บท 43: Chapter 42: Quarrel
"Since… the Hand has already left King's Landing, there's no need to trouble him with this matter."
The slightly rotund king choked a bit but quickly shook his head and continued speaking.
He turned his gaze to Maester Pycelle, who sat on the ground, groaning and dawdling. The king's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Stop your pretense!"
"Get up at once!"
Though Robert Baratheon had only sat on the Iron Throne for half a year after removing his armor, his figure had ballooned rapidly as if inflated.
However, the quickly accumulated fat could not erase his once-mighty muscles; it merely hid them temporarily beneath the layer of fat.
In fact, the rotund King Robert seemed even more imposing than when he had been on the battlefield, and a single glare from his copper-bell-like eyes was enough to make the posturing Maester Pycelle shudder before quickly getting up from the ground.
"Your Grace."
"Send a raven immediately, summoning all my bannermen. I shall personally attack Dragonstone!"
King Robert roared, unable to tolerate the continued existence of the Targaryens in the world. He had thought that once the royal fleet was built and sailed across Blackwater Bay, taking Dragonstone would be a piece of cake.
After all, the newly built royal fleet had consumed a seemingly bottomless pit of gold dragons. To consolidate his dominion over the seas, Robert Baratheon had envisioned a fleet larger than any on the continent of Westeros.
Its combined strength had even surpassed the formerly most powerful Iron Fleet.
The Baratheon-built fleet was far superior in scale, tonnage, and number of soldiers to the fleet of Dragonstone. Moreover, many of the Targaryen warships stationed at Dragonstone were already old and decrepit.
In naval combat, tactics and soldier quality were secondary; the most crucial factor was the strength of the warships. With a ship large and sturdy enough, they would be unstoppable, relying on sheer power.
So when such an enormous, powerful fleet encountered an old, toothless one, the outcome was clear.
But Stannis had sent the royal fleet to its doom in the sea. In his fury, Robert also felt a profound sense of threat.
For some reason.
After sitting on the Iron Throne for only half a year, Robert had changed significantly from the fearless Lord of Storm's End.
Not only in body shape.
Now, Robert roared in anger, demanding that all the nobles loyal to him send troops to attack Dragonstone.
Upon hearing King Robert's words, the white-haired, white-bearded Maester Pycelle stood dumbfounded in place.
Although everyone in the Red Keep knew that the king was bold and unrestrained—if not impulsive and reckless—Pycelle had not expected King Robert to be so mad.
Dragonstone was a small island with a harsh environment, sparse population, and at most, a tiny fishing village.
Was such a small island worth King Robert's time and resources to rally all his bannermen to attack?
"Your Grace…"
Maester Pycelle was somewhat flustered, his lips trembling as he tried to say something.
At that moment.
The silent Lord Commander of the Kingsguard suddenly spoke.
"Your Grace."
Ser Barristan Selmy rested one hand on the hilt of his sword, the pure white cloak draped on the ground behind him. He looked at the king's eyes with furrowed brows.
"On Dragonstone, there are only a widow and her orphaned children."
"They pose no threat to your position."
By now, Westeros was nearly entirely under Robert's control, from the Wall to the southernmost tip.
"They pose no threat to your position."
By now, Westeros was nearly entirely under Robert's control, from the Wall to the southernmost tip. With Hand Jon Arryn working to appease Dorne, the Seven Kingdoms would soon be united.
On Dragonstone, the widows and orphans had no one to rely on and no resources, only a ragtag fleet that posed no threat to Westeros.
"There is no need to mobilize against a helpless child and woman, Your Grace. It would tarnish your honor."
Although he now served House Baratheon, Ser Barristan had never told anyone that he had sworn to himself that if he saw King Robert smile when Tywin Lannister presented Rhaegar's children's corpses, he would never be loyal to Robert.
Furthermore, nothing in the world could stop him from killing Robert.
Not harming women and children was the honor and bottom line that Ser Barristan Selmy adhered to as a knight.
However, Ser Barristan's words seemed to ignite a powder keg, instantly enraging King Robert.
"Let me make myself clear!" he roared. "Ser Barristan Selmy, I want them dead! Mother and child, both! I don't want any dragonspawn left in this world!"
Angry King Robert was like a furious brown bear, bristling and spitting saliva as he glared at Ser Barristan, hoping to intimidate him with his presence.
But the white-cloaked knight did not waver under the king's pressure, continuing to meet his gaze.
Maester Pycelle was terrified by the situation and quickly tried to intervene.
"Your Grace, the Seven Kingdoms are at your feet. You can easily muster countless knights, but their horses cannot swim across the sea."
The white-haired Maester sided with the Kingsguard commander, not because he believed it was dishonorable to harm women and children, but because he thought King Robert was overreacting.
An important issue they had been discussing was the Baratheon dynasty's lack of a fleet. Thus, they had invested heavily in building one.
With the recent destruction of the newly built royal fleet, the Baratheons had temporarily lost their maritime ambitions.
Maester Pycelle spoke with a trembling voice.
"Lord Redwyne's fleet has been damaged and has returned to the Arbor to regroup."
"As for the Iron Fleet..."
"You seem to have forgotten, Your Grace, that Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands has yet to come to King's Landing and swear fealty."
Maester Pycelle cautiously observed King Robert's expression, using tactful language to avoid provoking him further.
He informed the king of the current situation: there was no battle-ready fleet at King Robert's disposal, and the sea was where the Targaryen remnants could roam freely.
...
The next day, news of the royal fleet's destruction in the harbor had spread throughout King's Landing.
It sent shockwaves through the city, with rumors of a Targaryen resurgence spreading like wildfire.
Meanwhile, far away, Viserys and the victorious Dragonstone fleet had already set out on their journey home.
The ships cut through the waves, heading towards the distant horizon.
.
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