章 30: Chapter 27 - The Fox's Due, Part I (New
1 BC
Eyarha Plains
Defeat. A decisive defeat suffered by the Reach in the Battle of the Eyarha Plains. A defeat that would forevermore live in infamy in all of the chivalric kingdom's history.
Throughout its history, the Reach warred with its neighbours over petty and minor disputes, spending countless aeons' worth of men and resources. The Stormlands and the Dornish have always been its primary rivals, though one cannot discount the occasional skirmishes with the Riverlords of yore.
Its long millennia of constant, unending warfare forced the Reach to put its large bountiful fields to use, feeding and supplying the largest armies any one kingdom could field, and its equestrian traditions morphed to field the greatest knights in all of Westeros. Those knights and their levies marched to the drums of war, a great ambition thundering in their hearts, an ambition to end the Dornish threat once and for all.
Conquer the Princedom, they could end all the pillaging, the raiding, the slaughtering [1]. It sounded so grand in their minds.
A grandiose ambition that was snuffed half-way into achieving it.
Of eighty-thousand troops that fought in the great battle, three-quarters were slain, and with them several top-ranking commanders including Theo Tyrell, son of Harlan Tyrell Steward of Highgarden, and the honourable King Mern IX Gardener himself [2].
A true pity, for if not for the Black Fox Mern could have crowned himself conqueror of the Dornish.
Lords sent spies to Dorne, hoping to paint a clearer picture of the aftermath, and what they learn astonishes and confounds them; the remaining survivors are treated and cared for with greater generosity than what prisoners of war were expected to receive. More often than not, only the nobles were treated better than the common soldier.
What they did not know was that the battle had cost Arin a full half of his own army in turn, the Reachmen having given as good as they got, demonstrating their country's martial prestige. Furthermore, Arin's own finances were bankrupt and his logistics strained to the absolute limit as a direct consequence of his ambitious campaign [3].
Despite their victory, the grim reality of the cost of their victory weighed heavily upon the Dornish once the euphoria of victory wore off, and some doubted that even with the Black Fox at the helm, they could continue winning against the Reach if the war dragged on, including some of his staunches supporters.
Such information was a dangerous weapon if it landed in the hands of the enemy, and it became a race against time to secure a favourable ceasefire so that Dorne may rebuild in peace.
IIOII
Brandyll Tarly was brought before Arin Rada in his personal tent, bound tightly in rope, with his inner council and several trusted guards in attendance.
"My Lord, here is Brandyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill," Said the guard with a salute.
"Good, untie him," Arin ordered.
"My Lord?" The guard asked confusedly.
Arin simply stared at the guard, and he quickly complied, untying Brandyll's bonds to the confusion of the other guards and some of Arin's inner council.
"My Lord, what are you doing? He is the enemy's seniormost commander!" Garen questioned.
"Aye, and I brought him here to have a chat with him," Arin answered.
"My Lord, I do not understand," Garen admitted, "You have treated countless Dornish nobles with complete and utter contempt with the wrath you unleashed upon their houses, and yet you wish to talk with a Reachman? They fear my kind thanks to the poisonous teachings of the Faith of the Seven!"
"Garen, there is no need to point out the obvious like that," Huang Xue reminded sternly.
"I-I apologise Your Lordship, but… I am concerned," Garen bowed slightly.
"I know, Garen," Arin reassured, "Don't worry."
Garen simply nodded, stepping back and standing at attention.
"Bring Lord Tarly a chair," Arin ordered.
The guard complied and brought Brandyll a stool, which Arin beckoned for Brandyll to sit on. Brandyll did so, looking like a fish out of water.
Arin took out a crystal-clear glass bottle filled with a dark berry red liquid and two glasses, and popping open the cork, filled the two glasses before offering one to Brandyll.
"Want a drink?"
"...Alright."
Brandyll took the drink despite his hesitation and trepidation, and took a sip. Instantly he was hit with a strong burn in his throat, and he guffawed in response which elicited a slight smile from Arin.
"Omsyak, our trademark drink. Earned us quite a lot of coin in trade," Arin remarked.
"Yeah, I can see why," Brandyll agreed in a hoarse voice, "You don't find any drink this strong anywhere in Westeros."
Arin's smile then faded, and he stared at Brandyll as he regained his bearings.
"So tell me, Brandyll," He asked, "Do you fear me?"
"What?" Asked Brandyll.
"Do you fear me?" Arin reiterated.
"No, I don't," Brandyll answered resolutely, "Not now, or ever."
"May I know why?" Asked Arin.
"Because even if you did manage to hand us a decisive defeat, you cannot hope to win a war of attrition against us even with all your tactics at your disposal," Brandyll answered, not a hint of cloudiness in his eyes, "We conquered the Red Mountains by our might alone, and if you had not intervened, we would have conquered the Desert lords as well; I daresay we could have conquered all of Dorne."
Arin nodded in agreement, taking a sip.
"Do you hate me?" Asked Arin.
"In what capacity do you mean?" Asked Brandyll.
"You tell me," Arin said.
"...I despise you for handing us this defeat, and for costing us so many lives in this battle," Brandyll admitted, "Although to be honest, I do not know you that well aside from what is already known about you, so I cannot say beyond that."
"I should be more cautious of you and King Mern," Arin said, "You did manage to see through quite a number of my tricks."
"That we did," Brandyll smirked, taking another sip, "From what I can tell, your victory over us came at cost."
Arin said nothing to that.
"You were asking me questions, so allow me to pose a question of my own: Why embark on your path as you did?" Questioned Brandyll, his eyes piercing hard into Arin, "Why go so far? For all I know, you could have chosen to observe the rules of war as any noble would. Or rather, what drove you to rebel against House Martell in the first place? I heard the official reason, but I want to hear your personal reason."
Arin's face became forlorn, and he simply stared at his cup of Omsyak as he contemplated his response. Brandyll said nothing as did the others, waiting for him to break his silence.
"I just wanted my people to live in peace," Arin answered, his voice so soft it was barely above a whisper.
"In peace?" Brandyll asked.
Taking a deep breath, Arin said, "We've always been on the short end of the stick for our adherence to the old ways of the Rhoynar, other houses trying to squeeze us dry and House Martell doing nothing to help us. My home province was rather impoverished as a result. When I first started helping my father in government, our neighbours started trying to take us down, quiet at first. Caravans are raided, people go missing and so on."
Brandyll furrowed his eyebrows at this.
"Would that I could, I could have negotiated, and we did try, but we were stonewalled and House Martell failed to lift a finger. At that moment, I knew that House Martell - that no noble House in all of Dorne - could ever be trusted to help us," Arin continued, his eyes twitching as he spoke, "I saw only enemies in every shadow, every corner, every province of Dorne. If I was to ever help my people, my family and friends live a life of peace and security, there was only one option left."
"War," Brandyll answered.
"Yes, war. I took down my neighbours and expanded my power, and once preparations were finished, I went to exterminate every single noble house aside from three houses who sided with me in Eastern Dorne," Arin explained, "Though House Martell did not die by my hands; they committed suicide rather than suffer the indignity of defeat."
Brandyll nodded, "Too proud to even entertain the notion of defeat. Good riddance."
Arin nodded in response, taking a big sip.
"I knew that with all the chaos I stirred in Dorne, anyone of Dorne's neighbours would take advantage and invade, and it happened to be your country," Arin continued, "Hence why I chose to ally with House Targaryen."
"So rather than hold on to pointlessly cheap pride of being a fanatically independent but poor country, you would rather have the pride of uniting and enriching the country in service to the banner of a proud and dictatorial conqueror?" Brandyll questioned.
"Pride matters little when results matter more," Arin answered.
Brandyll downed his glass, and Arin offered his bottle which he accepted, and his glass was refilled.
"So is this what this is about?" Said Brandyll, "Because of your heritage, you were disappointed time and again by the ruling order, sabotaged by cutthroat nobles who would sooner see your house brought low. For that, you decided that rather than be a gentleman who people respect, you would rather be a crafty villain who realises his dreams and aspirations?"
"...You saved me the trouble of explaining it," Arin affirmed.
A low rumbling emanated from Brandyll's chest, and soon the Lord Tarly broke out into a hearty laugh much to the confusion of the others present.
"I see now," Brandyll said, "I suppose embarking on the path you did, maintaining a good reputation was the last concern on your mind; it's hard to not be paranoid of every other noble in your circumstances."
"Not that I am any hero in any capacity," Arin added.
"Then I suppose instead of entering the heavens, you shall instead descend into the Seven Hells. At least, you're prepared to do that much, aren't you?" Said Brandyll.
"What else?" Arin shrugged nonchalantly.
Another silence ensued for a pregnant pause, before Brandyll asked Huang Xue, "You are Huang Xue?"
"I am, Lord Tarly," Huang Xue bowed.
"Tell me, what convinced you to serve Arin?" Asked Brandyll, "I know nothing about Yi-Ti, to be honest, but I do know it is a fundamentally different culture than Westeros."
"You are correct, Lord Tarly," Huang Xue smiled, "In Yi-Ti, whenever a political purge is conducted, not only are the guilty culprits executed, their entire families follow, servants and all."
Brandyll tightened his grip on the glass slightly, his lips turning taut.
"That sounds too heavy-handed and cruel," He said.
"It is a… normal thing there," Huang Xue said, "You must understand that in Yi-Ti, nobles are expected to marry many wives and have many children to ensure the prosperity of their clans. Kill the culprit, and anyone of his sons could exact revenge. They could also choose to disperse themselves in hiding, making it even more troublesome to remove potential political enemies."
"Even then, it just sounds too cruel; to even kill children and babes?" Brandyll said aghast, "I find myself fortunate I do not live in Yi-Ti."
"In Yi-Ti, it is… an expectation among the ruling class to be ruthless and achieve results by any means necessary, even if you do happen to be more compassionate than most," Huang Xue explained, "We place greater emphasis on serving the greater good than our individual desires."
"And so, it is better to be feared than to be loved," Brandyll concluded, "Yet why do the people support Lord Rada, for that matter? This is not Yi-Ti, and I highly doubt your own people would not be apprehensive of their own liege lord's cruelty."
"Because of the benefits he grants them, Lord Tarly," Huang Xue answered, "Just as he granted benefits to the Hydromancers."
"That so?" Said Brandyll, "Archmage Garen, was it? What kind of benefits did he give you and your people?"
"Aside from a safe home and haven to practise our arts?" Said Garen, "He gave us so much more, in exchange for hard work."
"And so, it is better to be loved than feared," Brandyll concluded, "Does this not sound like a contradiction with your established cruelty, Lord Rada?"
"It does," Arin affirmed, "And why to rule effectively, a Lord must know when to use cruelty and when to use kindness, and when to establish a limit in using either."
Brandyll sighed at Arin's words.
"At the same time, there is a limit to how cruel a Lord can be," Arin piqued, "Look at what happened to Rhodry."
"And here I thought you would readily indulge in cruelty," Brandyll remarked dryly, "As evidenced by your purges."
"You and I both know there is a limit to that," Arin pointed out, "And truthfully, it is precisely how powerful cruelty is that it can easily become a double-edged sword that can kill you and your allies as much as it kills your enemies."
"And here I thought you had no limits," Brandyll nodded in agreement, "One more question, if I may?"
Arin gestured for Brandyll to speak.
"You seem to regard both me and King Mern with great respect, and you treat us with greater compassion than what prisoners of war would normally receive. Why is that?" Asked Brandyll.
"It's more a personal thing for me, though I don't deny pragmatism," Arin replied, "You managed to bring the Red Mountain Dornish to heel before marching on the desert, and that takes perspicacity and sagaciousness in a great general. You also ended House Wyl, albeit with my help, and came very close to conquering the Desert lords before my arrival. You achieved a feat no one thought possible in just a few months, and I say that deserves more than a little respect."
"I thought you would resent us instead," Brandyll pointed out.
"Resent? Never," Arin smiled warmly, "Because these troublesome nobles are a primary cause in why we Rhoynar were forced to live as pariahs in our second homeland."
"Is it to do with why the Red Edicts came into force?" Asked Brandyll.
"Not exactly, more with the events precluding their introduction," Arin clarified, "You see, to give a little perspective, these border nobles were causing trouble with their constant raiding not long after Nymeria's Conquest, and some of the Rhoynar agitate for a conquest to bring them to heel. Arguments followed, which turned into a schism, then civil war which saw Dornishman fight Dornishman."
"Then the adherents to the old ways lost, and the rest is history," Brandyll finished.
"And no noble in Dorne ever achieved any great feats in history since the time of Nymeria the Exiled," Arin said mournfully, "Especially not House Martell - Nymeria's descendants - who were content to let their talent rot and Dorne remain in a perpetual state of decay, all the while my people get the short end of the stick."
Arin took a deep breath before exhaling, downing his glass full and moving to refill it. He saw Brandyll offer him the bottle instead, and Arin extended his glass to allow him to fill it.
"Thanks Brandyll," Arin said.
Brandyll simply grunted beneath his breath.
"You know, I often wondered why a monster like you was born into this world, allowed to rampage throughout Dorne, allowed to put an end to our dreams of conquering Dorne and end its raiding ways once and for all," Brandyll muttered, a wistful and distant look on his face, "Countless times, we Reachmen dreamed of and even tried to invade Dorne, yet the moment we do so, our other neighbours invade us - the Westerlands, the Riverlands and the Stormlands. Ironically enough, it was only thanks to both you and House Targaryen that we finally gained the opportunity we desperately dreamed of."
"In fortune there is misery, yet in misery there is also fortune," Arin said, "It's an old saying in Yi-Ti, and one that applies to this scenario."
"Indeed," Brandyll reluctantly said, "Though I suppose some things are simply not meant to be in the end."
Arin said nothing to that, finishing his glass and refilling it one final time.
"So, I take it you will be ransoming us in exchange for our freedom?" Brandyll questioned.
"What else would I do in this situation?" Arin rhetorically stated.
"Then shall we toast one final time, for the peace to come?" Brandyll offered.
"For whatever this peace is worth," Arin agreed.
And their glasses clinked.
IIOII
With Brandyll Tarly sent back to the prisoner enclosure with chains on his wrist, Arin leaned back in his chair, exhaling as if he had just been through an arduous trial.
"My Lord, if I may ask," Began Garen, "Why did you want to talk with him?"
"...Just felt like it," Arin answered slowly, "He was a man who earned his way to becoming one of the Reach's top commanders, a man who worked his way up through his own merits, a man who managed to hold the main camp's defences before I overwhelmed the first and second waves in the Battle of the Eyarha Plains."
"So you felt a kindred soul of sorts, My Lord?" Franklyn asked, "I admit, I also felt a kindred soul in Lord Tarly despite him being our enemy."
"There are times when in battle, generals on opposing sides become good friends who understand each other," Huang Xue smiled, "There have been many instances of such in Yi-Tish history."
"But what do we do about the Reach, My Lord?" Questioned Garen, "I admit I still harbour mistrust for the Reachmen, and who is to say how the Faith will react to the presence of magic users in Dorne? In fact, what is to stop the Reachmen from invading us again when we least need it?"
Due to the sheer cost of their campaign, House Rada was left ill-prepared to continue warring with the Reach in spite of their alliance with the Targaryens. The Reach, on the other hand, still remained a rich and wealthy kingdom, and despite suffering such a costly defeat could easily levy more troops to replenish their numbers given time. Time that neither they nor the Reach had with the encroaching Targaryen menace.
"That is exactly why I treated the Reachmen so compassionately," Arin put forth, "I respect Brandyll, but the world does not move on respect alone and we cannot suppress information on our cost for victory forever. Also, if they spread the stories of our mercy to them, perhaps at the very least, it can open up more avenues in our diplomacy. Besides, powerful and influential as the Faith may be, even they cannot oppose a dragon's might."
"I understand now, My Lord. Thank you for explaining," Garen smiled in relief.
"So what would you have us do now, My Lord?" Questioned Franklyn.
"Send a letter to my sister Nymeria [4]; have her and the best songwriters in Rhoyehom compose a song about the brave last stand of King Mern IX Gardener and have it played to Crown Prince Edmund. Make sure to include every single detail without exaggeration: His bravery, his strength, his tactical brilliance and shining charisma, and the fact he brought me to my knees and came very close to killing me," Arin ordered, "Also, send a letter to Crown Prince Edmund detailing a list of the captured nobles in our custody, along with a total ransom amount we have requested to secure their release."
"As you order, My Lord," Franklyn bowed.
"Finally, send letters to the Targaryens requesting as much coin and supplies as they can send us - materials, food and all. We will need thrice as much gold and material to rebuild Dorne," Arin continued.
"Of course, but will they actually pay the ransom, My Lord?" Franklyn said.
"Considering my reputation and circumstances, they will not risk their lives unnecessarily," Arin answered.
The war for Dorne was over. Now there was one last thing to do before the war for maintaining peace could begin.
[1] One must remember that pillaging and sacking of towns and villages was a very frequent occurrence between the warring kingdoms of Westeros, not only to vent frustrations for the invading army but also to loot food and coin for the troops and nobles, and partially to deny resources to the defenders.
[2] The Battle of the Eyarha Plains and Arin's killing of King Mern earned him the titles of 'Kingslayer' and 'The Hammer', and his name became widely feared among the Reachmen.
[3] With many spies attempting to infiltrate Dorne to get a clearer picture of the battle's aftermath, the Tian Feng Huang were being increasingly stretched thin and barely managing to fend them off.
[4] Nymeria Rada - One of Arin's younger sisters, she is widely renowned for her beautiful singing voice and feminine beauty, having studied in the Musicians College of Arsalm to train and hone her singing talents.
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