章節 34: Chapter 30 - The Fox's Due, Part IV
A/N: Took a good long while to write this chapter, had to think hard about how to handle the interaction between Reynard Reyne and Tytos Lannister in particular, and on the price of selling Valyrian Steel weapons to the Westerlands. Chapter 31's available on and Ko-Fi for supporters.
Thanks to Tertius711 and Ascalon451 on SB for beta-ing this chapter.
Chapter XXX: The Fox's Due, Part IV
1 BC
Highgarden
Before the conquest of the Westerlands could begin in earnest, there was the matter of the Reach's submission to handle. They were badly bloodied in their war with the Dornish, but their agricultural heartland and logistical capabilities remained intact and their 20,000 remaining troops could easily harass their rear flank like buzzing flies.
To fully impress upon the Reachmen the futility of further resistance, a Targaryen host of 40,000 troops marched to surround the ancient Reach capital and seat of House Gardener while the dragons flew overhead. As expected, outnumbered three-to-one and outmatched in power, the Reachmen were forced to grant unobstructed entry to the invaders, gritting their teeth with impotent helplessness.
Another 10,000 were stationed along the Westerlands border under the command of Rhaenys Targaryen and her dragon Meraxes, to deter any (unlikely) invasion into the Riverlands and maintain pressure on the erstwhile kingdom; just because Loren Lannister focused on defence did not mean there were no fools looking to test their mettle against Targaryen steel.
Within the halls of Highgarden Keep, a recalcitrant King Edmund Gardener received the Targaryen siblings Aegon and Visenya in his own court, and all the nobles gave them a wide berth as the dragonlords approached.
"Good afternoon, King Edmund," Aegon greeted with a smile that did not reach his eyes, "How is your kingdom doing, might I ask?"
"...Fine, all things considered, Lord Aegon," Edmund gritted out, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but in front of the Targaryens.
"I suppose, considering just how badly Lord Arin mauled your vaunted armies," Aegon continued, smirking as he saw some nobles wince, "Though he is merciful to settle this with ransom."
"A ransom we are still preparing to pay, Lord Aegon," Edmund stated, "Though yes, he is more merciful than we expected. Although, I highly doubt you came all this way for idle chatter or to reopen old wounds."
"Smart man," Aegon's smirk widened, "I wish for you to surrender your crown and submit to House Targaryen, and end all meaningless resistance."
Rather than become more recalcitrant than before or even lash out due to wounded pride, Edmund simply sighed and leaned back in his seat, slightly hunched over like an old man tired of the burdens of life.
"What else did I expect…?" Edmund muttered to himself, a derisive tone and expression visible on his face.
Taking a deep breath, Edmund stood up from his throne and took several steps, daring to approach Aegon Targaryen until he was within arm's reach. Aegon's sister-wife Visenya and the Targaryen retinue inched their hands closer towards their weapons and their bodies towards Aegon, anticipating the drawing of his sword at any moment.
"Tell me, Lord Aegon, what is the price for my submission?" Questioned Edmund.
"Nothing else, just the usual clauses of when a vassal submits to his suzerain," Aegon shrugged, "Tithes, taxes, the obligation to raise levies for your liege lord, and so on. Otherwise, I'm content with leaving things as they are in the Reach. Of course, nobles who are obligated to pay ransom under the Highgarden Concordat must continue to pay until it is paid in full."
"You are being awfully generous, though I suppose you have no reason to be cruel to us either," Edmund stated, "At least in every way other than through a casual show of benevolence for a beaten foe."
"Perhaps it is that way, perhaps it is not," Visenya opined, to which Edmund rolled his eyes, "Either way, we are offering you a choice here, King Edmund: Surrender now and we will show mercy. Continue to resist, and… well, you know."
Since when did the Targaryens ever give them a choice in the matter? If they did, they would not bother bringing such a huge army along with their dragons. Perhaps they would not even bring their dragons alongside a small retinue of guards, if they had the intention of giving an actual choice.
Then, very slowly, he fell to a knee, a crippling weight of defeat and despair pulling him down.
"I… Edmund Gardener, Third of my name and King of the Reach, do solemnly swear in the name of House Gardener… that I submit to your mercy and forfeit my kingship [1], and thus pledge the allegiance of the Reach to your house."
His words were like a crushing revelation to all the Reachmen who listened; the fact that the Reach, a proud and powerful kingdom with millennia of history, was being forced to submit to an upstart mock-Freehold barely a century old, was one they half-expected after their disastrous campaign. And yet, knowing was one thing, experiencing it was another.
And now they were to be just another province in the new kingdom Aegon was building. A king submitting to a lord, a joke of cosmic proportions. How the Gods were laughing at their expense, how their ancestors were rolling in their graves.
Aegon reaching for the crown and removing it from his head like some sort of trophy to collect hammered home the absolute shame they felt.
"I, Aegon Targaryen, Lord of my house, accept your surrender," Aegon smiled with satisfaction, as did Visenya and the Targaryen bodyguards.
Harlan Tyrell was next to kneel to Aegon by Edmund's side, and soon the rest of the nobles followed suit. Some breathed small sighs of relief, happy that further bloodshed was avoided. Others grumbled beneath their breaths but said nothing.
With the Reach's submission, Aegon would now turn his eyes on the Westerlands.
IIOII
Casterly Rock
It had been two weeks since the Reach surrendered to the Targaryens under duress, and having pledged his fealty to the dragonlords, Edmund Gardener was named the first Lord Paramount of the Reach, which was really a fancy way of saying 'Lord above Lords' of his lands. Apart from having to contribute what paltry forces the Reach could spare to the Westerlands campaign, they were given time to get their own affairs in order.
Wagons transporting gold and escorted by military trains made their way towards Dorne, and once the delivery was made the ransomed nobles were free to return with the arms and armour on their person, as were the troops under their command. Most prominent among them was Brandyll Tarly, who despite having surrendered to Arin Rada was hailed as a hero for his masterful tactics, valiant defence and preservation of lives when the battle turned sour.
Soon afterwards, the Reach was quick to send 15,000 troops to the Westerlands border without delay under the command of Brandyll Tarly. By then the Westerlands campaign had already begun in earnest, and as expected the Targaryen host's momentum was slowed down somewhat by hit-and-run attacks and dug-in Westerlander positions.
Brandyll's experience in striking against fortified positions in the Red Mountains paid off, and what would have taken weeks instead took days to conquer, restoring their momentum and putting the Westerlands further on the backfoot. Still, the Westerlands had the advantage of geography, countless valleys, caves and ravines with which they used to camouflage themselves, preventing the invaders from easily finding their camps and hideouts.
Dispersing their military might ensured the Westerlands would not suffer as much damage from a dragon attack or a dedicated melee, should they suffer a defeat, though there were already grumblings from more hot-headed nobles at how long the campaign took [2] in spite of the few victories and greater survivability of their knights and infantry.
Some from the Targaryen side expected Arin Rada to join in the fight, unrealistic as it was due to how recent and costly (how costly was unknown) his rebellion was, but Aegon made it explicitly clear that Arin had sacrificed too much and risked all to be dragged from his home to fight in a foreign land, and that no one save him had the right to ask anything else of him.
"How goes the battle, Lord Reyne?"
Much as he hated to admit it, while Reynard Reyne was a slimy snake, his intelligence-gathering capabilities were second to none, and it was through his spies that he was able to regularly obtain a clear picture of the war effort, and it was not going good.
"The Golden Tooth is under heavy assault and we are close to losing the holdouts of Ashemark and Deep Den, My King," Reynard reported, looking very distressed at the news as he wiped some sweat off his forehead, "Should either of these locations fall, they will soon be able to control much more of the paths from the east and south, and they have another detachment marching up the Ocean Road as well."
At least Reynard had the logical sense to fear the Targaryen war machine; ambitious and greedy he may be, but Loren knew Reynard was no fool. Far better than a certain group of numbskulls who still believe in chivalrous combat and glories like a son of his.
"Then it is clear that we must meet them in battle soon, father!" Tytos called to him, "We must strike back and we must strike hard and fast! We cannot hope to simply hole up in our castles forever!"
Though worded as a statement with concern for the war's outcome, Loren knew better; Tytos was extremely impatient and impetuous, wanting very much to distinguish himself in battle and thus prove himself worthy as his father's heir. He resisted the urge to sigh, wishing that being of royal blood did not place such heavy expectations upon his brood.
"We cannot, Tytos, not when the dragons linger like an executioner's axe waiting to incinerate our armies," Loren pointed out, "The moment we gather our troops and attempt an all-out assault, we consign our military might and all hopes of negotiating a favourable peace to a fiery death."
Tytos clenched his hands, gritting his teeth in indignance and impatience, but he dared not go against his father.
"I understand, father," He gritted out.
"Nevertheless, I do understand your concerns, and it is clear we must make adjustments to our strategies," Loren continued, and everyone paid attention to his next words, "We will conduct regular raids on their supply caravans and focus on plundering as much supplies as we can, though any weapons and war machines we find are fair game too. The more we do this, the slower their momentum and the greater our odds of survival."
Hit-and-run tactics would be preferred in this war and with the Westerlands' terrain largely hilly and steep, there were few paths the invaders could take without their troops slipping and falling, making circumvention around key defensive strongholds unfeasible. Many nobles grumbled at the thought of using the same tactics as the Dornish.
There were, however, old mining shafts that, while disused, still remained highly stable and had space to house troops and supplies and which could serve as hiding places from the dragons. Unless the dragons invested tremendous time and effort to scout each and every single one of these mine shafts and then torch them beyond repair, they would have to settle for striking the forts and clearing a path to Casterly Rock.
Said mining shafts proved the key to their survival in the early stages of the war, and though the Westerlander attacks grew less effective, their hiding places never failed the defenders.
Both the Targaryens and general military common sense disliked the thought of an unnecessarily protracted campaign.
Reynard's eyes were calculative and keen as he pondered the plan, and Loren could never feel at ease each time he saw the glint in the Snake's eyes. One did not remain a king by not shaking hands with pigs and snakes, however.
Eventually Reynard nodded to himself and said, "I find no fault in this plan, My King. With luck, such sabotage should buy us enough time to rally our troops, perhaps prepare for a counterattack."
"Again, an all-out counterattack is too risky, not with the dragons lying in wait," Loren reiterated, "For now, that is all. Dismissed."
Reynard clicked his tongue in annoyance, and Loren knew the Snake was also wanting something from this conflict. Exactly what, he could not fathom.
IIOII
The Westerlanders had begun to strike back against the invaders in earnest, raiding supply caravans and stealing supplies and war machines or denying them to the enemy, setting them ablaze before melting back into the countryside.
By striking at caravans unprotected by the dragons and stretching the invading forces thin in a game of cat-and-mouse, they were able to dent the invaders' momentum and buy themselves time to strategize and conjure a more comprehensive plan to fight back against the invaders. At times, they even had to abandon castles once it became certain they could no longer hold them, and the Westerlanders made use of concealed camps to stage their attacks.
Worse, due to their effective killing of Targaryen spies and the defenders changing locations every two weeks, the invaders could not accurately pinpoint the location of enemy camps and root them out with dragonfire.
Of course, this only lasted for a few weeks before the Targaryen spies grew wise and enacted many measures to avoid detection or sabotage the Westerlander spies.
Nevertheless, this caused the fighting to drag on for weeks more before the Reachmen's arrival, and the invaders were beginning to grow frustrated as a result. Some villages were even sacked once they were found to be harbouring Westerlander troops, and Loren had to deal with more complaints from the nobles as a result; loss of tax revenue, damage to their lands, the deaths of their subjects and so on.
While Loren remained adamant in his more defensive stance and faced mounting pressure from his own generals, the Targaryens remained strangely calm and unbothered despite the pinpricking attacks they suffered where others expected them to grow increasingly impatient.
Some believed they were just arrogant, too self-assured of the power of their dragons. Others believed they had a plan up their sleeves.
Every time the Targaryens were questioned about the plan, they simply smiled and explained that to reveal it now was to jeopardise the plan and thus make the conquest of the Westerlands more difficult, and refused to elaborate further. When asked if Arin was helping them, they simply laughed and pointed out that Arin was preoccupied with matters at home.
Either way, the Targaryen armies had no choice but to trust in their masters.
IIOII
"This cannot go on."
Tytos Lannister watched from a window in the keep of Casterly Rock that oversaw the training of new Westerlander troops, green peasants being moulded into stoic and unfeeling soldiers under the careful, abusive instruction of their drillmasters. They all resembled lambs being sent to a slaughterhouse, in his eyes.
"We have won some victories and blunted the enemy's momentum, but for what? Prolonging the inevitable?" Tytos muttered to himself, "This cannot go on; we must take a risk even if it goes against my father's decree. But how many will actually follow me on this?"
Much as he hated to admit it, being the Crown Prince did not truly afford him much political clout, and those who did profess loyalty to him tended to be those slimy pigs who held no real loyalties and just wanted to curry favour. He needed real allies, real generals and war veterans who commanded military power.
"You seem troubled, Prince Tytos."
Tytos turned to face Reynard Reyne who walked towards him, and instantly Tytos adopted a more guarded demeanour.
Reynard held up his hands in placation, "Peace, Your Highness. No need to be so suspicious of me."
"My father always told me to be wary of you, the Snake of House Reyne, and frankly there is something about you that makes my skin crawl," Said Tytos, flinching away as if to prove his statement, "So do forgive me if I feel suspicious of you."
Reynard did not seem bothered by this, simply laughing as he said, "What else should I expect? In any case, I know of your grievance with this whole affair - practically the whole court knows."
Tytos knew he could say nothing to that.
"Your point being?" He scoffed.
"If you truly wish to force a confrontation with the Targaryen armies, we all know that His Grace must be forcibly removed from power and all military command assumed under you," Reynard explained, idly twiddling with his thumbs, "However, it must also be done with a just cause and with popular support on your side, or else even if your takeover is successful, you will likely be ousted from power as soon as you take the reins. Another option is to swiftly subdue and imprison your parents before anyone can react, and then take power by making a much-desired declaration."
"Tell me what I do not already know," Tytos demanded with a hard glare.
"My point is, Your Highness, there is already a just cause for you to exploit," Reynard answered, "You know of the grumblings among the nobility, do you not?"
Tytos heard mention of the nobles' dissatisfaction with the current state of affairs every day. The servants, the guards, everyone who passed their version of news and rumours told a common trend: That the nobles were desiring a quicker end to this war, one way or another.
And now he found himself nodding in agreement despite his reservations about Reynard.
"Continue," Tytos beckoned, his voice reflecting greater interest.
Reynard smiled at his success.
"As you know, your father is facing mounting pressure for this reason, and though the Old Lion stands steadfast, the dam is approaching its breaking point," He pointed out, "Sooner or later, someone else will initiate such a takeover, perhaps approaching any of your warrior siblings for this undertaking."
Tytos resisted the urge to curse; while Arwald had the talent for military command and was a strong warrior proficient with the mace, he was easily misled by brown-nosing nobles with the talent for flattery, and any one of them could also easily deceive him to charge towards his early death. That could not happen no matter what.
Leaving only one viable commander among the Lannister sons.
"Can you help me wrest power from my father?" Tytos asked.
Reynard bowed with flourish and a slimy smile, "Why, of course, Your Highness! I already have contacts we can approach to ensure a smooth transition of power. Just say the word."
Tytos nodded without hesitation, his eyes burning with purpose.
"We are saving House Lannister."
No matter Arwald's thoughts on the matter, he was deathly loyal to Tytos, and should the rebellion succeed he would throw in his lot with the Crown Prince, negating any possible plot for the throne.
IIOII
"Dear Gods, you hear these nobles bitching and whining about the war?" The first guard groaned in frustration.
"Yeah. Attack this, worthless defence that. It's either one or the other and it's all about the war with the Targaryens, y'know what I'm saying?" The second guard agreed, leaning lazily on his spear for support.
The guards on watch duty that night had little better to do than engage in idle chatter as did the rest of their colleagues in this profession. Boredom was a most terrible mind-killer, and Humans were never made to be idle. A quiet night like this, free of any trouble or chaos was perfect for their regular chats.
"Y'have to admit, it's plenty of bad news coming from the front. Whole forts and camps burnt to cinders by dragons, our armies losing ground, villages sacked, it's no wonder the nobles are complaining to the king," The first guard commented, shaking his head.
"Don't we know it," The second guard remarked snarkily, "Sooner this war business is over, the sooner they get to bitching about other things."
"Wait, you hear that?" Asked the first guard.
"Hear what?"
They soon saw a group of men quickly approaching, the cloaks on their persons obscuring their faces and their behaviour the definition of suspicious.
"Hey, stop ri-"
Both guards were quickly stabbed in the gut before they could react, the air driven out of their lungs as they crumpled to the ground in pools of blood.
"Quickly, before the rest of the castle is alerted!" The leader ordered, "We must isolate King Loren and take him and the rest of the Lannisters hostage!"
"Aye, Sir!" The others chorused.
Throughout the keep, guards were slaughtered swiftly and noiselessly, knives and crossbows the weapons of choice for the perpetrators as they inched closer towards the royal bedchambers where Loren Lannister, his wife and son Arwald were fast asleep with no idea of the treachery transpiring.
They quickly awoke to sounds of combat, of steel brandished and clashing as screams and shouts echoed through the corridors.
"Husband? What's going on?"
Janna Lannister, wife of Loren, a gracefully aged matron who held both beauty and power in equal measure in both youth and twilight years. Loren fell in love with both her and her connections, being a scion of House Tarbeck.
"I do not know, Janna," Loren muttered, reaching for his sword, "But if they look to kill us, they will not find me easy prey."
The doors to their bedchambers were kicked down, and hooded men quickly reached for Loren who swiftly reacted with his sword, slicing through flesh and killing at least two assailants before the rest surrounded him, one of them knocking him out with a butt of a knife pommel to the head, the other quickly hitting Janna in the back of her neck with deftness and gentleness of a professional.
"I apologise, Father, Mother. I promise, I will personally accept responsibility once we achieve victory against the Targaryens."
The voice, one he heard countless times, shocked Loren in the last shred of lucidity he held before he fell to the ground, out cold and unable to fight back.
Sighing heavily with regret and remorse, his shoulders slumping as the consequences of his deeds dawned on him, Tytos knew there was no going back from this.
One of the cloaked men rushed to Tytos, saluting crisply.
"My Prince, we have subdued and detained your brother Prince Arwald. He is unharmed, as you ordered," He reported.
Tytos nodded with slight relief, and then ordered, "Have my parents kept in the dungeon, but treat them well as you would treat proper royalty, and subdue all resistance in the keep and make sure no one leaves to tell the tale. Meanwhile, I will talk to my brother Arwald."
"Understood, My Prince," The man saluted as he took his leave.
With the first phase done, the next phase was to commence.
IIOII
The next morning…
The nobles quickly gathered for a conference in the throne room after being summoned by Tytos. Everyone wondered what the agenda was today; was there to be a change in the overall strategy by the Old Lion?
Everyone was bewildered by the fact it was not Loren Lannister seated on the golden throne of Casterly Rock but his eldest son, and some of the more politically savvy nobles quickly realised that something was amiss.
"His Highness Prince Tytos Lannister calls this court to order!" A herald announced.
There was no mention of Loren leaving court matters in Tytos's hands or of Loren taking ill, which was highly unlikely given his good health despite his old age. Neither was Tytos's mother or brother Arwald in sight.
"Proud nobles of the Westerlands, I bring you important news," Tytos announced, feeling a surety he did not think possible seep into his words, "Due to my father's ill-health, I have been forced to take up the reins of power in his absence, and my brother and mother are indisposed, unable to attend court for the time being."
It made absolutely no sense for Janna and Arwald Lannister to be indisposed when there was nothing occupying their attention, no sickness invalidating them.
When Reynard smiled at them, more than a few instinctively flinched and averted their eyes from his personage.
"Nevertheless, I must call on you now, noble sons of Westeros, to raise your banners and fight in the name of our proud kingdom!" Tytos continued with his rousing speech, "We cannot continue to fight a defensive war when the invaders ravage and pillage our fair country, slaughtering countless innocents and damaging our property! We must take the fight to the Targaryens, dragons be damned!"
"Hear, hear!" Reynard shouted, others echoing his words.
"For this reason, I issue a call to arms to every bannerman, to take arms and take the fight to the invaders! This day, we march to drive them from our homes for good!" Tytos shouted, unfurling a scroll bearing the wax seal of House Lannister, "Due to my father taking ill, I have assumed command of the Westerlander military! My first order is to call the banners for an assault!"
"Hoorah!" Many of the nobles cheered, eager to seize their glory and defend their fatherland.
While many of the militaristic nobles and knights formed a chorus of cheers and ayes, the other nobles - more inclined towards intrigue and diplomacy - frowned at this turn of events, as did the seasoned veteran generals who instantly saw the entire chain of events for what it was: A ruse by Reynard Reyne.
A great number of influential nobles also joined in the round of applause Reynard initiated, and for those who did not hold much faith in Tytos's plan, it was as if the ground suddenly sank beneath their feet.
House Tarbeck, a house as old as House Lannister and sharing a highly rich and storied history, famed for housing rich mines that, while not as stuffed with gold as the mines of Casterly Rock were, nevertheless houses sizeable veins of silver and iron and yielded the occasional gemstone that made for immaculate jewellery in the hands of master jewellers.
House Westerling, another ancient house tracing its origins back to the time of the Age of Heroes, the principle bannermen of House Lannister who share blood ties through countless marriage alliances, landowner of large tracts of arable farmland and profitable mines and ports that housed merchants visiting from many parts of Andalic Westeros. A house with as much pride as their military and financial power.
House Prester, also some of House Lannister's principle bannermen, fielding some of the best warriors and knights ever known in the Westerlands - the Crimson Bulls. Feared far and wide among their foes, the Crimson Bulls of House Prester blaze a trail in battle like fire against a field of reeds.
House Marbrand, one of the main noble houses of the Westerlands, a house that while not as old or powerful as the aforementioned three houses, nevertheless held prominence as a family who maintained power and connections through rich trade in the mining and blacksmithing industries as a prominent supplier of both raw materials and finished goods.
With these principal houses lending their support to Tytos Lannister and without a unifying charismatic figure to match Tytos as a claimant to the throne, it became increasingly clear that any form of sedition would never bear fruit. They could only grin and bear it as the condescending Snake flaunted his victory in their faces, and in their minds they imagined a thousand ways to gut, grind and genocide the Snake as repayment for this brazen plot.
They could only hope that by the end of this doomed war, the Westerlands would not suffer debilitating consequences. Or at least, as little as they can afford to handle.
However unlikely that favourable outcome would be.
IIOII
To His Lordship Aegon Targaryen,
Our plan to subdue King Loren and put his son Tytos in command of the Westerlands has borne fruit, and now he marches the entire martial might of the kingdom to their doom towards the fortress of the Golden Tooth.
I know you shall be victorious, my liege, and I shall pray for your assured success.
Sincerely,
R
Aegon felt conflicted upon reading the letter, and was quick to have it chucked into a nearby brazier once his sister-wives and trusted commanders read it as well. On one hand, he was assured of the Snake's ability to manipulate unsuspecting victims which delivered him this victory against the Westerlands. On the other hand, he felt that perhaps seeing an opportunity unlike any other, Reynard was overplaying his hand with his honeyed words.
The other commanders had already departed the command tent, but Orys, as Aegon's right-hand man, stayed behind for further discussion.
"That bloody snake…" Aegon muttered with irritation, "I knew he was an opportunist, but he is really laying it on thick here."
"Tytos is partly to blame with his overeagerness, but you are right, Egg," Visenya remarked, "At least Arin knows not to reach for things he can't get."
"Only because he already has everything he wants," Rhaenys added, "And with how easily he convinced Tytos, who is to say the Snake will not repeat such a calamity to our detriment instead?"
"We deal with the Westerlander army, then we deal with him," Aegon shrugged, though his expression radiated terrible annoyance.
"As we dealt with the Petty Kings of Blackwater Bay, the Ironborn and the Stormlanders," Orys added, sharing his half-brother's annoyance, "As I dealt with the traitors who sold out their queen Argella during the siege of Storm's End."
"Beg your pardon for intruding, My Lords and Ladies, but Lady Aimelia Rada from Dorne has come seeking an audience with you," A guard informed, confusing the Targaryen siblings.
"Aimelia? Lord Arin's mother?" Rhaenys mouthed aloud, "What could she be doing here…?"
"I don't know, but it's best to hear it from her lips," Visenya muttered, to which Aegon and his siblings nodded in agreement.
"Let her in," Aegon beckoned.
The guard saluted and permitted Aimelia entry, and it was for the first time they beheld the mother of the Black Fox.
Aimelia, gracefully aged and beautiful through meticulous care, looked no older than thirty-and-five despite being in her forties with her light brown skin free of blemishes and wrinkles, her smile charming countless men. Carrying herself with grace, elegance and dignity befitting a noblewoman, she curtseyed to Aegon the Valyrian way - right hand clasped over her shoulder and a deep bow.
"My respects to His Lordship Aegon Targaryen and Her Ladyships Rhaenys and Visenya Targaryen of the Crownlands, and to His Lordship Orys Baratheon of the Stormlands," Aimelia greeted deferentially, "I am Lady Aimelia Rada of Arsalm, and I come on behalf of my son to request permission to take part in peace negotiations to follow."
"You do?" Questioned Aegon, "Pardon me, but this seems awfully convenient."
"How so?" Aimelia asked, genuinely bewildered by Aegon's question.
Aegon, his sisters and Orys shared brief glances, scrutinising Aimelia's body language for any signs of lying and found none, strange as it seemed to them.
"You truly have not heard?" Questioned Aegon once again.
"No, I and my party only just arrived and heard tell-tale of the Westerlanders becoming increasingly desperate in their war against your armies, My Lord," Aimelia stated, "Is there something I missed?"
Aegon subconsciously nodded to himself with relief, and he quickly harrumphed and said, "Well, we just received news from an inside source that King Loren and Queen Janna Lannister were imprisoned by their son Crown Prince Tytos, who has now assumed command of the Westerlander armies. Both he and his brother Prince Arwald are marching the entirety of their martial might towards the Golden Tooth."
Instantly Aimelia frowned heavily and adopted a more guarded demeanour, "Is this insider responsible for manipulating the Crown Prince?"
Trust Arin's family to catch on with uncanny accuracy.
"Yes, he is," Visenya answered, "Do pardon us for suspecting you, but considering your son's reputation…"
Aimelia simply sighed and took it in good stride, "I suppose it is to be expected."
"Might we ask why you came all the way to the Westerlands, Lady Aimelia?" Asked Rhaenys, "I cannot fathom you having any business here unless it is for Lannister coin."
"It is, Lady Rhaenys," Aimelia affirmed, "My son believes that on top of Reach and Targaryen gold, we need Lannister gold to help bolster our coffers to facilitate the rebuilding of Dorne. To that end, we plan to sell them Valyrian Steel weapons."
"Weapons? Not one weapon?" Visenya questioned, "And how many do you plan to sell, for what price?"
"Three swords, each for the price of ten million Gold Lions [3]," Aimelia answered.
At this, the Targaryens and Orys were completely flummoxed, staring at Aimelia with wide eyes.
"Ten million each, for a total of thirty Gold Lions?" Aegon questioned, his voice sounding both unconvinced and in denial, "Does he truly need that much, at all?"
"I must agree with my brother; I would assume Lord Arin Rada needs only about two to three million Gold Lions at most," Orys opined, "Is he planning a slew of expensive projects, if you do not mind me asking?"
"...To be honest, he stated in no uncertain terms that he needed this much to tide him over at least two to three decades, Lord Aegon, and Lord Orys is right on that," Aimelia answered, sounding unconvinced herself, "Though I do admit, thirty million in total is excessive, even though Brightroar [4] was purchased at seven million Gold Lions."
"So he expects to spend that much?" Aegon rhetorically stated, "Trust the Black Fox to completely defy expectations once again."
Aimelia offered a helpless shrug, "For what it is worth, he always does so many things defying expectations, My Lord. I myself cannot truly understand how his mind works sometimes."
"A sentiment we all share, Lady Aimelia," Orys agreed, "Though I shudder to think what destruction he would wrought were he born a Reachman or a Stormlander. Might I ask you a question, Lady Aimelia?"
"Ask away," Aimelia beckoned.
"Forgive me if this sounds accusatory, but you could have sold the Valyrian Steel blades to House Lannister before our campaign, and once we defeated them you could have taken them back," Orys stated, looking at Aimelia with no small amount of suspicion while the Targaryens watched Orys closely, "Then you could have walked away with both the blades and the gold, and the Lannisters left with neither. Surely you could do that much?"
Aimelia stared long and hard at Orys, who was gauging her reaction in turn. An unbidden, unspoken war of determination was waged between their eyes, each awaiting the other breaking eye contact.
Then Aimelia decided to break the ice.
"We could have done that, most certainly," She said, her voice guarded and neutral, "Though at that point, we would have completely damaged all trust in us beyond repair. And it was just unnecessary - we already gave the heavy hand to our Dornish enemies."
"Orys," Aegon called out sternly.
Orys relented with a slight bow, stepping back.
"My apologies, Lady Aimelia," Orys said, "I have only heard hearsay about your son and your family, and for you to come at such an opportune time…"
"It is forgiven, Lord Orys," Aimelia reassured.
"Nevertheless, I still find it an overtly high price to charge for Valyrian Steel swords, Lady Aimelia," Rhaenys pointed out matter-of-factly, "Where did you obtain such weapons, by the way?"
"From the Reachmen, after they were defeated at the Battle of the Eyarha Plains," Aimelia explained.
"I see," Aegon nodded to himself, "Very well, once we defeat the Westerlands, you shall have a place in the peace negotiations to follow."
"Thank you, My Lord," Aimelia smiled.
"For now, you are dismissed," Aegon said, and Aimelia bowed to take her leave.
Once they were alone, Aegon said to the others, "You all heard the price she quoted for the Valyrian Steel blades, yes?"
"No one asks for that much money, not unless they are truly desperate," Visenya answered first, her brows furrowed, "And if Arin needs that much money…"
"Then he is broke," Rhaenys concluded, "I suppose for one who is so reckless and relentless, it is fitting he has to deal with the consequences of his actions."
"And considering they were looted, I think their perceived value may drop as a result," Orys commented with a nod, "Or rather, I think he knew this, and thus decided that rather than perform a dastardly deed to reap all the benefits, he would perform an even worse deed by forcing them to pay him the stipulated amount using us as the mediator. Perhaps he foresaw all this, hence why he chose to not come in person and instead send his mother as diplomat."
"Oh Brother, you truly have a bad habit of overthinking certain things at times," Aegon shook his head, "Honestly speaking though, you are half-right and half-wrong."
"How so, Brother?" Asked Orys with curiosity.
"Think about it this way; why would Lady Aimelia react with confusion when we mentioned a turn of events to our advantage in the Westerlands? More concerningly, why would Arin choose to send his mother on this important mission which was to be done after our victory, and not before?" Aegon listed with each finger, and instantly Orys was able to follow the logic, "You are right in that her timing was deliberately planned, but you are wrong in assuming he was here to enact his more dastardly schemes here as he did in Dorne."
"In other words… he wants to play things safe, now?" Orys suggested.
"That seems to be the case," Aegon nodded, "Yet another comfort to draw on."
"Because this shows that his ambitions are strictly limited to Dorne and nowhere else in Westeros," Visenya put forth, relaxing her demeanour slightly, "And now that his ambitions are fulfilled, he will be more… docile, for the future."
"I do not know if 'docile' is the correct word to describe him, but you do have a point," Rhaenys nodded in agreement.
"Then this council is dismissed," Aegon stated, "Tell the men to get rested; tomorrow, we end this pointless war."
[1] This came to be known as the Kneeling of the Greenhands, and it became an eternal mark of shame for the Reachmen. It was from this event that the idiom 'strangled greenhands' came to be.
[2] This was less a pragmatic cause for concern and more a slight against the pride of the Westerlanders, for never before did invaders ever dare penetrate so deep into their territory and dearly wished to repay the invaders for this insolence. A mistake that would ultimately cost them far more than their lives and property.
[3] Gold Lions - The standard highest value currency in the Kingdom of the Westerlands before its annexation during Aegon's Conquest.
[4] Brightroar - A Valyrian Steel blade that was once the treasured heirloom blade of House Lannister, it was lost during King Tommen II Lannister's ill-fated expedition into the ruins of Valyria, and both king and blade and lost, never to be seen again. It is said that over seven million Gold Lions were paid in exchange for the prized blade.
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