Aelyx – 31
A party raged through the camp as the men celebrated their latest victory. Although it would be far more accurate to call it my latest victory as the gates of Zarnosh had opened the moment our forces had crossed the horizon. The decision having already been made days earlier when the town first saw Vhagar swoop over days prior. Although, I supposed that had likely increased the army's happiness as they were able to reap the rewards of a conquest without having to bleed for it. Dragons did tend to simplify military offensives when the other side lacked fire-breathing creatures of their own. The already celebratory mood was further enhanced when, as part of our initial settlement with Zarnosh, they handed over several dozen barrels of wine and beer. There were also several casks of Tyroshi pear brandy, which had been set aside for the officers. The gift had made us wary at first. This world, like earth, had several tales of smaller forces falling on a difficult foe who had drunk themselves into a stupor. To counteract this, the men had been forced to draw lots, with those receiving the short straw standing watch for the night. I had also placed Vhagar in between the camp and the town. Any force that attempted to sally out would be met with a fiery death long before they reached to inebriated camp. Although conjuring such a force would be quite the trick as we had already required both the town militia and its contingent of slave soldiers to disarm earlier in the day. Their weapons now lay in a large pile at the center of camp.
Twice throughout the night, I was awoken from my place resting by Vhagar's side by shouted challenges from sentries directed at moving shapes in the dark. But both times, nothing came of them. It seemed Zarnosh was simply hoping that soldiers happy with the town's generosity would be less likely to engage in looting when they entered the settlement.
The following morning, I was joined by my three commanders, two of whom were nursing hangovers as we waited in the command tent for the provincial magistrates to arrive to negotiate the terms of the surrender they had offered yesterday. The large-scale disbarment I had demanded yesterday had simply been the condition to open those terms, a symbol of their submission. As I waited, I pondered my coming course of action. Zarnosh was the first town that I had conquered in my own name. While I had undoubtedly been the key contributor to the Pentoshi conquest of Myr, it had been understood since the beginning that it would be Pentos who administered the lands. Now, though, I was facing the prospect of ruling a large slice of the coast of the Myrth for the next two years at the minimum and possibly more, depending on the decisions that I made going forward. It was a rather different prospect, the reformation of the kingdom of the Stepstones, which, if all went as planned, would involve establishing a series of military outposts followed by colonization efforts. While here, I would be forced to navigate the existing politics and power structures.
After a short wait, a soldier stuck his head through the tent flaps and informed us that the magisters of Zarnosh had arrived at the edge of camp. I told him to show them in, and after a few minutes, the four Tyroshi entered the tent and settled onto the divans opposite to us. My gaze flitted across their faces. They were career politicians and, as such, capable of concealing their emotions, but I could see the unease reflected in their gaze. I did not blame them; after all, this was not a negotiation so much as a dictation of terms to someone who had already offered their unconditional surrender. Even if my demands were onerous beyond all reason and measure, there was nothing they could do but accept or face annihilation.
One of the slave attendants the Tyroshi had brought stepped forward and introduced the magisters as Arapho Sanion, Horro Flaereos, Jaqano Orlos, and Varar Marirah, with Sanion being the First Magister of Zarnosh. Following that, one of the freedmen secretaries that I had brought with me from Myr introduced my commanders and I, styling me the Prince-Regent of the Kingdom of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea.
As soon as the introductions were complete, I leaned forward and began to speak. "I first wish to reassure you that my promise from yesterday holds; with your surrender, Zarnosh will be spared a sack. And that promise will continue to hold for so long as you continue in your cooperation. I would like to further reassure you that once our army enters the city, strict orders will be given to curtail any individual impulses toward looting among my soldiers. There is no reason that this enterprise should not remain civil."
The magisters relaxed minutely but remained wary. My assurances still left room for a lot of demands.
"Eventually, I will be moving to reclaim my father's kingdom in the Stepstones, which has unfortunately fallen into the hands of pirates and malcontents. However, to conduct such a campaign, I will need a staging ground." I trailed off, casting a meaningful gaze at my opposites.
"Do you intend to use Zarnosh as that staging ground?" Asked Sanion. Visions of being forced to play host to an army for years no doubt danced in his mind.
"Only in part," I told him. "I intend to sweep west across the entire coastline from here to the Landing and subject every one of the coastal towns. Over the next several years, the taxes that you would have paid to Tyrosh will instead be owed to House Targaryen. You will assist in my efforts to prepare for my invasion of the Stepstones, and in return, I will leave you, your town, and your estates unmolested."
I was being somewhat truthful; if I judged it necessary, I would interfere in the affairs of Zarnosh without compunction, but for now, establishing emphasizing continuity to the local status quo was in my best interest. It would only be in Kylos, further down the coast, where I intended to make my headquarters, that I would actually seize control of the government.
"That's all you want?" asked Orlos in disbelief. "For Zarnosh to pay you the same taxes we would have sent to Tyrosh."
I gave him a pleasant smile. If he was going to insist on giving me such an opening, then it would be almost rude not to take it.
"There will also be a one-time tribute as a sign of your submission. Shall we say fifty thousand golden towers?"
Sanion nodded, his lips pressed into a pale line. It was a hefty amount but hardly crippling for a town as prosperous as Zarnosh.
Beyond that, you will accept a token garrison from among my forces while simultaneously disbanding the personal forces of each of the local magisters."
"How many men will be in this garrison?" Flaereos queried.
"I will be detaching the Captain Arillos Enell and his Strong Men who number two hundred. Now, on the topic of numbers, how many slave soldiers are in the city?"
Sanion frowned. "There is a contingent of five hundred owned by the Zarnosh itself; there are also many in private hands, but I am unsure of the exact number."
"Guess."
"Perhaps four hundred throughout the town and another six hundred scattered across the hinterlands in various estates."
"So, fifteen hundred total," I mused, drawing hesitant nods from the magisters.
"As of now, they are free," I proclaimed.
That drew a reaction from the Tyroshi, as several shot to their feet, squawking in protest.
I fixed them with a dark glare until they quieted and sank back into their seats.
"They shall all be freed and enrolled into three indentured companies of five hundred each and transferred to my command. One of those companies will remain in Zarnosh under the command of Captain Enell, the rest shall accompany me in my march westward."
Half of those that I brought with me would be placed under the command of Rupert and the other under Aenann. I did feel somewhat bad about essentially drafting these men into my war, but it was not so different than the Westerosi levy system. And unlike in their current state, the men would be paid and eventually released from my service as free men.
"If you force us to disband our retinues and take from us our slave soldiers, how do you intend for us police the town or keep our laborers in line." One of the magisters asked angrily.
"I suppose you will have to rely on Captain Enell and his sellswords along with the new freedmen company. I will continue paying the salaries of the Strong Men and will, of course, undertake the payment of the two freedmen Indenture Companies accompanying me, but as they will be protecting you, Zarnosh will, of course, provide the wages for the freemen who will remain in the city."
I noted that several of the magisters had purpled with rage as I finished speaking. It was unsurprising as I had stripped from them what they viewed as their property and was using said property to hold a sword to their throats while forcing them to pay for the privilege.
Savoring the moment, I allowed my mask of indifference to fall for a moment and let the Tyroshi see the smug grin that I had been suppressing since they walked into the tent.Mysaria 1
"I would cease your struggles. There are only five people alive who know of your location, and none of them will betray me." Mysaria told the man tied to the chair across from her.
Larys Strong glared from across the table. "Do you really think that you will get away with this? I am the son of the Hand of the King. My father will have the watch tear the city apart searching for me."
"Perhaps." She acknowledged. "But you will be dead long before anyone even thinks to look for you. Your habit of skulking around means that no one will think to wonder when they haven't seen you for a few days. I estimate that it will be at least four days before the hue and cry is raised."
Shock flickered across Strong's face. " You are going to kill me?"
"Why yes," Mysaria said. "What did you think was happening?"
"Who are you?" Larys whispered.
Mysaria's lips quirked in surprised delight. He didn't know who she was.
"Some have called me Lady Misery."
The blood drained from the noble's face. Ah, so he knew the name, just not the face.
He gritted his teeth and tried to mask his fear. "And you think being Prince Daemon's former whore, will protect you from the consequences of this?"
"Well, I think that being the mother of the rider of the world's largest dragon will make most hesitate to move against me. But once again, you fail to understand; no one knows that you are here, and when your body is discovered, no one will ever connect you to this place."
Larys gaped at her, the reality of his situation finally seeming to sink in. "Why?" he breathed at last.
The Lyseni transplant rolled her eyes. "Surely you must suspect. When you first began to build your little network years ago, I paid it no mind. There are a dozen like it in King's Landing, and given your deformity, it made sense that you would seek other means of power. And then you went and killed your brother. The City Watch has become quite the ally to my enterprises over the last two years, so when one of their captains, the heir of Harenhall no less, was stabbed to death in a back ally, I, of course, exerted my resources to discover the culprit."
She paused, savoring his fear.
"Imagine my surprise when the trail led back to his own brother."
Larys affected a horrified visage. "My brother, no I could never. You are deranged to even think such a thing. Such depravity may be common in Essos, but here in the Seven Kingdoms, we care for our families."
"Save the theatrics, Lord Larys. Do you truly think I would have taken such drastic actions had I been any less than certain of your guilt?"
"If you truly were so certain, then why not take your evidence to the Red Keep?"
"I considered it, but could you imagine the scandal, the brave and noble Ser Harwin Strong murdered by his greedy and grasping cripple of a younger brother in an attempt to steal his inheritance. Poor Lord Strong, one son murdered and another going to the block for the crime. Not only would it destroy the man, but it would also throw the entire Black faction at court into chaos."
Mysaria cocked her head pretending as though a thought had just occurred "tell me, were you simply going to wait for your father to die or were you going to hurry him along."
Her captive glared at her.
She shrugged. "I suppose it doesn't matter. Here is what is going to happen. You are going to write down the names of all your informants." She slid a stack of parchment and writing implements across the table. "After that, you will be killed, and your body dumped in Fleabottom. The subsequent investigation will make it appear as though you were investigating a Watch Lieutenant with known ties to the Greens, who felt past over when Breakbones was reinstated as a captain of the Gold Cloaks as a potential culprit in your brother's murder. He will take the blame for both the murders. Make no mistake, you will die soon, Lord Larys; however, your cooperation will determine how painful your death is."
The Strong's face was twisted with rage. "You bitch." He hissed. "You won't get away with this."
"Yes, I will," she told him before moving to stand.
"Wait, where are you going? Help! Help!"
Myseria glanced over her shoulder as she walked away. "Screams are common in this part of the city. No one will come."
She opened to door and slipped from the room. As the door closed behind her, muffling the cries for help, she turned to the giant of a man leaning against the wall. "Get the names of the informants if you can, but I would prefer not to keep him here for too long. I don't think this building can be tied to either of us, but I don't wish to take any chances."
The man nodded. "I would put coin on him breaking easily, but regardless of what occurs, he will be dead and gone from this place by the hour of the wolf."
"I also implied that if he cooperated, he would receive a relatively painless death."
At that, Luthor's eyes narrowed. "I am afraid I will be breaking your word, Lady Misery. he killed a Gold Cloak, and that can only be answered with agony."
"Very well." It was not as though she truly cared.
She moved past the captain, trailing her fingers across his breast plate as she did so. "I shall see you once the deed is done."
Myseria pulled her cloak off the hook on the wall and swung it over her shoulders. She pulled the hood up over her head, concealing her distinctive hair as she stepped out onto the streets. There was a large Valyrian community in King's Landing, but there was no need to take chances at possible recognition. There were two men waiting for her in the street, and they fell in behind her as she began the long walk through the winding streets of King's Landing back towards her manse.
As she walked, she considered how things had changed over the past two years, as she had gone from being a brothel owner and information broker to a power within the city who could reach out and strike down the son of the Hand of the King. When she and Daemon parted, Myseria had been a wealthy woman. The jewelry and other gifts that he had lavished upon her during the course of their decade-long relationship had been converted into enough hard currency that, if she had chosen, she could have lived the rest of her life in relative comfort. However, that was not enough for her, so she returned to King's Landing and opened a pleasure house, and from there built a network of informants that caught every whisper and unearthed every dirty secret the city and the Red Keep had to hide. No longer was she simply the mistress of a prince; Mysaria mattered in her own right.
And then, her darling son had appeared at her door. How proud she had been when she saw him, riding a dragon and bearing the name Targaryen. Aelyx had, of course, been styled a prince during their time on Bloodstone, but she had always known that he would be displaced should Daemon father a trueborn son, or as it turned out, lose his petty kingdom. But, with Vhagar as his to command and acknowledged by Viserys himself as a member of the royal family, Aelyx's place in the world was, if not assured, far more secure. She had worried when they had first parted that he would distance himself from her, that he would try and make the world forget that for all his father was a prince that his mother was a dancing girl who had escaped from slavery solely because she had caught a royal eye.
But, her son had come back to her and embraced her as his mother; he was not ashamed of her nor his origins. And he had ideas, oh, did he have ideas. It was because of his suggestions that she had deepened her already existing alliance with the Watch. The Gold Cloaks were thugs, she had no illusion of that, but they were thugs united in the belief that they owned the streets of the city. Common thieves and murderers would be dealt with swiftly and brutally, but less overt criminal enterprises were tolerated so long as they received their due. She had joined forces with Luthor Largent, and together, they had built a sprawling empire in the shadows. Their first action had been the expansion and semi-formalization of the system of protection payments that many businesses already owed to the watch. Now, it was understood that if you wanted to operate any sort of business within the city walls, you paid for the privilege. Those who refused found themselves floating in the Blackwater. From there, the Watch expanded into the docks, striking deals with the customs agents and seizing control of the smuggling.
For Mysaria's part, she had deepened her information network into every crook and cranny of the city. She had become a bank, too, offering loans to hundreds throughout the city. Those who didn't pay her back in a timely manner found either the Gold Cloaks of her own men knocking on their door. Nor had she contented herself with merely criminal enterprises. She had made a habit of buying up the property of those who folded under the weight of her loans or the protection money owed to the guards. In addition to her brothel, she now was the owner of two taverns, a tannery, and three fishing boats, and held partial interest in a dozen more businesses. The recent influx of capital that Aelyx had sent her from Myr had only accelerated the pace of her acquisitions.
And hadn't that been a shock her son, had toppled a Free City, and was now carving his way through the northern territories of Tyrosh. The fall of Myr had been met with jubilation throughout the city. For years, the city had felt the pinch of the Triarchy's control of the Stepstones, and now a son of Westeros had brought the slavers to their knees. The reaction in court had been far more mixed. The Blacks had trumpeted her son's success, calling it a great victory. The Greens, in turn, had been horrified, and repeated petitions had been directed at King Viserys asking him to censure Aelyx for throwing the politics of Essos into chaos in a direct contradiction to decades of Targaryen policy. As for the king, he had demurred from making an official statement, neither condemning Aelyx for directly violating the understanding that he would not attempt to take Free City nor applauding him for his victory. Personally, Mysaria believed that the king was troubled by her son's actions but was unwilling to take a hard stand, both because he had unofficially sanctioned the campaign to begin with and because all the grown dragon riders in the realm cleaved to the same faction as Aelyx.
Mysaria dismissed her mental wanderings as the buildings around her began to change, from the ramshackle constructions of Fleabottom to the better-appointed homes and shops of artisans. She wound her way through several more streets before coming to a row of moderately sized manses. This street sat right on the edge of respectability; it was removed from the humbler dwelling behind her but was also set apart from the great manses of the wealthy merchants and guild masters, which were in turn segregated from the manses maintained by the various noble families for use when they were in the city. It was here that Mysaria had moved once she had relocated from her brothel. As she approached her home, the attendants standing guard swung open the wrought iron gates to allow her passage. She looked up at the massive structure lit by lanterns and smiled. if you had told her younger self, still a slave in Lys, that one day she would own something like this, she would have laughed in your face.Aelyx - 32
I drummed my fingers across the desk as I stared at the two men standing across from me. One was Malaen Stassan, the son of a local of Kylos, notable, and the other was Baran, a former slave soldier and now freedman who had been elected from among the ranks of Kylos's new freeman contingent to represent them.
"First off, I would just like to clarify to both of you that whatever arrangement we make will be temporary, as I intend to return Kylos as soon as I have subjugated Tyrosh Landing and made peace with the Archon."
The two men nodded.
"I am facing something of a dilemma," I explained. "At Zarnosh I detached one of my sellsword companies and placed their commander in charge of the local garrison. I could do that here; however, that would dilute the core of my army further than I am comfortable with. The same problem would arise if I were to detach either my Pentoshi companies or a segment of my Westerosi." Sometime in the future, I would likely campaign with an army made up primarily of Westerosi expatriates and Tyroshi freedmen, but for now, I would prefer to maintain the integrity of the army I had thrown together in Myr. The infusion of men from Zarnosh had already caused enough trouble, and a similar action here at Kylos would tip the balance of camp politics in wildly unpredictable ways. The releasing of the slave soldiers to serve my cause had been somewhat spur of the moments, and while I didn't regret the forces that it had brought to my banner, it had created complications. In truth, this entire seizure of the coast had been rather slapdash, which I supposed marked me as a true descendant of Aegon the Conqueror.
"With that in mind, I will leave Kylos purely and the hands of the two of you if you both swear loyalty to me here and now."
Uncertain looks passed over the faces of both men.
"For the time being, I clarified. You would swear to hold Kylos in my name for the duration of the campaign. After which, as I said, I will return to the city, as I intend to make it my headquarters for the foreseeable future while I prepare to take back my father's kingdom."
They both relaxed Stassan was a sellsword with little desire to permanently bind himself to a foreign adventurer, and Baran was still trying to find his footing in a world where he had agency.
Stassan nodded, "I am willing to enter your employment."
"As am I" Baran echoed.
"Exellent," I said. "Stassan, I am appointing you commander of the garrison. Baran, you will serve as his second. The local magisters shall continue to run the city, but should they appear to be acting against my interests, you have my permission the intervene." Stassan was the natural choice to lead the garrison as he was both experienced in organizing large bodies of men and had the local connections to smooth over any local difficulties. Besides offering him the role was expected as he was the one who had engineered the peaceful surrender of Kylos. As the son of a concubine, Stassan had little chance of entering the ranks of the local elite of Kyros, so instead he had left and joined a Free Company, which was considered a mildly disreputable but not scandalous career. The company he had been serving with had been contracted to Tyrosh in preparation for conflict with Pentos, only to promptly break that contract and flee east when news of the slaughter at Sebal had reached them. Stassan had opted to part ways with his comrades and return to his hometown, where he had convinced them to let him raise an Indentured Company when news arrived that I had departed south from Myr. However, at my approach, he had launched what could only be termed a soft coup and gently suggested to the City Council that they open the gates. Between the armed men at his back and the approaching dragon, his opinion had been taken seriously. So as a reward, he got to serve as not quite governor.
"Thank my Prince," Stassan responded.
"And just to be sure, your men will not have any trouble serving alongside freedmen?" I asked Stassen.
He frowned. "They might." He admitted. "I recruited heavily from the poorer districts. For the men living there, the fact that they were not slaves is the only thing that they could take any sort of solace in. And it doesn't help that the magisters like to use the slave soldiers, apologies, former slave soldiers to suppress riots."
That made sense, I supposed, keep the urban poor angry at the armed slaves rather than have to two realize that their natural enemy was the magisters.
"But, I was able to pull in enough men with soldering experience to keep most of the potential troublemakers in line," he hastened to reassure me.
"See to it that they do," I said. "I would be displeased if I returned to find your men brawling with Baran's in the street."
I turned to Baran. "And you, do I need to worry any of your men fomenting a servile insurrection with their newfound freedom?" I asked, invoking the specter that haunted the minds of most freeborn in western Essos. I had had a similar conversation in Zarnosh, and the question felt just as dirty to ask now as it did then, as both my present and past self approved of the idea of a mass slave revolt, but I could not afford for my staging ground to be in flames while I planned my conquest of the Stepstones. The grim truth was that for all that the Westrosi and Braavosi professed a horror of the practice, they had spent centuries in business with those who profited from the labor and sale of slaves; you could not do business in the Narrow Sea and avoid it. Most simply tacitly accepted and told themselves that they were morally superior, as they did not personally own a human and hailed from a realm that forbade it. I was well aware that I was simply the latest in a long line to hold fast to that self-delusion.
"No, Prince Aelyx, some of them will and already have used their new freedom to pressure people into granting manumission to family and lovers," he paused, "but the Ghibuzardi have always stood separate from those who serve in households, or labor in the fields." He finished with a sneer.
Slave classism, I thought with amusement.
"Very well," I said, clapping my hands together. "Now, do you think that the two of you can work together?"
"Of course, my Prince." "Yes, Magister." Came two instant rejoinders
For all I knew, the two men would be scheming to murder the other the moment they stepped out of my commandeered solar, but for now, they were united in their desire to appease me and maintain their newfound power.
"Some time in the next few days, there will be a public ceremony where I will invest you with the protection of the city, and you will, in turn, swear to hold it for me until I return, and before that, we will work out the exact details of pay rates, but until then your word will suffice."
"You have it, my Prince, I shall serve you," said Stassan.
"You have my word as well, Prince Aelyx." Baran
"Then you are dismissed. Rupert will contact you tomorrow so that you can meet to work out the finer details of the handover of the city between our men and yours."
The slave soldiers had been confined to quarters since the magisters had decided against fighting it out when Stassan and his allies had launched their coup. While Stassan's men had been similarly confined, since my army had marched into the city and installed itself as a temporary garrison.
The two men bowed and departed from my solar. As they left, I leaned back in my chair and sighed. My entanglement on the mainland was becoming increasingly complicated. The rapid collapse of the Triarchy and the reduction of Myr to a puppet of Pentos had massively destabilized the region, and the damage I was doing to Tyrosh would only invite more chaos. Even if I were to simply load my army onto a fleet tomorrow and invade the Stepstones, the impact of my actions would likely affect the region for decades if not centuries. On the other hand, I thought if I was creating a power vacuum, there was nothing that said I could not be the one to fill it. I had told Pentos that I would not establish a permanent presence on the mainland, but they had also told me that they had no intention of capturing Myr.
A/N Hi, I am still alive, and I apologize for the massive delay in this chapter.Aelyx - 33
For three months, my army had stormed down the Tyroshi coastline. I had placed garrisons in the small cities of Zarnosh and Kylos, while drawing the nominal submission of a dozen other smaller towns. And now I was a mere two days' march from Tyrosh Landing. The city was half a mainland suburb of Free City and half a grain depot, where agricultural produce from the interior could be collected before it was shipped across the channel to Tryosh.
"They can't afford to let it fall easily," I murmured, thinking aloud.
"No, they cannot," Jaqys Fyllen answered.
I glanced over at the commander of the small fleet Pentos had detached to shadow my march from the sea.
He shrugged. "It is clear you were talking about the Landing."
I grimaced in acknowledgment before holding my cup out, signaling for more wine. The tavernkeeper rushed over and filled my cup as well as those of the various men scattered around the room. I took a long draught; the wine was mediocre, which is about what you would expect from a worn, albeit lovingly maintained, tavern in a small fishing village. It was only its location near Tyrosh and a convenient bay large enough to house the small squadron of warships and cargo transports that had led to the backwater being chosen to host an army.
"Kylos and Zarnosh both surrendered without a fight. Why would the Landing be any different?" asked Jaremy.
"It's too vital for them," Bracho Nesteris answered him. "The Tyroshi can't allow an enemy to hold the Landing," the commander of the Gyrfalcons continued. "Too much of their food passes through it, losing it wouldn't be instantly fatal or stave them; they still have plenty of ports down south that they can rely on for grain shipments, but they would feel the pinch. Beyond even that, holding the port would allow us to conduct offensive operations with impunity. It would be a naked blade held to the throat of the entire city."
"Can we take it though?" asked Jaremy, now looking mildly concerned.
"Oh yes," I quickly responded. "We don't have the naval forces to truly besiege the place, but with Vhagar we have plenty of men to take the city by storm if it comes down to that. The real problem, though, is Tyrosh itself."
"Nothing can really threaten us so long as the prince and Vhagar remain with us, but we have fairly limited means to actually menace the island." Rupert picked up where I trailed off.
"I mean, I could always threaten to burn it down as I did with Myr, but that is a threat that I can only make so many times before I have to do something horrific to convince people that I would actually follow through." I continued.
"Tyrosh not being reduced to a smoldering ruin would be preferable," Fyllen said, looking disturbed at the prospect. The sacking of towns and destruction of villages was common amongst the endemic warfare that plagued the Free Cities, but destroying one of the Nine Cities, which would mean the death of hundreds of thousands of people, would be considered far beyond the pale.
"It is better all-around that we simply force them into a position where they have to come to the table."
"Do you think they will?" asked Jaremy. "If they are willing to gamble on Prince Aelyx not burning the city, they have to know that even if we take the Landing, we lack the forces to seize Tyrosh by force.
"They cannot afford to let us keep rampaging through their hinterlands," Nesteris said
"And if they don't, we can take the army south and snap up the rest of their coastal settlements," I added. "Let us see how long they can last when their grain shipments are completely cut off. There is no need to blockade the city if we take every port that will ship to it."
That particular strategy was inspired by Alexander the Great's march down the Levantine coast. Rather than attempting to confront the massive Persian navy with his own weaker force, he had simply taken every port the Achaemenids had in the Mediterranean.
I grinned, sharp and savage. "Occupying Tyrosh might not be an option, but if they refuse to kneel when we knock on their door, we can bleed them so white that the mob will tear apart the Archon and Magisters if they continue to resist."
"Hear, hear," Rupert raised his cup in a toast, which was quickly echoed by the rest of the tavern. As soon as the cups were empty, the tavern keeper and his sons rushed back out to refill them. I made a mental note to leave behind a significant sum for the man, both as payment for the wine and food and as an apology for the inherent terror that came with having a large number of foreign armed men taking over your village and drunkenly carousing around your family. I was fairly certain that the taverner's wife and daughter were both cowering upstairs, and I had given strict orders that no one beyond the men necessary to secure the village should enter it. So far, this campaign has been conducted with restraint, and while I was well aware that incidents had undoubtedly occurred on the peripheries of my army's march, I had no intention of unleashing carnage on the people that I intended to nominally rule over for the next two years, at minimum.
As we got drunker, the conversation wandered, leaving military matters behind. One moment, Rupert was extolling the virtues of Crackclaw Point, claiming that each family was king of their own family and had been for millennia before my family arrived. The next, Fyllen was telling a story of a confusing three-way naval battle between Penots, Triarchy-backed pirates, and some of my father's old sellswords fought off the coast of Hell's Rock shortly after Corly's final abandonment of the Stepstones. After that Jaremy began making grandiose promises to the sellswords and Pentoshi officers, stating that should they visit Westeros, he would be happy to visit them in Duskendale. I was decently sure that Jaremy had no authority to make those kinds of promises, considering how far down the line of succession he was.
The impromptu drinking party raged long into the night as the wine, cider, and pear brandy flowed freely.
I woke up the following morning to someone gently shaking me. I blinked up at the visage of Rupert even as my mind registered the pounding drum of a hangover headache and the aches that came from spending the night sprawled on a wooden floor. I looked past the stabbing pain of the sun's rays and saw that Rupert was badly disheveled, his clothes were oddly askew, his hair a mess, and his eyes bloodshot.
"You look like crap," I told him.
The sharp raise of his eyebrow and the quick sweep of his gaze over me indicated that I had indulged in some rank hypocrisy with that statement.
He pressed a wooden cup into my hands. "This will make you feel better, my prince."
I stared down dubiously at the concoction. "What is it?"
"A raw egg, some pear brandy, and a dash of pepper sauce," he told me. "Nesteris swears by it," he added upon seeing my revolted expression. "And this place doesn't have the proper ingredients to mix what we use back home."
I held back a snort. Mixing a hangover cure was probably the only time it was socially acceptable for a Westrosi noble to engage in 'servants' work.
I grimaced and downed the mixture. I was as revolting as it looked, despite my best efforts to drink it fast enough that the taste didn't linger on my tongue. I was unsure if it truly worked, or if the disgusting nature of the drink distracted my senses and tricked me into thinking that it had, but after a few moments, the drummer in my head seemed to subside. Rupert stood and offered a hand, pulling me to my feet. We then joined the few other members of the party who were already up and about, in awaking those who were still passed out on the ground. We were far less gentle in awaking them than Rupert had been to me, and boots were liberally applied to ribs before cups of, what Nesteris would inform me were called Golden Fields Oysters, were pressed into their hands.
It would not be until several hours after dawn that the group finally began moving as we stumbled out of the tavern. I dropped three golden ships on a table on the way out, grossly overpaying. In the street of the fishing village, we were joined by the shift of soldiers who had relieved those who had escorted us the previous night. Half of us turned south to return to the army camp, while the other half made their way to the shoreline and the landing craft that were waiting to carry them back to their shift. It had, I felt, been a productive meeting.Aelyx - 34
"Dracarys," I snarled as I plunged down upon the five riders. Flames boiled from Vhagar's maw and surged across the wheatfield, washing over the desperately galloping riders. They barely had a moment to scream before they and their horses were charred beyond all recognition. A grim smile twitched across my lips as I directed Vhagar to return to the sky, and she responded with great wingbeats that sent us soaring upwards.
From the air, I could just make out a dot of Tyrosh Landing on the horizon. We were three days into our two-day march, and at the rate the army was moving, it would be another two or three days before we reached the walls of the city. I fought down the bubbling frustration that told me to fly to the city and unleash Vhagar upon them just as I had done to the army at Sebal and my several times great-grandfather had done at Harrenhal. I couldn't do it, beyond it being a moral line that I was hesitant to cross, the Landing was too strategically important to destroy, and the Tyroshi damned well knew it. The relatively restrained behavior of my forces in Myr and along the coastal watch had ironically emboldened them.
The attacks had begun three days ago as the army marched away from the fishing village where I had passed an enjoyable night with my officers. Had I known how little sleep I would get the following nights, I probably wouldn't have drunk so late into the night. The attacks themselves were mere pinpricks, a sharp skirmish with our outriders here, a shower of arrows launched at our rear guard there. Only a handful of men had been killed, but the pace of the column had slowed to a crawl, and frustration had begun to seep through the ranks. The Tyroshi had adopted the same hit-and-run tactics that had served the Triarchy's privateers so well in their war against my father and the Velaryons. The men had not seen anything resembling a challenge since Sebal and had grown confident with the ease of their victories.
This was the fourth such party I had destroyed today, and I knew that there were many more spread out across the landscape below. Unfortunately, the countryside was also crowded with refugees. I had made many dives over the past several hours that accomplished nothing more than terrifying the people on the ground. What I could not figure out for the life of me was what the endgame of the attacks was. Sure, they were slowing the army down, but all it would do was make us angrier by the time that we reached Tyrosh Landing, and an angry army and a sackable city made for a poor combination.
I glanced up and checked the position of the sun. It was midafternoon. I banked to the right, flying west towards the coastline. The tracks of several of the parties that had attacked yesterday indicated that they had come from the sea, and several of the army's commanders had speculated that they were operating in smaller boats launched from the Landing or Tyrosh itself, and operating in the various coves that dotted the shoreline. Hopefully, I would be able to spot a few and burn them. As I reached the shore, I hesitated for a moment about which direction to travel before deciding to resume my previous progress south. Perhaps I mused, I could overfly The Landing and incite a bit of terror there.
Even as the thought crossed my mind, I noticed something in the water. Or rather, a lot of something. Far out into the Narrow Sea, there were dozens of small black dots. I had seen ships in the distance often enough to know exactly what those were.
"Come on, girl," I said, steering Vhagar farther out to sea to investigate.
As I approached, it became increasingly clear that I had come upon a collection of warships. This was the Tyroshi fleet. The real question was what they were doing out here. I could think of three possibilities. The first was that this was a precautionary measure to prevent me from flying into the harbor at Tyrosh and burning them at anchor. It was, after all, nearly impossible to track a fleet once it put out to sea. Even from dragon back. The second was that they intended to destroy Jaqys's squadron. The number of ships I could see below me would make short work of his small force, and indeed it was that danger that had led me to order him to hold back during the final press to the landing rather than shadow the army's march closely as he had done since we departed Myr. The third possibility, and the one that I put the most stock in, was that the fleet was stuffed full of troops on top of the usual contingent of sailors and marines. If they were able to land a large body of troops on the coast in the night and advance rapidly towards our camp and take us by surprise in the dark or early dawn, while I was still on the ground, they would stand a chance at routing the army. That was the point of the guerrilla attacks; I realized they were trying to slow us down while this expedition was thrown together. Once we were entrenched around Tyrosh Landing, such a surprise attack would rise exponentially in difficulty. I shuddered thinking of the potential consequences if the fleet had arrived during the drinking party a few nights ago, when we had all assumed that the Tyroshi were cowering behind their walls.
Briefly, I considered turning and flying back to the army and working with my officers to come up with a coordinated response to this new threat. I snorted. I was a dragon rider, and the enemy was before me; what else was there?
A snapped order and touch of the reins, and Vhagar began diving towards a ship on the outer edge of the formation. I felt the familiar swooping feeling in my stomach that came with plunging through the air. I had been here before, both at Sebal and a decade before, when my father had placed me before him on Caraxes and took me into battle to show me how war was waged. I had seen those burning ships and men in my dreams for months.
I snapped from my reminiscences as we approached the first ship. I was close enough now to see the panicking men aboard the wooden vessel. A distant part of me noted that the ship was far too crowded.
Another touch of the reins saw Vhagar banking away, avoiding a collision with the ship and water.
"Dracarys," I snapped, and fire spewed from my lady's maw, racing over the water and consuming the ship. Within moments, it was consumed entirely by flames. Those lucky enough not to be instantly reduced to ash flung themselves into the water in a desperate attempt to escape the blaze. I continued onward. The fleet was spread out for travel rather than bunched together in a tight battle formation. I came upon the next ship. They had received enough warning that they could attempt to mount a defense. I saw several men carrying bows rushing to intercept my angle of approach. They were too slow and burned just as easily as the first ship. I now ordered Vhagar back up into the sky, we were chased by a few desperate arrows from nearby ships.
We circled high above the panicking fleet as I picked out my next targets. I saw a trio of ships bunched together and gave the order to plunge.
"Dracerys," I called. The three vessels were close enough together that I only needed to give the order once to play Vhagar's fire across all of them. This time, I could hear the screams of terror and anguish as the flames consumed dozens.
I rose and dove once again. Two more ships were reduced to balls of fire bobbing in the Narrow Sea. As I rose for the third time, I could see that the Tyroshi fleet was clearly panicking. Whatever plan they'd had in the event of my arrival was clearly falling apart in the face of a dragon attack.
At Sebal, I had been half out of my mind with pain. But, here, now, with the panicking armada below me, I could see why my father loved war and why he claimed that Targaryens were closer to gods than men. There was something utterly intoxicating about the power a dragon rider could wield.
A examined the sea and picked out a ship on the outer edges of the formation. The ship had already managed to execute a turn and was fleeing.
"Well, that just won't do," I murmured, before sending Vhagar spiraling down after them. I came upon them from behind and burned the galley from stern to bow. Then, for good measure, I pulled Vhagar around in a near full turn and burned the ship trailing behind the first, before rising back into the air.
As the sun sank lower in the sky, I continued to harry the Tyroshi fleet. Any thoughts of keeping together had vanished as the captains had realized that I was targeting any groups of ships, which had led to them scrambling to put distance between themselves and their allies, even as they tried to escape me. At least five of the ships had chosen to flee towards the shore and ground themselves, with the crews and accompanying soldiers escaping inland. The smarter ones had sailed due west, putting the sun in my eyes and making it harder to spot them. As dusk began to fall, I ended my pursuit and began flying back towards the land. I hoped that I had not drifted far enough that I would make finding the army difficult. Behind me, the Narrow Sea was lit with an orange glow as fifty bonfires now decorated the Tyrosh's waters.