Chương 95: Chapter 114: Act 2: Chapter 50
Twelfth day, Ninth Moon, 260 AC (+2 days)
Ryden POV
Lord Ormund Baratheon was a loud man. I had never been a believer that someone's ancestry predetermined them to a specific trait, but it was hard to hold that belief in front of Ormund and his son, Steffan. Perhaps, it was a nature versus nurture thing, as Dad had explained years ago. But whereas Steffan was loud and boisterous, Ormund had all that and more. He was a charismatic man, someone who could put everyone at ease. He maintained a refined, noble-born, persona yet he could appeal to anyone because you could tell he could easily sit there and slam back mug after mug of ale.
Not that what he was doing was all that different. He was supposed to be holding court, which meant that dispensing justice and maintaining order was the business of the day. Father's court, if you could call it that, was a straightforward affair that kept its goal in mind and kept it simple. Lord Baratheon had a verydifferent philosophy. His court reflected his personality, so it was loud.
Loud and entertaining. There was plenty of wine and beer, and the atmosphere looked more like a party than a way to dispense justice. But it seemed I was alone in my disapproval. All of the Westerosi were still in a good mood from their victory, and the only people who were complaining were usually on the receiving end of Lord Baratheon's judgements – and that more had to do with the judgements themselves, rather than how they were delivered.
My men were still in the city, helping to guard the walls, which meant I was able to attend court today. Most of the army had already been dispersed over the rest of the island to capture the larger towns and demand the capitulation of the rest of the island – preferably without marching an army there.
I was standing to the side of the hall with Auric, as we both watched the proceedings.
"You can't just free the slaves!" said the man angrily, almost bordering on shouting. "It is unjust! They are our property!"
I laughed at the notion. The Tyroshi man was a resident of the city, and judging by his clothing, a rich one. Or, at least, he had been rich.
Prince Aerys snorted. "We took everything else, why not this, too?"
The man's face reddened. "You did not take the slaves; you freed them! It is a waste! How will the city do business? It will take us decades to recover! We have not given you such an insult to justify this! You go beyond the rules of war!" In a slightly calmer voice, he continued, "Do not think we do not know of your deal with Lys! You cannot claim land in Essos! Your rules will not hold once you leave, so what you do is unjust!"
Lord Baratheon's booming laugh cut the man off. "And so, we have claimed no land! Just as our agreement with Lys demands. So, take care not to insult our honor!" He snorted. "And as for your property," he said, sneering the word. "We have taken what we pleased, as have all victors done since time immemorial, and we have done with it as we pleased. I do not see you complaining about how we use your gold."
"Men will always complain about gold, but gold does not come back to kill you!" the man retorted. "Killings have been on the rise since your decree! Good families have been slain by vile cowards – cowards that you freed."
Prince Aerys laughed nastily. "Revenge killings you mean."
The man looked if he wanted to spit, but the guards who stood on either side of him convinced him otherwise. "They are naught but cowards, attacking women and children in the night."
Lord Baratheon raised an eyebrow. "So, it is an honorable fight you seek? I imagine you do not see the irony of a slaver demanding honorable combat, but still, let it not be said I am without mercy!" He stood, towering over the table filled with food and drink. "Let us fight then! Let us fight to the death, you and I! If you win, my son will ensure that you will get back your slaves! And if I win, I never have to see you or hear your voice again! A win for everyone!"
The man paled.
Steffan laughed. "Father, it appears that he isn't looking for honorable combat after all."
"I thought that might be the case." Lord Baratheon sneered at the man. "Too weak to even fight for your own honor, let alone for other men. I doubt you even had the strength to enslave men yourself. Like as not, you had someone else do it for you." He waved his arm about the room, indicating to all who stood watching. "Now, all can see the only coward here is you. Guards! Take this trash out of my hall!"
The guards grabbed the arms of the man and started to drag him out, to quickly for him to react, so he ended up being dragged out.
Once the man was gone, and only Westerosi remained, Rickard moved forward and cleared his throat. "Lord Baratheon, if I may? Bodies have been found in increasing numbers over the past few nights, though no obvious violence has broken out during the day."
Lord Baratheon frowned. "Has it been the ex-slaves doing it?"
Rickard shrugged. "It's possible, some of the bodies have been identified as citizens."
"And none of it has occurred in the day? I don't see that we can do much about it, so long as our rule is maintained."
"We could create a curfew, Lord Baratheon. Ban anyone but us from being out at night, and if our patrols find anyone, they can just assume those breaking the curfew were causing trouble."
Lord Baratheon nodded. "See it done. Maester! Has the count of the loot been completed yet?"
"Yes, my lord." He unrolled a large piece of parchment and began to read out, "100 pounds of gold, 1,200 pounds of silver, 100 bolts of silk, 5,000 pounds of various dyes, including 200 of Tyrian purple, and 2,000 pounds of various spices. Additionally, 5,000 pounds of steel, in the form of weapons and armor has been collected, as well as various other pieces of art, like marble statues."
The entire hall, myself included, cheered. I turned to Auric in surprise, and said, "A large haul!"
"Larger than I thought it would be! This place is about the same size as White Harbor, yet it yielded so much more than White Harbor ever could!"
As the cheering died down, Lord Baratheon said, "Have the spoils given out in the proper amounts, and keep the spoils for those who are not in the city, safe."
"It will be done, my lord."
"And what of our food situation?"
"The storage sites in the city were full, my lord, and with so many dead inhabitants, and the losses we took ourselves, our food situation is secure. Additionally, the ex-slaves have already taken up new trades, like fishing, so fresh food is starting to flow back into the city."
"Did they take the boats from their former masters?"
"I do not know for certain, my lord, but I would imagine so."
Lord Baratheon sighed. "Rickard, send a man to find out, but as long as it is not too bad, do nothing."
Rickard nodded. "I will let you know what my man finds."
"Maester! What is the final number of men that died in the assault?"
"Of ours? Before the fight, we numbered around 33,000 men, my lord. During the Battle of Sella Ora, we lost roughly 1,500 men, with another 1,000 dying of their wounds over the past few days. Another 3,000 live but are crippled."
Lord Baratheon drummed his fingers on the table. "Almost 1 in 5 men are gone? All during the battle?"
The maester shook his head. "Not all, my lord. A good number of men died in the days leading up to the battle from sickness. Unfortunately, I do not have an accurate record of how every man died – I can merely compare the numbers before and after."
"And does that number include the men that died in the skirmishes and fights on Little Tyrosh, other than the Battle of Sella Ora?"
"It does not, my lord. There were roughly 2,000 casualties before the Battle, my lord."
"So, we have 27,500 men still?"
"Yes, as of my last count, my lord. But I do not know how they have fared around the island since that time."
"We took more losses than anticipated; these slavers were a tough foe. We crushed them, for we are mightier, but they were a tough foe. Maester, send word to the Braavosi and the Lyseni, they must send men with us when it comes time to siege Tyrosh itself. It is time they do some of the work!"
The maester nodded. "I will write the letter personally, my lord."
"Will we continue to hold the island while we siege Tyrosh, Lord Baratheon?" asked Rickard.
"We could hold the whole island, but it would be foolhardy to do so when we have stronger opponents still to face. We will continue to hold Sella Ora, but nothing else directly. I will order a large number of cavalry to remain here as well, to crush any rebellions, without mercy. So long as Sella Ora remains in our hands, the rest of the island will fall in line, or else we shall truly ruin the island for decades to come."
Lord Baratheon stood, shooting back the last of his beer, and said, "Steffan! Tywin! Aerys! To the training yard! Enough of this for now!"
I turned to Auric, who looked at the retreating backs of the four men. "What I wouldn't give to get an invitation to join them! Think of the connections!"
I snorted. "I think I will stay as far away from the Prince as I can."
Auric grimaced. "True, but the heirs of the Westerlands and Stormlands are powerful allies to have."
I shrugged. "Go grab a few of your men and train near them. Attract their attention with your skill," I said dryly.
He frowned. "Now, it feels like you are mocking me."
I laughed. "Just a bit – doesn't mean it isn't a good idea, though.
"True, true! You can join me!"
"Some of us have work to do," I said.
Auric laughed. "Tomorrow! I have until tomorrow before I have to set out on patrol! Until then, I am free!"
I laughed as he left the hall, grabbing some of his men on his way.
Speaking of work, it was time to leave, for there was always more to be done.
Xxxx
Arthur POV
A knock at the door interrupted my reading.
"Ser," said Marwyn. "I've brought the last man to you, as you've asked."
"Bring him in," I replied.
Marwyn entered, followed by the man who I had first noticed days ago, wrapped completely in cloth. He was the last ex-slave to be interviewed.
"Thank you, Marwyn," I said, dismissing him. "Sit," I said, in Valyrian, to the remaining man. "What is your name?"
"Vamyx, Master."
"You can take off the wrappings around your face; I find it difficult to have an honest conversation with someone who hides their face."
The man, Vamyx, hesitantly unwrapped his face while I watched with fascination. I had already interviewed the other ex-slaves and collected and checked the information they provided, so I knew what would happen when he uncovered himself. But seeing and hearing about something are two very different things.
My eyes roamed over his face for a second, before I forced my eyes to meet his, briefly, before he lowered them. "What is the condition called?"
"It is called albinism, Master."
He was incredibly pale, more so than a man in the North after a long, cold winter. His hair was pale as well, and not in a way that some call blonde. "And why do you cover yourself?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"The sun burns my skin very quickly, Master."
"How did you come to be a slave? And how did you remain one with your condition?"
Vamyx shook his head. "I have been a slave all my life, Master, as were my parents before me. I remain alive, Master, because I know my letters and numbers. I have been bought and sold to help manage estates such as this one."
"Where are your parents?"
"I do not know, Master. I was separated from them and sold to another master many years ago."
"How long have you been with this estate?"
"Eight years, Master."
What he said confirmed what the others had already disclosed. This estate was lenient towards its slaves – relatively speaking. Slavery was still slavery, no matter how it was enforced, but it was, on the face of it, less horrific here than elsewhere. Since the owners were so rarely here, they left it mostly to the guard captain, who had denied us entry, to run. He had been a man that was more concerned with money over other vices, as the more money the estate made, the more he could pocket himself. So, the whippings were more for punishment and 'order', rather than cruelty.
Which explained why Vamyx was still alive. He was useful to the estate and to Daegar, the guard captain, so he was kept, and his condition accommodated – to an extent. "I assume that your condition was used as another set of shackles?" I asked softly.
Vamyx didn't respond, but I could see the fire in his eyes.
"Yes, I can see that they would use it like that. Perhaps force you to work in the fields for a day, uncovered?"
Vamyx still didn't respond, and other than his eyes, he gave away little emotion.
"Did you enjoy your work? Working with the accounts?"
"I did as I was ordered, Master."
"I don't doubt that, but everyone tries to find some satisfaction in life. It might be from doing something to spite your masters, or in finding it from doing a job well done."
"Perhaps then, from a job well done, Master. No one can take my skill from me," he said, saying the last bit almost defiantly.
I nodded. "I can understand that. From what I have read, you seem to be skilled. So, tell me, what do you know of the trade caravan that will be coming by in a few weeks?"
"Caravan? Do you mean the army shipment? It is this region's contribution, as mandated by Tyrosh's Council, and will be sent to the frontlines. It represents a significant portion of the latest harvest."
"So, it comes only from this region?"
"No, Master. Some is being brought here from provinces more inland, as the town, Ōzqelbar, Dawn's River, is the farthest navigable point along the river."
"Hmm, and the number of guards?"
Vamyx opened his mouth but hesitated. "Master? What is our status? Truly? Do I have to answer?"
I smiled. "Did you not see what we did to your previous masters?"
"Men kill each other all the time, Master, but that doesn't change much for the life of a slave. We were also locked up afterward, which is little different than normal."
"True, but have you been whipped or otherwise punished?"
"No, but is that the bar you want to set, Master?"
I laughed. "You're smart. And correct – it's not. You are free, just temporarily detained. There is no sense in letting word get out about where we are."
"Then what will become of us?"
"It depends; what would you like?"
"For now? Coin for answers."
"Very well, coin for answers. What will the guards be like? How many of them?"
"Normally, wagons in that sort of convoy will have thee guards per wagon, along with one wagon driver, and maybe a slave or two. There will be seventy wagons in total, which will join the rest of the supplies already in town that have arrived over the past few weeks. But I don't know if this wagon will have the traditional numbers, as I am no military man, just a bookkeeper."
I scratched my chin. Likely between 200 and 300 men, maybe more, as they probably wouldn't have fewer men in times of war. "And the town? How many men will be guarding there?"
"The town typically has fifty men guarding it, but recently they increased it to 75."
"Hmm, and where are the warehouses located?"
"Where the goods are stored? The buildings are close to the docks, and only some are behind the town wall."
I raised an eyebrow. "Only some?"
Vamyx nodded. "Only some," he confirmed. "The town hasn't been attacked in over a century, and even that was a traditional attack by Lys, so there was never any danger of a sacking. The army just waited the required number of days for the town to surrender, but reinforcements from Tyrosh arrived before that happened. And the only other threat, the Dothraki, rarely come this far west."
I was about to ask another question, but Vamyx continued, "Now, what about my coin?"
I laughed. "Would you truly like coin, or something more? Perhaps, a portion of loot?"
Vamyx looked thoughtful, as he worried his strange pale lips. "Is that an offer to join you?"
"Yes."
"And join what exactly? You seem… different from normal bandits, and I can tell you are from Westeros."
"We fight for King Aegon the Fifth, King of the Andals, the Ryoynar, and the First Men. Our goal is to establish a country in this area – one free of slavery."
"A country sworn to King Aegon?"
"No," I refuted. "A free country, in every sense of the word. But one that is closely allied with the Seven Kingdoms. After all, non-slavers need to stick together."
Vamyx stared off into the distance. "No slaves?"
"None. Just people living their lives best as they can."
"What about the other slaves that are here? Are they joining?"
"No, they are not. They will be free to go once we leave."
Vamyx glanced at me sharply. "To spread the word about what you are doing?"
I grinned. "Like I said before, you are smart!"
"I've never ridden a horse before," said Vamyx nervously.
I laughed as I stuck my hand out to seal the deal. "We'll get you a mule to start!"
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