Chương 75: Stannis 7
293AC
The Lord of Dragonstone walked the castle's halls with his eyes closed.
It wasn't quite a prayer, he believed in no God, but still, he hoped that whatever providence had saved his uncle from death would also apply to his namesake. That his son, his heir, would return out of the storm.
It was certainly possible. The men at the docks even said it was likely, he had never seen the Sword of Baratheon himself, but the men who built it said it had nearly twice the weight of the Great Stag, and that ship was better than most. They even spoke of steel reinforcement, a warship, perhaps greater than his own Fury, which now sat in port at King's Landing, loading troops for his Brother's war.
By duty, he ought to be there with it, but he would not forsake Shireen and Edric during these times. He found that since the news of Arthur's disappearance pursuing the mad Ironborn off the coast of Dorne into the greatest Hurricane to strike that Desert in history, he had even softened in feeling for Selyse. His wife and he shared anguish over their son's disappearance that lessened even their distaste for each other.
Still, Robert had for once showed discretion, given him leave from his duties as Master of Ships even as he called the banners and rallied his armies. It was a bitter thing to think well of brother, but he could not deny the gift he had been given in this.
Dragonstone had changed, as it always seemed to do since his last visit here. The city below the castle was even more massive, outgrowing the rammed earth walls his son had decided to build even before they were finished and spreading into the surrounding ports. Maester Cressen was somehow caught up in its sewer system, which seemed to always be overloaded with the cities growth, but he hadn't seen the old man as active in years, so that was something at least.
It was odd how a boy not yet in his majority could cause so much, not just personally, but for the world beyond. While Arthur had always kept him informed of his company and its growth, it was an entirely different thing to be handed the ledgers and asked for directions. The amount of money passing through the boy's hand's from trade into the pockets of the men in the city below was staggering, at least three times what Stannis himself made in a year from tariffs, the tribute from his vassals, and his salaries combined.
It brought a small smile to his face to realize that with his son's income factored in the Dragonstone Baratheons were likely making more in a year than Renly was in the Stormlands, from his own holdings at least.
The Private military forces of his son were another matter. His armies of mehrines were already larger than the household forces Stannis could call upon to fight on the land, and seemed on track to dwarf what vassals he might be able to call, all armed with their flame-spewing hand-cannons, "rifles" they called them.
Arthur had told him in his letters it was going well, though after questioning the Frey Alchemist it became clear that the lack of information was intended to protect his secrets from spies in King's Landing. A sensible precaution in hindsight, though he could have delivered the information in person safely enough. It irked him slightly that they were distributed across two dozen trading vessels on the route, and thus wouldn't be useful in the coming campaign. Not that he couldn't see the utility in it.
Reading over the boy's work and talking to the Frey, it became clear just how much he was doing, things Stannis never would have thought of, educating smallfolk to make them more useful. Building a dozen new vessels simultaneously, establishing offices in every major port, even in Braavos across the sea.
It was a sobering thing to see how much his son had already done. Probably more than Stannis ever had outside of war. Most Lords were stewards of their realms, but it was clear his son was intent on being more than that.
It was painfully clear that given a bad situation, a barren rock full of sulfur and subjects who loathed him, his son had made a better choice than him, had ordained to make Dragonstone a power in its own right. An equal to the kingdom he had lost.
How could Stannis allow that to fall to ruin? His son's great work, wrecked in its infancy by a storm so like the one that claimed his parents?
Stannis grit his teeth.
He was needed in Kings Landing. Robert wanted to sail to Essos with his army. He needed a master of ships. He needed Stannis.
But Stannis couldn't abandon his son's cause. Living or dead Arthur would want him to see it continued. For Edric and Shireen at the very least.
But Arthur understood duty and wasn't that always the crux of it?
It always came back to duty, the duty to his brother, duty to his family, duty to the realm, duty to his vassals. Always duty.
Stannis sat, and as he sat he grit his teeth.
There was never an easy answer for the Lord of Dragonstone, but that was what being dutiful meant
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