บท 183: Lands no longer in dispute
In case anyone is interested, I decided to write a story to distract me from the research I do for some chapters of this fanfic, it's called Industrial Baron in Caesar's Legion, it's more violent because there is no need to keep up appearances.
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The relentless sound of the mechanisms of the Prussian trebuchets and the constant thudding of the massive stones hurled against the walls of Myr had not ceased for a single moment during the long four months that the Prussians had kept the city under siege.
The entire enormous army that Tyrosh had gathered was camped outside its walls, as the fall of Lys meant nothing would stop Tyrosh from ending the war over the disputed lands.
Thousands of former citizens of Lys had joined the banner of the Prussian conqueror. The conquest of Lys had taken a long time, with a prolonged naval siege, but in the end, the city had fallen under Prussian boots. They tore down its walls and harshly punished the ruling class for refusing to surrender, hanging them with chains by their hands, with heavy blocks tied to their feet on the coast of Lys, where the slow rise of the sea would take care of them.
With no ruling class left in Lys, the Prussian nobility took their place, destroying the city's economy, which had thrived on vice. They closed the numerous pleasure houses, brothels, and establishments dedicated to prostitution, transforming the once wealthy city into one governed by strict Prussian discipline.
The survivors of the siege joined Tyrosh's banners since the siege had severed their trade ties, and unemployment was rampant. Meanwhile, Tyrosh had ample grain reserves to feed its army.
Lys, like Tyrosh, had been transformed into a city producing all manner of war supplies, abandoning its artisanal industries to feed the ever-growing Tyroshi army. This army was filled with hardened veterans, warriors who had fought in every great victory of the Perpetual Dictator. They had faced enemies from the Free Cities and had even repelled a large Dothraki khalasar, driving them from the farmlands of Myr back to the Dothraki Sea.
To the inhabitants of these lands, the Prussian dictator, though a foreigner and a stranger to their customs, had become a symbol of strength, protecting the region. He symbolized unity, for no one wished to be the next to be crushed for rebelling against his rule, but above all, he represented hope – the hope that the long conflict would finally end and that the three Free Cities, after so much strife, would be united under one banner, protected from the Dothraki, and set to prosper.
Only one obstacle remained: the city of Myr.
Myr had fought tooth and nail against everything the Prussians had thrown at it. Its walls were nearly reduced to rubble, with only a few parts still standing, resisting the relentless Prussian siege techniques. The city's great port had been completely burned down after the Prussians sent three galleys filled with Greek fire into the harbor just before the siege began, resulting in a massive blaze that destroyed much of the port and surrounding buildings.
Although the Prussians had detected the location of the city's granaries, they had refrained from bombing them, as they wished to avoid a massacre and preserve the population for future use. As a result, much of the city remained intact.
However, despite Tyrosh's repeated attempts to get Myr to surrender, the magisters preferred to die rather than flee with their lives or risk being caught in a trap and executed like the magisters of Lys, who had met their end at the hands of the Prussians.
"How much longer are we going to wait for those idiots to realize their situation isn't going to improve? We defeated a large Dothraki khalasar, we control the hills and mountains to stop any future horse lord incursions, and the Free Cities aren't sending them any more help. We have the city completely blockaded by land and sea. We should just charge at them now, while their walls are already collapsing under all the punishment we've subjected them to," said Lothar to his companion, who was still studying maps.
"Myr has a very valuable industry that I'd like to keep intact. The fire already destroyed a lot, and I don't want an all-out assault causing further damage. Many of our soldiers still think of war in the traditional way, where killing and pillaging everything in sight is the norm. I'd prefer they surrender so we can start recovery as soon as possible because once everything returns to normal, the war economy we've built will collapse," Antti replied, his eyes never leaving the plans of the city of Myr.
"And it will collapse quickly, once many return to their artisanal crafts, the people return to the fields to start planting, and we demobilize thousands of our veterans since we can't afford to keep so many active for long. We'll need a small force to garrison the cities and defend against the Dothraki, and we should focus all our income on rebuilding and attracting immigrants from Essos to get the economy running again as soon as possible, and start freeing the slaves as Braavos requested," Antti added.
"Let's hope this ends soon, and we can see if they have any Valyrian steel for our reserves. Lys hardly had any of the metal. It felt like a waste to invest so many men and ships to conquer that damned city only to find nothing more of the Valyrians than their disgusting silver hair and violet eyes, which made me sick just to look at," Lothar added.
"He was a pleasure colony for the dragonlords, we didn't expect much. Valyrian steel was a war element for the Valyrians, so it makes sense not everyone had access to it. They probably did what we do, preventing the steel from being sold to all, ensuring their armies were the only ones equipped with the best steel available. So, it's likely Myr doesn't have much, maybe none at all," replied Antti.
"We're still missing a lot then… and without wars, how many years will it take us to get what we lack? The king could need the steel soon, and we would still be years, even decades, away from gathering all the necessary steel," said Lothar, clearly frustrated.
"There weren't that many Valyrian wars in the area. Maybe in the city of Volantis…" Antti was interrupted when a Finn entered, bringing some news that Antti quickly read.
"What does it say?" asked Lothar, leaning on his fist.
"Well… nothing significant for the moment. The king has gone to war against the Seven Kingdoms due to religious conflicts with the Faith of the Seven," Antti said calmly.
"WHAT?!" Lothar shouted, standing up and smashing the chair and everything around him.
"There's no need to get upset, Lothar. This is just information on what's happening," Antti replied.
"How can I not be upset?! Our king is in danger! We must help him immediately. Give the order to lift the siege and have everyone board the ships at once. We sail to King's Landing to burn that city!" Lothar roared, his face full of fury.
"We're not going to do that, Lothar. We're about to finish the siege. The king hasn't asked for our help. Do you think he will welcome us with open arms after we abandon the East? Remember, much of the king's income comes from us buying large quantities of materials from him. Do you think the king will be happy when, out of the blue, he loses such an important revenue stream just to gain an army to strike the Seven Kingdoms from the east? No, he won't," Antti responded coolly.
"So calm down, think, and reason. You're in exile, Lothar. If you go, and the king doesn't need you, you won't just be exiled again—you will lose the East. The essosi will never allow us to retake what we abandoned. They won't make the same mistake of underestimating us again, and all we've fought for will be lost. The king won't be happy either," Antti continued, his tone cold and calm in the face of Lothar's rage.
"What you're saying could be considered treason," Lothar said, pointing at the Finn.
"Treason? If I haven't received any orders to do otherwise, Lothar, going west means losing everything. Are you implying the king will lose just because you're not there?" Antti retorted.
"I didn't say that, Antti. It's just that…" Lothar tried to respond.
"Just that what, Lothar? The king has never lost a battle, unlike others. The Westerosi don't have a structured command like ours. They're driven by noble feuds; they're disunited. Without The Reach's grain, there will be famine, and very likely, murders are already rampant. We have sleeper cells across Dorne and the Crownlands," said Antti.
"Antti… there's a religious war. I warned you this would happen if we tried to coexist with those dogs," Lothar growled.
"Oh, and does that make the king's exile invalid? Are you questioning the righteous punishment for which you were exiled, Lothar? Do you think you're superior to the king?" the Finn pressed.
"Don't put words in my mouth, you bastard," Lothar snarled through gritted teeth.
There was a brief silence.
"Fine… I will take a ship and present myself to the king, bringing my tributes to him," Lothar finally said.
"This will end badly… They're going to punish you severely, Lothar," Antti said before being cut off.
"I don't give a damn, Antti! I'm not going to sit here while the king faces all the Seven Kingdoms," Lothar roared.
Antti sighed, nearly stifling a growl.
"Put on your armor. We're going to assault the city immediately. These cursed cities are united by the fear they have of you. What the hell do you think will happen when you disappear? Those treacherous scum will start scheming and trying to retake power. So if you're leaving, you'd better have Myr under control for when you return, likely in chains, after visiting our king," Antti said, pointing at Lothar's armor.
"Fine… this damn siege ends today," Lothar said, starting to layer on his armor.
Soon after, the order was given. The great army of Tyrosh began forming, preparing to charge directly into the many breaches in the city. At the same time, the defenders readied themselves to resist the onslaught.
With the sound of multiple trumpets, all of Tyrosh's forces advanced swiftly toward the city's breaches.
Myr's defenses held as best they could, but in one area, they collapsed almost immediately, allowing the attackers to spread throughout the streets.
The sounds of battle echoed everywhere, along with the screams of despair from the population, caught between the two sides.
Several dozen city guards rushed to reinforce the fallen defenses, only to find three men clad in blood-covered Valyrian steel armor, surrounded by dozens of corpses—arms, legs, and entrails strewn about.
The guards scattered across the street to confront their enemies, but their eyes locked onto the group of warriors, and the warriors charged at the guards.
Myr fell within the hour, leaving thousands of bodies in the streets of the wealthy city, and the entire ruling class was crucified on the few intact walls of the city.
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Give me your power stones
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