Capítulo 29: The Bittersteel
The coast of Crackclaw Point was a black line across the horizon, dividing the grey sea against the pale sky. I stood on Prince Daemon's prow and allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief.
For more than a week we had been at sea, sailing from the Disputed Lands to stop at Pentos for supplies before finally heading to Westeros proper. Days had been spent on deck with the sun beating down mercilessly on our heads, the heavy canvas rippling above us, the wild cry of the wind and the rush of waves in the choppy waters called the Narrow Sea. In the holds we feasted on salted pork tough as leather, stale bread that could be confused for rocks and, on occasion, biscuits flavoured with tiny worms. When not ensuring the boat wasn't sinking, legionaries contented themselves with pissing and shitting, playing dice or wrestling each other on deck whilst others gambled. My lessons continued and Lemore said it was only by the Seven's grace we hadn't faced any storms nor bad winds to force us back or, worse, capsize the boat so we'd be dragged into the depths below. Behind our flagship were more than a hundred vessels: lean galleys crammed with marines watching for every potential threat as they escorted fat-bellied cogs carrying horses and men, Homeless Harry's treasured elephants as well as invaluable war material. Should the worst come to pass and we sink, the depths would be the graveyard of twenty-two thousand men, several thousand horses, a couple dozen elephants, and nearly a thousand knights. Even entire families of camp followers who trailed behind the host wherever it went and provided services like clean clothes, cooked food and a body to warm the sheets.
I stood at the front of the armada, my gloved hands tightly clutching the thick rope. I was scared but I couldn't admit such a thing publicly. This wasn't like fighting sellswords or Dothraki. We were attacking a far numerically superior enemy in its own territory, where it knew the land and could shelter in fortified strongholds. I felt the fear coming down on me like a morning fog, eating away at my guts, gnawing the strength from my bones. I imagined what would happen should I fail. Should I die. The spear punching through my gut, the sword breaking through my guard to embed in my skull, the bursting of ribs and crushing of organs. I could taste the blood in my mouth and feel coldness engulf me.
I shook my head, tightening my grip as I felt my legs about to give way beneath me. I couldn't let myself worry so I took a deep breath and felt the cold ocean air fill my lungs and clear my crowded mind. I had done all I could. There was no way to back down now.
Despite being worried, another part of me was actually excited. The same excitement I felt when I fought with sword in hand. The days we fought in the Disputed Lands had been the greatest days of my life. Of both my lives. If I'd the option to go back to London and live a life of being a cog in a machine instead of the foreman, I would refuse with a smile and never look back. Here, even if I failed to conquer Westeros, I would still achieve something. Despite everything, I felt happier and more emotionally fulfilled than I ever felt in my old life which was like floating in a river of apathy and every day merged with the last. Here I have power and a girl with purple eyes . . .
Surrounding me were hardened men, their skin tough as leather and tanned by the Essosi sun. Seasoned legionaries wise in war and well-versed in battle. While most of my legion were green and untested, the men I'd titled the Dragonguard were anything but. They were my Praetorian Guard, though I hoped they would prove more loyal than the Praetorians ever were. Selected personally by Myles and Connington, these men would be protecting me with their lives. I felt some comfort in that. There was no way Blackheart would let me go on my own despite his threats of doing so when he grew wroth with me.
I turned to the neighbouring carrack that could only be from the Free City of Tyrosh. Its deck bustled with fighting men shouting colourful insults towards my cohort's direction and my crew returned in kind. "That's more curses than I'd ever imagine hearing in a lifetime," I mused loudly.
"You made that very hard," spoke my adjutant wryly. He stood still as a statue and I took comfort with him beside me. Dalabhar looked invincible - a giant clad in steel. The Summer Islander wore a knee-length mail hauberk that seemed too tight around his vast chest, heavy plate over that, lobster steel gauntlets, heavy leather boots reinforced with steel tips, a heavy belt studded with iron and hanging from that was multiple daggers, a forward curving sword and a sinister axe from the Summer Isles. On one brawny shoulder rested a gleaming poleaxe made extra-large for his height, and on the other one was a goldenheart longbow. He was fully kitted for war and might very well be the most terrifying thing in my arsenal that breathed, even scarier than the dragons.
"It's because the men give me competition," I laughed, running a hand through my silvery curls. "This is going to be a tough campaign. To be honest, I'm dreading it."
The exiled prince chortled and gave me a friendly bump on the shoulder, almost sending me barrelling into the sea. "We'll be in the thick of it. Don't you worry, legate. It's going to a brawl, nice and bloody. Mark my words. It'll be a fine day to kill."
Dalabhar than offered me a lopsided smile that only made him look more intimidating. How was that possible? He could scowl and frown and grimace with the best of them, but that were nowhere near as intimidating as his smile. He was the most stoic person I knew, but the few times his mask broke it revealed a man who found joy in battle and the face of death. He was no different from many in the Company, and I honestly couldn't blame them. Adrenaline was a powerful drug. When it was pumping through my veins I felt powerful. Like nothing in the world could stop me. It would be natural for some people to build an addiction to the feeling and come to see war as little more than a good time.
"But hopefully not to die," I smirked at him. "Tell me, adjutant. Do you have any plans for when we win this war? Do you plan to return to the Summer Isles?"
"No, legate. I was banished and have no plans to regain my holdings as you dragons do. I have made peace with my exile, and it would look bad on me if I did return. What I had done was dishonourable and exile's more merciful than what I rightfully deserved. Besides, we Summer Islanders are born adventurers and sailors. I wouldn't mind doing some of that when I've earned enough coin."
"You know, Dalabhar, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to take charge of this trading company I'd half a mind to build once the throne is Daenerys'. A Westerosi company to take charge of shipping as far as Qarth and Yi Ti. Most of the current trade is done by independent captains or trading cartels within the Free Cities, and not organised Westerosi operations. I think it could become quite profitable, and who better than you to lead it? You're the best organiser I know, and you know ships. Luxury goods are costly and should such a business open up and hold a monopoly, we could make a kingly profit."
Thankfully he seemed intrigued. "And who makes money off this company? I'm assuming the crown."
"Anyone who invests money into it. Everyone should be able to buy shares, though the crown will, of course, be the dominant shareholder." That was what many Essosi companies did - like Illyrio's own - and they made an absolute killing. Why shouldn't Westeros jump onto the bandwagon? Dalabhar didn't say anything but, from the look in his eyes, I had him. Trade generated coin and coin was the lifeblood of empires. I needed much coin for what I had planned which would see Westeros become an industrialising superpower.
As we passed the Bay of Crabs, we soon caught sight of cliffs and trees, sandbars and dunes, hills and petty fishing villages clinging to the coast. Crackclaw Point was a divided land full of hardy clans descended from the First Men, with each valley having its own lord and a mistrust of outsiders. But they were nothing short of Targaryen loyalists who fought for Rhaegar and his ancestors in their various wars since Queen Visenya diplomatically brought them into the fold. I knew they'd fight for Daenerys. From what Connington remarked, they weren't skilled heavy infantry nor cavalry, but they were fearsome skirmishers. Geography affected how certain peoples fought so guerrillas were the way to go at Crackclaw Point. I didn't trust them to hold the line but, like Tyrion's mountain clansmen, that was not where their strength lay.
Crackclaw Point wasn't our destination, however. Ours was Maidenpool and House Mooton. After arguing where we should land for the greater part of a day, we concluded that was the best place to disembark. Despite being in the Riverlands, Maidenpool fought for House Targaryen during Robert's Rebellion and the territory had more in common with King's Landing than Riverrun. It was also a strategic port town that controlled the mouth of the Trident. It had been sacked but otherwise could be rebuilt. Then there was the factor of House Stark should we desire to make common cause against the Lannisters.
With Westeros on the horizon, I climbed down the steps where I was immediately welcomed with the muffled sounds of Vaquo vomiting in his quarters. I felt sorry for whoever was going to clean up after him. Vaquo didn't like the ocean, nor travel in general, and the rocking of the ship upset his sensitive stomach. I felt even sorrier for those sharing his cabin. Greeting the guardsman outside the queen's cabin with a polite smile, I entered the cramped space where I caught Daenerys sitting cross-legged on her bed with Arya before her. The queen was brushing our ward's short hair and, to my complete surprise, Viserion had his head resting on Arya's lap as she petted him.
Both girls smiled at me whist I could only stare. It was a cute scene and a totally unexpected one. Arya didn't really like having her hair touched and always refused Septa Lemore's requests to brush out the tangles. I would expect even more refusal given to Daenerys, but my wife did know what buttons to push and Viserion might have been what persuaded Arya to agree. I didn't have much time to linger on the sight before I let out a pained hiss and looked down at Azantys staring up at me and trying his best to climb my leg. Many animals, be they cats or lizards, loved being perched up high and dragons were no different. It was hard to refuse those eyes of his, so I picked up the dragon where Azantys jumped onto my shoulders, curled his slim body around my neck and became a bony neck heater. I did my best to ignore his claws cutting through my jerkin and into my skin, though. They would need to be cut. I'd no desire to be a scratching post like the door where the dragons had clawed splinters from the wood.
"He likes you," Arya giggled.
"Just as Viserion likes you. He loves people and girls especially." I winked at her and gave Azantys a rub on the nose where he closed his teeth around the meat of my hand and nipped hard.
"They've bitten me too," Daenerys said, showing me the tooth prints on her hand. She was smiling though, and said the words affectionately.
I chuckled somewhat at the further evidence our children were just overgrown cats with wings. Between all the dragons, it was Viserion who was the tamest while green and bronze Rhaegal was the most distrustful. Rhaegal who was now hiding under the bed, his snout poking out from the shadows. Rhaellon was laying at Daenerys' side and deep in slumber, his chin exposed so Daenerys could scratch him where he liked it most. "Do you plan to steal him for yourself and fly back to Winterfell?"
"I could if I wanted," Arya declared defiantly.
Surprisingly, Dany laughed and kissed the younger girl's head. "That's only if he lets you, sweetling. Few can steal a dragon for its dragons who decide who rides them. When I fly myself, I could let you ride with me like Queen Visenya showing the last Arryn king the skies above the Eyrie. Would you like that?" Arya, being Arya, eagerly accepted without a moment's hesitation. The two of them had bonded which I wasn't really surprised by. They both spent most their time on deck staring off into the distance or at the waves, enjoying the salty smell of the sea and the wind in their hair. "May I ask why you came here, husband?"
"I come bearing news of Westeros. We are about to pass through the Bay of Crabs and reach the Trident. You will not be cooped up here for much longer."
Both Irri and Jhiqui beamed where they were playing cards on the opposing bed, and Daenerys said, "That is wonderful news indeed, my love. Do you know when we disembark?"
"We should reach Maidenpool in a few hours. I would not worry about taking the castle. Though I am concerned whether the port will be large enough. I don't have high hopes in all honesty. Such a thing will create a bottleneck that'll slow our operations by a few days and prove costly. But I suppose while we are disembarking our supplies, we can send scouts out into the countryside and call local lords to declare their allegiance to you. So it won't be a complete waste."
Arya licked her lips. "Maidenpool's in the Riverlands, isn't it? Will Robb be there?"
"I wouldn't expect so," I answered her. "Reports say he's began launching raids into the Westerlands."
Daenerys was quick to promise Arya, "Your brother will know. Once he gets the raven I have no doubt he'll ride straight to you."
With an army most likely. I would rather not treat with Robb so much as his mother. The Lady Catelyn was desperate to regain her daughters and was like to be softer in her negotiations despite being a better diplomat than Robb under normal circumstances. I had hopes of getting Jaime Lannister off them and should we negotiate after news of Bran and Rickon, we might get a steal of a deal.
Arya gnawed at her lip, looking somewhat worried. "Are you going to fight him?"
There was no point being dishonest, so I answered, "Only if Lord Robb decides to act a fool and attacks us when he's already got Tywin Lannister to deal with. Neither of us have any desire to fight House Stark and would prefer your brother bend the knee and come to an arrangement without the unnecessary loss of life. Truth be told, your brother is the least of our concerns so long as King's Landing remains in the hands of the usurpers. Tell me honestly, Arya, do you think your brother will act the fool?"
Arya shot me her famous death glare. "My brother's no fool, stupid," but then something changed in her face. "Will you ransom me to him? That's what happens to knights. They're ransomed all the time. Sometimes women too." Then she hesitated. "What if he doesn't pay? I'm no famous knight, and kings are supposed to put the realm before their sisters."
Arya chewed her lip only for Daenerys to hug her from behind. "We love you with all our hearts," Dany teased playfully, "but I'm sure your brother loves you even more. If he didn't, he'd be a bad king and a worse brother. That doesn't sound like Robb from what you've hold me. Your stories instead tell me your brother will ride towards us as soon as he gets his raven, and nothing will stop him. Not even Lord Tywin."
If that's the case, I hope Lord Tywin plants himself in Robb's way so we have one less enemy to defeat. I actually quite liked Robb as a character and didn't have any desire to kill him. Especially if it avoided decapitating the North by putting it under the leadership of a boy few respected. Bran might work well for my plans under normal circumstances, but the North was what separated the Wall from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, and I had no desire for a weakened kingdom to be the recruiting ground for a zombie horde. House Stark would serve well as a bulwark, but that would only work if the North was under capable leadership which Robb was and Bran wasn't.
"That's Jon. But he's in the Night's Watch. He can't come south even if he wanted to. He swore an oath," Arya informed us, looking glum.
"With my great great-uncle," Daenerys said softly, staring off into space for a moment. "I'm sure Robb will do no differently, and your mother as well."
Arya bit her lip until Viserion nuzzled her hand and made her giggle. We spoke for a little more until Arya decided she'd rather not be cooped up in the cabin any longer and took her leave with the handmaidens. Taking the opportunity, I sat on the bed facing Daenerys and grinned. "You seem to have gotten close to our young ward." I couldn't blame her. Arya was likeable in her childish way and Dany loved children. She'll be a good mum someday . . .
"Ward or hostage? I do confess to finding myself growing fond of little Arya Stark." A flicker of a smile crossed her face. "She is sweet, and funny, and I can relate to what happened to her in King's Landing. It was like when I was younger, though I was never left to fend for myself. I always had Viserys and we could count on being granted homage in the estates of the wealthy. Such hospitality grew rarer as the years passed, but they still existed, so rarely did we need to sleep on the streets or cower from every passing watchman. I have no desire to see any child live in such a way."
"Even the child of one of the usurper's dogs?"
Daenerys didn't like that. "I want justice and what happened to her was not justice. I am not a monster who hurts little children, Aegon. All children are innocent no matter who their parents are."
"I know you won't. I know you'll never mean to harm a child. But I'm afraid some in our circle don't exactly follow the same standards as you do."
"Connington doesn't. He thinks Arya's a useful tool and little else. He said if the Northmen refuse to bend the knee, we should send Stark a piece of his sister until he agrees to our demands. 'What is the point of a hostage to hang over Stark's head if you refuse to kill her,' he said to me. But I cannot. Besides, if we kill Arya, what coin do we have to offer Robb Stark during negotiations? And we need to negotiate with the Northmen."
"Having hostages is not always the best currency," I admitted. "No matter what Jon says, you are no butcher queen." It was morally commendable but also dangerous. Jon was right in his ruthless way. If Daenerys refused to kill her hostages – and hostages were nearly always children – than what had she to threaten the lords with? But if we lost them, nothing would be holding those same lords back.
"I have no desire to be a butcher queen. I have no desire to be Maegor the Cruel come again. Westeros has enough blood of innocents spilled without me adding to it." Drawing her knees against her chest, Daenerys hugged her legs, looking all the more like an unsure little girl. "I know what you said about kings and queens, but I have no desire to add further graves."
"But you will."
"I will, but I'll find no joy in it. I can only hope some of those filling the graves will be the cruel and the wicked. Not suckling babes and the innocent. Don't look at me like that. I may be a young girl and unaware of the ways of the world—"
"I'm not sure about that. You're wiser than your years despite not having a maester to teach you. You know what it's like to be hungry, hunted and afraid. You have seen the smallfolk up close and have a kind heart as befits a queen to be. I know you say those words to play down your skills to order to get others to underestimate you. But that will not work on me. After all, you did steal the Golden Company from my grasp with your choice to invade. Well played I must say. I'll make sure not to be fooled next time. Though I must ask, do you regret it?"
Dany giggled softly as Viserion clambered onto her lap, nudging her hand for a stroke. Daenerys obliged him. "Do I regret deciding to invade? No. You saw the officers in the tent. They were going to invade with or without you. They hunger for Westeros and would go after it like a dog after a rabbit. One of us needed to take the initiative rather than letting Connington decide for us. It would look bad on us if he did."
She was right. We shouldn't be seen as weak especially when we needed the respect of the Golden Company and, in the future, the more martial lords. I was cautious but caution was regarded as weak. I could ill afford to be too cautious in the days ahead. Follow Young Griff's own example. A little rashness can't hurt provided you don't become a fool. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "I know a growing faction wanted war. I just wish you told me what you were going to do."
"So you could dissuade me? You would wait for the seven hells to melt before deciding to invade."
"I'm not that cautious. I'm no Strickland. I just wanna make certain we can win."
"We will win, Egg." Her face softened. "First we will take Maidenpool and get Lord Mooton to bend the knee which shouldn't be hard for Connington says he's a craven who'll sooner surrender than risk an assault on his walls. That's not mentioning him being the older brother to Ser Myles Mooton who squired for Rhaegar. Then we'll fight Lord Tywin and throw him down in his pride. I know you can do it. At some point, we should retake my home - my birthplace. I still wish we struck at Dragonstone on the way. It's our ancestral keep and where I was born. Where the Conqueror launched his invasion. Wouldn't you have wanted to see the Painted Table where Aegon the First planned his conquest?"
I sighed. "I told you why we can't. Stannis still has a sizeable fleet docked around the castle and we urgently need to land on the mainland. Our army's too large for the islands to supply and we all agreed to strike at Maidenpool." We had gotten into a few arguments about that. Me and the other military leaders didn't think Dragonstone was worth the manpower and time it would take to invest both island and castle. While he had sailed to Storm's End to deal with Renly, I'd no doubt Stannis had left a decently sized host under the command of a talented commander like Ser Rolland Storm. Despite having some propaganda value and being in a prime location for controlling Blackwater Bay, Dragonstone was not yet a primary objective to us.
Daenerys Targaryen wasn't happy with my response but conceded. "We have spoken much of our allies but what of this Robb Stark? Arya claims he is honourable, but what is Stark honour truly worth? What if he strike's our back when we're fighting Joffrey Baratheon?"
"Then we fight him and win. I may speak of common cause, but he is no less an enemy than Stannis and Renly and Joffrey. We need to choose our battles wisely and that means we can't fight everyone at once. If possible, we should come to some agreement with this King in the North. We have his sister so it's not like we hold nothing against him. We might even get our hands on Sansa. If so, our influence has doubled."
"I have no desire to be queen of only six kingdoms. The North should be brought back into the fold else the lords will think we're weak. What if we make our demands and Stark refuses his sister?"
"Then we have a claimant to the North. Marry one of the girls to a loyal lord, declare him Lord of Winterfell and bring it back under the authority of the Iron Throne. Send all the brothers to the Wall if you must. But only once the rest of the Seven Kingdoms are ours." I couldn't permit opening another front. I was not going launch Operation Barbarossa if I could help it.
Daenerys nodded along and I found myself sitting beside her where the young queen leaned her head against my shoulder. I wrapped an arm around her slim frame and drew her close where she let out a content sigh. We just sat there, enjoying each other's warmth and the dragons who began play fighting. As usual, it was Rhaellon who was winning.
"I do wander what will happen when they've grown, our children. They'll grow large enough to fly and take us with." Dany turned to me with a look of childish delight. "Can you imagine it, Egg? Us flying high in the sky, touching the clouds with our fingers and looking down at everything below?"
Uncontrolled domination of the skies. "I'm sure you've been dreaming of it. The parents of the future generation of dragons. Bringing them back from where they'd been extinct. Our family's legacy. Valyria's legacy." I didn't know what would happen to the dragons. I had no doubt me and Daenerys would be dragonriders, but that left two dragons unclaimed. There were those with dragonblood in Westeros like the Martells of Dorne, but we couldn't allow anyone with less than proven loyalty such an opportunity. House Targaryen could ill afford a repeat of the two betrayers or another Dance.
...
Maidenpool was a desolate town of empty streets and burnt homes. The pink walls were deserted, the gates had been smashed open and bloated corpses littered the streets. I shouldn't have expected anything differently. It was inevitable settlements like Maidenpool would be plundered. Port towns tended to be wealthy and Maidenpool was wealthier than most. So it was little wonder even their purported allies would carry out raids if the mood struck them, and it was known far and wide this town got raped and sacked several times by Stark and Lannister alike.
Despite House Mooton holding Targaryen sympathies, we weren't foolish and expected his lordship to welcome us with open arms. If anything, we expected the opposite. The first men to wade ashore were a vanguard of commandos trained for rapid landings, infiltration and all sorts of unconventional tactics. These men landed ahead of the main fleet on boats with muffled oars under the command of Harrando H'arla and were to disrupt local resistance in the countryside. These men were too low in number to take Maidenpool itself, but they numbered enough to strike against patrols on the road and raid villages to draw out whatever garrison remained behind the walls.
It turned out Mooton didn't have much of a garrison left. Those who survived the various sackings by hiding inside the castle dropped their spears when Connington landed on the beaches and occupied the town without resistance. Shortly later our flagship docked at the port occupied by cogs belonging to Illyrio's merchant fleet and auxiliary ships from the Three Daughters. Only once the town was fully secured would we be putting the heavy equipment, horses and elephants ashore. We couldn't afford to delay and those still sick from their voyage would only have a short time to recuperate before marching to plant the dragon banner on every keep within a couple days march.
Jumping onto the beach, I knelt down and scooped up some cold grey sand and clinched it into my hand. My first step onto Westeros. No doubt it cut quite a dramatic image, but the sand was cold and wet and uncomfortably clung to my hand, so I needed to rub it off on my gambeson which ruined the affect.
"Milord," approached a serjeant, saluting.
I'm a prince, not a milord. I could have reprimanded him for that, but I didn't care enough to bother. "Yes? What is it?"
"I've come to inform milord the captain-general has taken the castle and now his lordship is awaiting to declare his allegiance to Her Grace."
"Her Grace would love to hear that. Is the town under our control?"
"Indeed, milord."
"Good. Inform Legate Rivers and Grazgan I want their men to reinforce the walls and repair the gates as soon as possible should we face opposition. Also order whatever cohorts assembled into the countryside and get a lay of the land. If there are any Westerosi forces nearby I want to hear about them. Dalabhar, you will help organise. People work harder whenever you're nearby."
I didn't know when, but I was certain Tywin Lannister would ride against us. Maybe even with the Tyrells in tow. The least we could do was fortify our position before that happened to ensure we had somewhere to fall back to. We had to keep a route open should we need to flee Westeros. If that happens, the Seven Kingdoms were a lost cause and I would need to rebuild my strength in Essos. I'll declare myself Emperor in Pentos and reforge the old Valyrian Empire. I had various backups in place should I face defeat here.
The castle of Maidenpool was a stout stone keep planted atop a lofty crag jutting out into the Bay of Crabs. The castle was surrounded by steep cliffs on three sides, and the only entrance was a narrow ridge that was exposed to defenders on the walls. Walls that were now displaying both Targaryen and Blackfyre dragon banners alongside House Mooton's red salmon on a white field bordered with a gold tressure. Maidenpool was the first town to submit to Targaryen hegemony but won't be the last.
One down, only several thousand more to go.
Although Maidenpool had been sacked until nothing was left, the castle hadn't been touched. The keep was elaborately furnished with plush Myrish carpets and frilly pillows on handsomely carved benches. Filling the halls were sellswords inspecting everything with greedy eyes and no doubt some of the smaller furnishings will go missing once we took our leave. It was in the great hall where I met Lord Mooton. His lordship was a pale, soft, fleshy man in a white doublet and red breeches, his ermine cloak pinned at the shoulder by a red-gold brooch shaped like a salmon. He stood beside his lord's throne, intimidated by the tougher forms of Griff and Blackheart.
"Prince Aegon," Jon Connington called. "This here is Lord William Mooton. He's surrendered the castle and all his lands. Now he needs to bend the knee to Her Grace and swear allegiance."
"No doubt she would love to hear that. Her Grace loves castles almost as much as she does friends."
"Y-you're a Blackfyre?" the meek lord croaked at me.
I nodded and said, "That I am." It was obvious with my Valyrian colouring and the black three-headed-dragon on full arrogant display on my padded jack. Black and red were my favourite colour scheme, truth be told. I once more rattled off that House Blackfyre hadn't died out and now lived with me for the hundredth time and surely not the last. "Queen Daenerys Targaryen will desire residence in your keep. She fancies ships, though I do believe a castle would prove much safer."
"Indeed, my prince," the man rushed out. "Her Grace would be more than welcome to a room in my humble keep. Seldom has these halls been graced to host royalty of late, and Queen Daenerys will be treated as a queen should and be given my own chambers. My own brother squired for Prince Rhaegar and died for him at Stony Sept. You would be hard pressed to find a more devoted servant to House Targaryen."
Connington didn't seem to like the sound of that, and William would face stiff competition from Darry. But I smiled mildly and assured him his sacrifices would not be forgotten. "Relax and stand at ease, my lord. Her Grace is generous, and your lordship will be treated with all due courtesy." Then my voice grew serious but not unkind, "Mind if I ask you what happened to Maidenpool? Who sacked it?"
"Many marauders have attacked my lordship since the war started, my prince. Petty lords jealous of Maidenpool's wealth, houses from the Crownlands, as well as lions. When my liege lord sent ravens ordering I send men, I sent my knights and household guard to reinforce Ser Edmure Tully at the Golden Tooth. It proved a foolish decision that left me exposed to brigands. I hadn't enough men to protect my holdings and was attacked by raiders from nearby Rook's Rest and the Antlers. My smallfolk hadn't time to clear the bodies and rebuild the gates before Lord Bolton and his host attacked Maidenpool carrying the Stark banner. I was forced to watch from these walls as they burnt down what remained of the town and foraged the countryside; killing everything and destroying what they didn't steal."
I nodded apologetically. "Should or when you bend the knee to Queen Daenerys, the legion will repair Maidenpool's defences free of charge. Then we'll send riders to patrol the roads and enforce the queen's peace."
"I-I thank you, my prince," Lord William bowed his head, licking his fat lips nervously.
"After all that's happened, I know House Mooton isn't in much a position to provide, but there are still a few things we desire of you and should you be willing to bestow, well, it would prove you're a loyal servant of Her Grace and worthy of the queen's love."
"Y-yes . . . of course. Mind I ask what they are?"
Jon Connington glanced at me with a tiny smirk and said, "We can talk of this matter over your finest wine."
When Daenerys finally decided to make her way to the keep, legionaries were carrying fresh timber through the streets and craftsmen were busy repairing the gates. Rubble was being cleared and dead bodies carted outside to be blessed by septons before being thrown into ditches and burnt. There were many corpses and the surviving inhabitants cowered in their homes, terrified of the foreign army. The queen sat in the lord's seat, petite against the impressive artistry. As it was her first time in Westeros and before her first proper lord, Daenerys Targaryen had dressed for the occasion. Dany's gown was lavender samite with ornate Myrish lace and mother-of-pearl, and resting atop her head was Queen Rhaella's crown. With the dragons around her she looked like a true Targaryen queen.
"With Maidenpool under our authority, the Second and Third legions have set off to capture the surrounding keeps. The First is busy helping to bring our supplies off the ships and repairing the town. The Fourth, meanwhile, is foraging the countryside," Dalabhar informed everyone in the Great Hall, his naturally loud voice allowing it to be heard by all. "The Fifth is still assembling. There was trouble when one of the great cogs run aground."
"No doubt the men would rather be dicing and drinking," Myles remarked. "But these are not normal men. We are the heirs of Bittersteel and discipline is a mother's milk to us. The area outside Maidenpool will be ours, Your Grace, and soon all of Westeros."
"By this time tomorrow we should hold three castles," grinned Lysono Maar slyly. "I have already sent out my spies and hopefully we can contact the Spider and expand our network. Our web here is not so great as the one we left in Essos."
"Let us hope," Daenerys Targaryen said. "No doubt many have reported a vast fleet moving north and down the Bay of Crabs. They'll know we are here so there's no point in hiding. I want ravens sent across the realm. Let every castle hear House Targaryen has arrived and will retake its rightful throne."
"They will indeed, Your Grace," Connington answered. "I have placed Haldon in the maester's tower and the previous maester in the dungeons after he attempted to send ravens west to Riverrun. Black Balaq filled them with arrows so none made it. It was fortunate the maester didn't send them all off, and with the Halfmaester's help we've began sending letters to the surrounding lords most likely to join our banner: House Boggs, Brune of Vrownhollow and Dyre Den, Cave and Crabb, Hardy and finally House Pyne. The messages written in advance by the printing press has saved us time."
"Those houses you mentioned, are they are all of Crackclaw Point?"
"Aye, and with fresh forces," Myles added. "They are loyal dragon men and can be used to expand our forces. Hopefully the size of our host can sway some the Riverlords now the Young Wolf's far to the west and the nearest army is Tywin Lannister at Harrenhal. The Lord of Casterly Rock was in a perilous position even before we got here. Now, Aegon, you will assemble your legion and go east to meet with these lords of Crackclaw Point."
"Me? Why?"
"Because I want to see if you're capable of doing things on your own, and you can start by putting that tongue of yours to good use outside of sticking it down your wife's throat. I heard the lords of Crackclaw Point are a very proud people, and notoriously stubborn. People who're distrustful of outsiders by nature. I want to see if you're capable of the challenge, and do not return until they bend the knee and swear their swords to our cause."
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder