border skirmishes, however, the Marches is not a very populated region and defensive forts are often demolished with little time to build them back up before the next skirmish.
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