章 25: Chapter 23 - Questioning Motives
Edit: Changed the chapter to reflect that Arin was no longer a kinslayer, he just had his uncle executed.
Chapter XXIII: Questioning Motives
1 BC
Sandstone
The following day, Rhodry was brought out in rags and placed onto the bare ground, his knees and elbows bandaged. Rhodry ranted, screamed and raved at the top of his lungs, but he could not thrash his limbs around, could not struggle against his captors who dragged him like garbage to be thrown away.
"Fuck! I'm the Lord of House Qorgyle, of Sandstone! You can't treat me like this!"
"Just shut up and accept your death like a man," One of the men dragging him said.
Curious onlookers gathered to witness the broken form of Rhodry Qorgyle, some of them immediately crying foul and hurling curses at the man. Such people had to be restrained by both the guards and their friends and family who held them back. Others settled for throwing rotten vegetables and fruits at Rhodry, staining the sand with refuse.
A lone man stood upon a podium, his voice echoing loud and clear for all.
"For the crimes of familial abuse, kinslaying against his in-laws, bribery, blackmail, manslaughter and deception, Arin Rada has condemned Rhodry Qorgyle to death. His sentence is to be pulled apart by horses."
Kinslaying was a taboo throughout Westeros, heresy of the highest order. None who committed the crime could truly absolve themselves of it, and the only other acceptable sentence save the death penalty was exile to the Wall. Gasps of shock and horror echoed among the audience; they knew Rhodry was guilty of a legion of crimes, but never kinslaying.
And since he was guilty of killing his in-laws…
They saw four men approach with ropes and four horses, and the ropes were quickly tied to his arms and legs. Rhodry's ranting and raving turned into weeping, sobbing and screaming, pleading with his captors to release him or grant him a quick death upon realising what was happening to him.
But his pleas fell on deaf ears.
The man on the podium shouted: "Execute!"
And the execution began, the guards beckoning the horses to start running. Rhodry's screams of pain reached a feverishly high pitch, threatening to deafen most of the onlookers, the ropes straining to pull apart bone, sinew and muscle.
Then a shower of crimson followed as his limbs were finally pulled away, and Rhodry's cries and screams were mercifully cut short. The onlookers gasped again, some retching in a corner, but none gave the poor man a look of pity, only looks of scorn and vindictive satisfaction.
It was as if a ray of hope shone upon the people of Sandstone, that they could finally have justice meted out for the victims of Rhodry and all his victims.
True to their expectations, Arin and his people were not yet done; criminals were subject to brutal torture and their corpses put on full display, and countless nobles and other high-ranking or powerful persons of note were never seen or heard from again, their lackeys following suit.
A wave of euphoria took over the subjects of House Qorgyle despite the encroaching Reachmen menace, believing that a new age of peace and security had come to brighten their dreary lives. Rhodry's son Lweyn was named the new Lord of his house, bending the knee to Arin Rada in exchange for his protection, and he promised his house's levies to the upcoming campaign.
Others did not see it his way, and in a small secret meeting room obscured to all but those in the know, several nobles gathered within.
IIOII
Secret Location
"My brothers and sisters," The leader began with solemnity, "This meeting is convened because we now face a threat far greater than the invading Reachmen, a threat far closer to home: Arin Rada."
Many subtle nods were made by the nobles as the leader continued.
"It is clear that this… Black Fox, this monster, this archdemon, knows no limits - he knows not the word 'taboo'. He not only purged countless noble houses and wiped them from existence, he even performed the most inhumane executions upon them! And now that he has had his own uncle executed, we will be next! We will not sit idly by and accept defeat as this monster destroys our way of life, our claims to glory! We sat idly by when House Martell and all its loyal houses went extinct! We sat idly by when all Eastern Dorne fell under the Black Fox's rule and the Torrentine fell to the Reachmen! Yet, I must bid all of you to bide your time."
There was some disgruntlement among the gathered audience.
"I know you dislike waiting, eager to stop this menace in its tracks, but as much as I despise admitting this we know that without Arin Rada, we have no chance of driving back the Reachmen. Dorne is independent and always shall be, and we shall bow and scrape to neither Targaryen lapdog nor foreign conqueror!"
"Hear, hear!" The audience chanted with smiles and vigour.
"And so, I propose this plan: We wait out the battle, and once the Reachmen are driven back Arin will surely call for a council to organise the appointment of new nobles to their positions. On that day, we shall spring a trap for both him and his inner council, and once we cut the head off the snake, the unity of his men shall crumble like water on a rock! Dorne may no longer be united, but at least we shall preserve our independence!"
"Hoorah!" The nobles cheered.
Once the cheers died down, one of the nobles posed a question to the speaker, "But My Lord, why do you sound certain of the Reachmen's defeat?"
The leader inwardly resisted the urge to sigh heavily before answering, "Against a monster like Arin Rada, does King Mern IX Gardener have any chance?"
The one who asked could not answer, shrinking under the piercing, hurtful gazes of all others present as he awkwardly retreated to the rear.
"That will be all for now," The leader declared, "We shall convene again on a future date to discuss our plan of taking down the Black Fox."
As everyone filtered out of the meeting venue, however, no one noticed the same noble who posed the foolish question discreetly eyeing the noble leader with a sharp gaze, like a hawk's eyes. As he left, he walked briskly with a hidden haste in his step, indiscernible to the ordinary eye.
Once he reached a certain junction, he took a sudden turn into an alleyway followed by several more turns before entering through the backdoor of a house. Once inside, the spy saluted his superior who acknowledged him with a nod.
"Report."
"Aye ma'am, I've compiled a list of names who have attended the meeting," The spy reported crisply, "They plan to betray His Lordship once things have settled down in Dorne."
The spy passed Sainalia a piece of paper from the folds of his cloak, and as Sainalia read the names listed, she instantly frowned heavily and exhaled heavily through her nose.
"Thank you for your report," Sainalia said, "Mingle further with the collaborators and keep me updated on any changes to their plans."
"Aye, ma'am," The Spy saluted.
Sainalia nodded, "You're dismissed."
As the spy left, Sainalia reclined in her chair, staring out the window with a palpable sense of disappointment.
"We are ourselves our greatest enemy… and snakes poison each other as much as their prey."
Fishing out some paper, she drafted some orders and then stamped them with the seal of the Tian Feng Huang, before having another spy deliver them. For now, all she could do was wait.
IIOII
Eyarha Plains
The Reachmen Expeditionary Force wasted no time in its forced march towards the province of Eyarha. Having heard that the tyrannical Rhodry Qorgyle was executed for countless crimes including kinslaying, they hoped to take advantage of the ensuing power transition and quickly force the locals into submission.
The new Lord of Eyarha, Lewyn Qorgyle, was an untested ruler wet behind the ears, lacking in experience, but he pledged his fealty to Arin Rada in exchange for protection, adding an element of urgency to their campaign.
Having reached the Eyarha Plains a full day early, the Reachmen camped for the night, exhausted horses and levies grateful to finally rest their aching legs and quench their thirst. Gathering in the command tent, King Mern and his war council convened for the final time before tomorrow's battle.
"To think that Arin would end one of the most tyrannical rulers in all of Dorne… Now I am convinced Arin is a servant of the Seven sent to punish all of Dorne for its wrongdoings," Mern commented with a low tone of respect, "But mortal servants can neither live nor rule forever."
"If we kill Arin, we may gain the support of the Red Mountain and Desert Dornish against the Greenblood Dornish to the east," Brandyll added, nodding with a severe frown, "Even though Rhodry's crimes are known to all, Arin will not earn many friends among the Red Mountain and Desert Dornish outside of Sandstone due to his growing power. On the off-chance he defeats us - which I find highly unlikely - it may drive his rivals to do something drastic."
"And yet for some inexplicable reason, even if they in turn become more fearful of Arin, the Greenblood Dornish will never turn on him," Mern stated darkly, grimacing as he stared at the map of Dorne like it was a repugnant thing, "Though it does make sense in a hugely twisted way; in House Rada's heartlands, they enjoy riches and security beyond their wildest dreams, and every year since Arin succeeded his father as Lord of House Rada, there has been a new invention or a strengthening of governmental institutions which further enhanced his absolute power over the minor Houses, or so the story goes. Furthermore, the Greenblood Dornish are descendants of the Rhoynar who themselves were persecuted by House Martell since the time of the Red Princes, so they hold fanatical loyalty to him for the end of House Martell's rule."
"But the people had converted to worship of the Seven since the Red Princes, so why is it that they owe their loyalty to Udohanism, now?" Questioned Brandyll.
"It is what the Udohanists do for the less fortunate that has won their hearts," Mern answered, "According to rumours and official sources, Udohanist temples created soup kitchens distributing free food rations to the poor and hungry, and offer free medical treatment to the sick and ailing, sometimes even free education to willing children and adults. In exchange, House Rada funds their charity, which is far more than what the Faith has ever done for its own flock."
Left unsaid were the unsavoury practices the Faith of the Seven practised; exemption from taxes allowed them to live luxurious lives the envy of countless smallfolk, and some of the high-ranking septons even indulged in the flesh trade, which was forbidden given their oath of celibacy.
High-ranking lords and ladies who dealt with the Faith were aware of these crimes to a greater extent, though it spoke volumes about the Faith's power and influence that no noble ever dared cross them lightly. Neither did they perform the acts of charity the Udohanists did for the poor and downtrodden.
"But would that not pose the risk of making the Udohanist faith more powerful than House Rada?" Brandyll questioned, "I do not claim to understand how organised religions work, but by providing them more coin, would they not eventually pocket it for themselves when some of their members grow greedy?"
"I think we all know what kind of person Arin Rada is by now," Mern pointed out.
Brandyll and all the other gathered nobles spoke nothing to that; it would be no surprise if he did the same to the Faith of the Seven as he did to the noble houses he exterminated.
"So that means the Udohanist faith is under his complete control," Brandyll echoed the thoughts of everyone in the command tent, "Then again, everything under his rule is under his complete control."
"He has to be in total control, at least for a full decade before he can afford to relax his policies," Mern affirmed, "I have to give it to him, though; the cunning fox achieved in weeks what would take lions, vipers, stags and eagles years or even decades to achieve."
"You cannot possibly be accommodating of this monster, Your Grace!?" A noble gasped, his face the epitome of revulsion.
"Of course not, how can I abide this epitome of cruelty?" Mern retorted, chastening the nobleman yet eliciting subtle expressions of relief from the gathered commanders, "Nevertheless, time is against us; our scouts already report that the Targaryens, having consolidated their rule over the Riverlands and the Iron Islands, are now moving towards the Vale. It will not be long before they turn their greed towards the Westerlands and then us."
The grim reminder of the Targaryen menace served to strengthen the resolve of the gathered Reachmen; the thousands of troops incinerated by their dragons was ample reminder of their unassailable strength, and the Burning of Harrenhal [1] showed the inadequacy of legendary stonework against their molten breath as hot as the sun itself.
Though between the Targaryens and Arin Rada, defeat at the hands of the latter was the absolute worst of the two in their minds.
"Now, where do you believe we should do battle with Arin, Brandyll?" Asked Mern.
"It will be at the Eyarha Plains, where we can unleash the power of our cavalry," Brandyll answered, "Naturally, we must face their famed chariots as well, and here is where our cavalry plays an important role; if we can lure them into pincer movements, we can whittle them down to more manageable numbers. We must also make use of the scorpions [2] we looted from some of the Dornish armouries we found, so we can pick off their horsemen and siege engines. Our largest challenge will be the fact that we barely fought Arin's armies, and thus we are in the blind as to their style of tactics aside from that one time with Theo Tyrell's vanguard."
"While I dislike going in blind myself, we've come too far and spilt too much blood to back out now," Mern declared softly, "Whatever comes our way, we weather and push on like a mountain against a tempest."
"Like a verdant forest nourished by green thumbs," Brandyll intoned.
"That will be all for now," Mern concluded, "All of you are dismissed. Brandyll, you stay."
"As you command, Sire," The nobles echoed, filtering out of the tent one by one.
Once Mern and Brandyll were alone in the command tent, Mern was the first to break the silence.
"Something about this does not feel right," He muttered.
As if to answer Brandyll's confusion, Mern proceeded to say, "It just does not feel right; if Arin wanted to have his uncle executed, he could have settled for simply beheading him. Why go so far as to have him… torn by horses? The brutality of this sentence is… it just seems unnecessary."
"It could be to discourage kinslaying by others, to demonstrate the consequences to everyone who sees and hears of it," Brandyll answered, "I mean, Rhodry did break the greatest taboo of all."
"Yes, but no lord or king in the history of Westeros ever practised such a brutal punishment for anyone, much less scions of an ancient house," Mern reiterated, "We could simply pass it off as Arin's usual streak of cruelty reserved for wrongdoers, perhaps I could be overthinking it. Maybe that is the case."
"And yet you seem disturbed by something," Brandyll concluded, "I cannot believe that man phases you so much."
"It is not him that gives me cause for concern, rather the absurdity of his methods," Mern countered, "Arin should have known that his overly cruel execution method for Rhodry, combined with his purging of all the nobility of the Greenblood Dornish, will evoke a response from the surviving Dornish nobles. He cannot possibly be ignorant of it all; his actions just do not make sense. Even the Targaryens did not slaughter nobles wholesale in their conquest."
And Brandyll immediately understood what Mern's words meant.
"Your Grace, do you mean to say Arin is plotting something?" He inquired.
Mern simply sighed, lips thinning into a tight frown, "It's a certainty at this point."
"But why?" Asked Brandyll.
"I don't know," Mern answered, "And there is something else that does not make sense; despite his admittedly brutal manner of dispatching Theo and his commanders, we have to admit they treated our dead far better than the dead of their own countrymen; Rhodry and his lackeys were mutilated, for example, while Theo and our comrades were returned with their bodies intact."
"But why? Are we not Dorne's ancestral enemy?" Brandyll questioned, "Dornishmen would consider Reachmen and Stormlanders their natural enemies due to our shared history of bloody warfare, yet Arin seems to regard his own countrymen as the real enemy instead."
"You are right, Brandyll," Mern nodded, "It is clear his true enemy is not from outside Dorne, but within. Think, why else would he exterminate countless Dornish houses whose histories stretch back to the time of Nymeria's Conquest? Or rather, why would he need to go as far as to tell the entire world of what he had done?"
Brandyll felt his hand clasp his mouth in a mixture of confusion and fear, sweat dripping down his cheek.
"...You believe he is laying a trap for his own countrymen?" He questioned, "His fellow nobles?"
Mern's look of resigned acceptance gave him the answer he was looking for, and Brandyll heaved a heavy sigh.
"I suppose in a way, it does make sense; our worst enemies are always those coming from our own side," Brandyll nodded, "And yet he went about it in a very… how do I say this? A very dramatic way? As if he needs to make theatrics for the whole spectacle? Or maybe he somehow thinks the entirety of Dornish nobility is a scourge upon his country he can do without."
"Most likely, that is the exact reason why, hard as it is to comprehend," Mern nodded sagely, "Rhodry was an exception as was House Wyl, but this is wholesale slaughter."
"Then I suppose we'll get the real answer out of him once we defeat him," Brandyll shrugged, "Even though I admit, I might not be looking forward to talking with him; for all I know, he might be better off dead than alive."
"Perhaps so," Mern nodded, "At least there is a bright side to it all; with Arin's purges, there is no other governing body the Greenblood Dornish have to look forward to, and if we kill him and his most loyal people, the rest will have no choice but to fall into line. We may have to deal with the occasional revolt here and there, but there will be no one else significant to oppose the Reach."
"Then let us pray for a fortuitous victory in the battle to come," Brandyll said, a cautious hope blooming in his heart.
"May the Seven protect us all," Mern concluded, "Tell the men to get some rest; we march at dawn."
"As you command, Your Grace," Brandyll bowed.
[1] Burning of Harrenhal - As the name says, it is the burning of the massive castle complex in the Riverlands which served as capital of the Ironborn Hoare Realm. Too proud, arrogant and defiant to bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen, the conqueror burned the castle atop Balerion in response, making an example of House Hoare as stone melted under the dragon's fiery breath.
It served to break the backbone of Ironborn unity and power as they fractured and fled to their home in the Iron Islands, which the Targaryen assaulted after destroying the entirety of their naval power in several battles.
[2] House Rada's rapid growth in power under Arin's leadership led to a scare among all Dornish noble houses, forcing them to bolster their own militaries and increase their stockpiles of equipment in preparation for the inevitable conflict with this upstart house, which naturally included siege equipment like scorpions.
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