Aelyx - 35
"You did what?" asked Rupert flatly, staring at me.
"Burned Tyrosh's fleet," I repeated. "I think that they were going to try and land an army on our flank and take us by surprise, probably at night." I speculated in the stunned silence of the command tent. "I probably burned fifty ships, a little more than half the fleet," I continued. "The rest of the fleet managed to scatter and escape, and I didn't want to risk getting lost in the dark."
The men around me stared in a mixture of awe and fear. I basked in it. It was good to occasionally remind my men that I was a dragon rider, a descendant of Aegon the Conqueror, and an inheritor of the legacy of the Valyrian Freehold.
"Fifty ships," Corwyn murmured, his face white. The Corbray was the only one of my officers who had not been at Sebal, and he was obviously shocked by the scale of destruction that a dragon rider was capable of unleashing. I supposed that it was one thing to know that Aegon and his sisters had burned an army at the Field of Fire, but quite another to realize that you were standing across from someone who had just killed the population of a medium-sized town.
"Yes, fifty or so ships," I confirmed. "Now," I said, clapping my hands together. "I believe that should be the end of our issues with skirmishers. I doubt they will continue to antagonize us after a loss like that."
And I was indeed correct. The following day, the army marched three times the distance it had over the previous three days. There were a few small attacks, but the continuous stinging raids and ambushes that we had previously dealt with were almost entirely absent. By midafternoon, we had sighted the walls of Tyrosh Landing.
I landed Vhagar on a hill half a mile away from the city as the army spread out on the plains below. I frowned down at the outskirts of the city. From the air, I had already seen that all the buildings outside the walls had been leveled, and now it was clear that all the trees and bushes had been cut down. I swore softly, while it had probably been done before my attack on the fleet, all the signs pointed towards the Landing preparing for a siege. I would need to send out word to the men to avoid drinking from any nearby wells. Bringing in water would be a pain, but it was better than having a third of the army going down from fouled water.
Even as that thought crossed my mind, I realized that a plume of smoke had begun drifting up from the city. I hurried back over to Vhagar and scrambled up her side to reach her saddle. I pulled my fareye out of its pouch before sliding back down. I raised the instrument to my eyes and peered through it. In the time it had taken me to retrieve the fareye, the wisps of smoke that I had become several towering columns. I tried to see where in the city the fires were concentrated, but there appeared to be no discernible pattern.
I watched for the next half an hour as the fires raged through the city. A distant part of me worried that the whole city would burn down and I would somehow be blamed for it. It would, after all, be hard to convince people that the dragon rider had nothing to do with the raging inferno that appeared when he had arrived. While I waited, I was joined by several of my officers along with their guards. We talked among ourselves, debating what could have caused the fires. Quickly, a common consensus had developed that Tyrosh Landing was likely experiencing the same type of internal violence Myr had when we arrived before its walls.
"We can not do anything but wait and see how it all shakes out," I commented eventually to general agreement. "As of now, there probably isn't anyone who even can negotiate a surrender with us." Even as the words passed my lips, Corbray gave an exclamation of surprise.
"Look at the eastern gate," he all but shouted.
I raised my fareye and trained it on the city walls. Sure enough, the gate had swung open and a group of a dozen riders issued out, followed by twice as many men on foot. I spun around, looking at the men arrayed around me.
"Well, don't just stand there, this is our chance to take the city." So saying, I hurried to the horses and swung myself onto my mount. I cast a glance up at Vhagar, who was resting contentedly on the ridge. "Sorry, girl, but I don't think that this is a job for a dragon."
I galloped down the hill, followed by a ragged column of men. As I approached the camp, I could see that those who had fled the city had halted outside the camp and were milling around. A line of soldiers had been drawn up to face them; it was likely only the small numbers of Tyroshi and the general confusion of the situation that had prevented my crossbowmen from loosing shafts into the midst of the intruders.
I picked carefully through the camp, weaving Prancer through a collection of half-erected tents and confused men. I arrived in front of the camp, where, by that point, nearly a thousand men had been drawn up. My Westerosi were in the center, forming into a solid black of halberdiers. The indentured companies, Pentoshi and freedmen alike, wielding spears and large round shields, were strung out on either wing, mixed together with groups of archers and crossbowmen. It took several minutes of shouting and cursing to open up a gap in the line wide enough for me and my companions to ride through.
I trotted about a dozen feet in front of the line and then stopped. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shouted. "Who goes there?"
Several of the Tyroshi began to cautiously move forward until they were around twenty feet from me. It was then that I realized that several of the riders and walkers were women, and that many of them were carrying children or leading children.
"I am Stallar Volimos, Magister of Tyroshi Landing, and I would request sanctuary for myself and my household.
I blinked. "Explain."
"After Prince Aelyx destroyed the fleet, the city fell into chaos. The Archon ordered the city to resist and bleed the prince's army badly enough that he wouldn't be able to launch an attack against Tyrosh itself. But many of the city's residents, myself included, wanted to surrender. I don't know how it started, but fighting broke out between the Archon's personal forces and residents. Next thing I knew, riots were breaking out all over the city and the Archon's men were attacking the manse of any magister who wanted to surrender." He paused. "I think that they are trying to fire the city and then retreat back to Tyrosh. I gathered my family and cut my way through the streets before falling on the men guarding the Eastern Gate."
I looked over his shoulder at the still-open gates. "Do you still hold the gate?"
"Yes, my retainers have barricaded themselves inside the gatehouse. I do not know how much of my wealth will survive the coming storm, and I thought it was better to come to the prince with something to offer rather than as a beggar."
I smirked. "Well, a way into the city is quite the gift. Very well, on my honor as a dragon rider of House Targaryen, I, Prince Aelyx Targaryen, place Magister Stallar Volimos of Tyrosh Landing and his household under my protection."
"Thank you, my Prince." The magister stuttered with wide eyes, the revelation of my identity draining the color from his already pale skin.
I twisted in the saddle. "Let them through," I called to the massed ranks. I then looked over at the officers who had followed me out. "Rupert, take the men already assembled and storm the gate. Reinforce Volimos's men, and clear the walls above them. Bracho rally, the rest of the army, and push in after him. I will join you as soon as I get my armor on."
With the instructions given, I turned and cantered back through the ranks. Luckily, I had instituted a standard camp layout, so I found my tent with ease. I dismounted, tossing the reins to a nearby soldier and ordering another to bring up my destrier, and hurried in.
"I need my armor," I ordered the two waiting servants. They scrambled to comply, pulling open several chests stacked in the corner as I stripped off my riding leathers. I really needed to get a proper page and squire, I thought irritably. I snatched the drawn drawers out of one of their hands and put them on before raising my arms as the other slid first the linen shirt and then the gambeson over them. They began fixing the pieces of the plate on. It took them several minutes to finish, but I was finally armored with the two buckling on my sword belt as the final piece of attire.
I strode outside, where my destrier was waiting. I was pleased to see someone had affixed my hand axe to my saddle. It took two men to boost me into my saddle, and someone passed me my helmet. I slid it on and closed the face plate before accepting the shield. I waved off the proffered lance and spurred Havoc forward towards the battle.
Aelyx - 36
As I rode through the camp, a half dozen riders fell in behind me. I could tell at a glance that they were Westrosi, knights and men-at-arms from the Crownlands and Vale, who had joined either my initial mustering or Corwyn's reinforcements. A further twenty riders were waiting at the edge of camp, Essosi wearing armor that would likely lead future historians to dub them medium cavalry. I reigned to stop in front of them.
"Where are the rest of you?"
"Still preparing," he told me.
I glanced back and saw that another handful of Westrosi riders had joined the group, bringing our numbers up to roughly twenty.
"Alright, I am going to join the infantry, I am bringing the men behind me as my personal guard. I want you to stay here until you get up to around fifty men, then move towards the gate and wait for further orders. Mounted men aren't going to be very useful in the brawl at the gate."
"Understood, Prince Aelyx."
I nodded sharply and spurred Havoc back into motion. I led the men across the flatlands and onto the road that led into the city. As we approached the gate, we passed through the burnt-out remains of the suburbs. We rode through the gate into the city, and I saw that there were several bodies piled by the guardhouse, along with a makeshift barricade forming a half crescent. The main body of my men was directly ahead of us, forming a solid block of crossbowmen and halberdiers across the central road. The spearmen from the indentured companies and sellswords were waiting behind them or had spread into the side streets, moving in smaller groups. I stood in my stirrups to look over my men, and it became apparent that there was little in the form of organized resistance. There was a milling crowd of armed men in front of the Westrosi, but they were not doing anything more than launching the occasional missile. In the side streets, the spearmen were trading blows with disorganized knots of combatants. Clashing weapons sounded sporadically from the side streets, but it was obvious that no one had been able to organize anything like a coordinated response to our assault.
I swung off Havoc, my armor clanking as I hit the ground. The men behind me followed my lead. This was the kind of fight where being on horseback wouldn't do anything but make you a target. I advanced towards the rear of the formation, where Rupert and Artys were waiting for me.
"My Prince," Rupert said, offering a half salute with his sword. "We have secured the gateway and the sections of the wall surrounding it." He turned and beckoned over another man, armored in the style of a Tyroshi household retainer. "This is Illeqor Mopis. He is the head of the guard for the Volimos family."
"Prince Aelyx," Mopis began, "I thank you for the assistance that you have agreed to render. I will serve as a guide for you and your men through the city. I only ask that you send men to preserve Magister Volimos's manse and other properties."
I gave a sharp nod, "We will advance towards the city center, once we have captured the main square and the council chambers, I will detach a body of men to secure it. It is the least that I can do given the gift that he has given me.
The man looked conflicted for a moment, it was obvious that he wanted us to rush to defend the Volimos manse. But there was no point in invading the city if we ended up penned up in some random corner.
"Very well," he acquiesced with a sigh. The city is laid out along the standard Valyrian grid design. The road from each of the major gates will lead directly to the center, so we just need to keep moving forward, and we will reach it." He paused, "The council chambers do have their own fortifications, though."
"We will cross that bridge when we reach it," I said, shrugging as much as I was able in full plate. "Now, explain exactly who we are fighting."
"The men loyal to the Archon and Tyrosh proper have seized control of the docks and the council chambers and are operating from there. They have been trying to seize control of the city, but have been fighting with the mob and the personal forces of the magisters who belong to the provincialist faction."
The politics of each of the Free Cities was dominated by the factions of the city itself. Within the outlying towns, the politics tended to be dominated by the provincialists, who pushed for local autonomy, and the urbanists, who cleaved to the mother city.
"Alright, and who are they?" I gestured vaguely at men skirmishing with my Westrosi.
"Those are retinues belonging to several urbanist families; several of them threw their lot in with the General Naerer when he tried to seize control of the city. I think they saw it as an opportunity to settle old scores, which apparently took a greater precedence than the army and dragon knocking at the gate. The men in the side streets are part of the mob who were rioting just a few moments ago."
I raised my eyebrows. "The two are working together. I would have thought the mobs would be fighting the urbanists."
"Rioters don't tend to be particularly discriminant, and a body of foreign troops in your home would get anyone's blood up." Mopis cut himself off sharply at the end of the sentence, pressing his lips together tightly. I sent him a searching look, but he refused to say more.
"Alright, then we currently have a thousand or so men in the city. We will leave two hundred to hold the gate, and the rest will advance towards the city center."
At my command, Rupert turned and began issuing orders. The newcomers, who had trickled in after my arrival, were instructed to man and reinforce the barricade, while those already engaged in a delusory conflict with the mob were left as a screening force with instructions to fall back to the barricade if they came under attack by an organized body. As for the rest of us, at the sound of a horn, we advanced.
The road was twenty-five feet wide. That had forced my men to narrow from their typical block into a column sixteen men wide. They moved forward as one, the front ranks lowering their halberds, their boots echoing on the cobblestone. In contrast, the men before them fell into a panic as they realized contact was imminent and fell into a ragged line held together more by the weight of men and the confines of the street than any discipline. Or at least that it what it looked like from the back of the column where I had taken my place. I was at the back of the Westrosi contingent and at the front of the Essosi one. Part of me wanted to climb back on Havoc so that I could view the whole action, but my common sense told me that doing such would only make me a target amidst the urban fighting. Pyrrhus of Epirus, one of the greatest generals of the Classical Age, had been killed by a thrown roof tile while fighting through the streets of a city, and I had no desire to share such an ignominious fate.
The crossbows continued to twang as my men made high-arcing shots over their comrades that landed amongst the mass of enemy. Then the horn sounded again. The men reacted with the alacrity that came from moons of long and grueling practice. They surged forward, charging the final few meters between them and the enemy. Even at the back of the column, I could feel the shudder of the impact. Looking forward, I could just make out the Tyroshi lines collapse in the face of the charge. The men in the front were bowled over, spitted on the halberds, and then trampled beneath the feet of the charging men. The column slowed but did not stop. The advance became a steady progression forward, a steady butchery. In this close press, we would not be able to cycle men forward, and the brunt of the fighting fell on the twelve men in the first rank. I would have to ensure that they received a bonus.
The progress of the battle ahead could only be tracked by the shouts and screams, along with the fact that we were still moving forward. I couldn't tell if it had been three minutes or thirty, but eventually the sounds of fighting ahead began to fade, and a cheer rose up from the front ranks and was quickly taken up by those in the back. The word raced down the column. The enemy had turned tail and run.
I took advantage of the stop to edge around the column and make my way to the front, squeezing between the right flank and the buildings that lined the road. I was followed by my bodyguards. A few ranks up from the back, I began to see signs of the battle. Bodies were strewn across the road, fallen between the ranks of my men, while pools of blood were slowly spreading across the stones. Most of them were the enemy, but I saw several of mine amidst the carnage.
When I reached to front, I found the serjent who held command. "I will be leading the push towards the town center."
"Of course, my Prince," he rapped his fist against his breast in a salute.
I turned forward, sword on my hip, shield in my left hand, war pick in my right. I reached up, slammed my visor closed, and began the advance.
A/N - I promise Aelyx will see direct combat next chapter, but in this fight, he was at the back of the formation, so he could barely even see anything.
Aelyx – 37
The column began a slow but steady advance down the street. The few groups of rioters that we encountered swiftly dispersed in the face of a large body of disciplined men. As we approached the city center, I began to be able to make out the administrative palace. While it was nowhere near the size of its counterparts in the cities proper, it was still several stories of stone and would have been considered a respectable castle back in Westeros. While the building was not truly constructed to resist a determined siege, I could already see how it could be easily fortified. And that was before taking into account the eight-foot wall that surrounded the entire complex, which came into view as we spilled into the main square.
After a few steps into the plaza, I froze as several men popped up from behind the wall. They sent a ragged volley of crossbow bolts across the empty space. I huddled behind my shield as one of the bolts thudded uselessly against it, while the rest pinged off the shields or armor of knights that made up the front ranks of the column. I frowned, glancing around, trying to decide what to do next, only to be thrown forward when the weight of the column shoved the man behind me forward into my back. I stumbled forward before righting myself after a few steps. I raised my war pick into the air, in a signal to the column.
"Hold!" I called. I turned to my right, keeping my shield between the crossbowmen and me. Looking back at the leading serjant, I ordered, "Pass the word down, I want the men with shields at the front of the column. The man twisted his head back and shouted the order down the line. The column contorted oddly as the spearmen in the rear began to push their way through the ranks. All the while, the defenders continued to pepper the front of the formation. Luckily, my knights and I formed a fairly impenetrable wall of steel, and the few bolts that slipped through pinged off helmets or failed to penetrate the men's gambesons.
The spearmen poured into the square and formed a crescent around the entrance to the street, allowing the rest of the column to push in. Soon, our archers and crossbowmen were answering the bolts from the wall with their own projectiles. After several of the defenders collapsed with a bolt or arrow through the head or torso, the barrages from the walls became much more delusory. I grimaced; the waning rain of bolts didn't matter so long as we couldn't get up and over the walls. We needed to stabilize this position, then either compel the defenders to surrender or storm the complex across from us. Even as the thought crossed my mind, a voice called from behind me.
"Make way!"
I turned to see Rupert hurrying forward, leading a body of soldiers pushing two wagon carts. Rupert directed them into the square before looking over at me.
"A barricade, your grace!"
"Carry on," I replied.
He gave a sharp nod and had his men push the wagons forward until they reached the line of spearmen. When they reached the line, the spearmen scattered out of the way as the two wagons were flipped onto their sides, lying end to end and creating a short wall.
I turned to the men around me. "Marik and Petyr take your men and go back into the city and find any wagons that you can and pull them up. Don't go too far and don't risk getting into a brawl with the mob. Arthur and Morgan, I want you to raid the building around us and pull out any large pieces of furniture that you can. If I find out that you or any of your men stopped to loot, there will be hell to pay. You will have plenty of time for that once this is all over."
"Yes, your grace."
It took between a quarter and a half turn of the hourglass, but the barricade was built, and the entire force was sheltered behind it. By my count, we had lost four killed and had a dozen or so injured. The enemy bolts had ceased flying when the barricade was completed. I presumed that the enemy commander had ordered him men to stop wasting ammunition, and to hoard it for when we actually rushed the walls.
"Alright," I said to Rupert. "Have the men start constructing ladders from whatever they can find in these buildings. They don't have to be well-made, they just need to get us up and over the wall."
"That might not be necessary," he responded, gesturing to the wall where the defenders were waving a white banner.
"Get started on them anyway," I told him, before stepping forward to the edge of the barricade. I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted.
"Are you surrendering?"
"No!" Came the answering shout. "We are offering you the chance to withdraw from the city before our allies restore order to the streets and leave you surrounded."
"I thank you for your consideration for my health, but I am not interested in negotiations unless you are willing to surrender."
The white cloth vanished back behind the wall, and the Tyroshi defenders hurled jeers and insults at me.
With that, the two sides settled in to wait. The monotony was broken only by the occasional potshot taken by archers from either the barricade of the wall.
When the first tinges of dusk were beginning to creep across the sky, Rupert returned to my side.
"The ladders are ready."
He offered me a hand and hauled me to my feet from where I had been seated against an overturned wagon. We made our way to the street where the ladders had been constructed, out of sight of the defenders. They were crude things, long beams of wood with cross pieces lashed to them. But they would do the job, or at least I hoped they would.
"There isn't really any way to hide carrying these across the square, so our best opportunity is to just rush the wall. Artys get the archers ready. I want them to keep the Tyroshi's heads down as we cross the open space. Lyselos, grab some men and have them shove open gaps in the wagons as soon as we begin our charge
I hesitated, staring at the primitive ladders. "I don't think those will hold men in plate, so Rupert, I want you to organize the Westrosi and the indentured into groups, thirty per ladder. Their job is to get onto the wall and open the gate. The moment that happens, I will lead the charge through. The men who lift the bar and swing the gate open. Will be well rewarded"
Artys and Rupert both hurried off to organize their respective commands. While I began to gather the knights and men-at-arms in a solid block around me. Within twenty minutes, we were ready.
I bashed my war pick against my shield. "Now! For Glory!"
Five groups of four men, each carrying a ladder, dashed out from the protection of the side street. As soon as they came into view, the men behind the barricade sprang into motion, straining to push and pull the wagons out of the way to create gaps. The defender atop the wall sprang up their shouts of alarm, carrying across the square. They were met with a shower of missiles, and a half dozen fell back wounded or dead. As soon as the ladder bearers crossed the line of the barricade, they were joined by dozens more men, who streamed out from the cover of the wagons.
Despite the cover from Artys's archers, bolts plunged into the advancing men, causing several to drop. One of the ladder carriers was hit, and another man surged forward to take his place. All five ladders reached the wall and were firmly planted. The men began to swarm up, shouting 'Prince Aelyx!', 'Pentos!' and other war cries. The defenders tried to throw them back, but the men at the bottom of the ladders kept them firmly planted against the ground.
A loud crack echoed through the open space as one of the ladders splintered and snapped under the weight of the soldiers. I was relieved to see those who fell get up and limp away, going to join the line for the rest of the ladders. I began to lead my group of knights forward, coming to a stop at the wagon line opposite the gate. On three of the four remaining ladders, the first man up was either killed or thrown off. But the man on the fourth ran his sword through one of the defenders and managed to leap onto the wall. He swung wildly, clearing a space, and two more men were able to join him. Together, the three of them pushed forward, expanding their foothold and allowing others to pile in behind them. The chaos of their success allowed the men of another ladder to shove and stab their way to a place on the wall. From my position, I could make out several men simply barreling their way through the defenders and leaping down into the courtyard below.
Then it happened with a great creak, the gate began to swing backwards.
"Forward, Fire and Blood!" I screamed and charged. I crossed the distance as quickly as my armor would allow and threw myself through the small gap in the gate. A small knot of my men was fighting ferociously against a mass of Tyroshi, desperately trying to keep the gate open while the enemy tried to shove it closed. I fell upon the enemy, smashing my pick against a jaw, all but ripping it off. I lay about around me, as Tyroshi reeled back under the weight of our charge.
I blocked the swing of a curved blade on my shield, while a spear skittered ineffectively across my breastplate. I swung my pick again, slamming it into someone's side and felt his ribs crack underneath the chainmail. More of my men piled in behind, pushing me forward as we formed a wedge of steel pushing its way through the hastily formed Tyroshi line. I found myself face-to-face with a young man; he couldn't have been more than a few years older than me. He had a wispy beard and wide, terrified eyes. I tried to bring my weapon back up to strike at him, but the press was too close. With a snarl, I lashed out with my shield. The first blow sent him stumbling back. The second drove the guard of his nasal helm back into his face, shattering his nose. He collapsed back with blood streaming down his face and was dragged back by his comrades. The man to my left took advantage of the gap in the line to whip his mace into the neck of his opponent, sending the man to the ground. I took the brief moment of breathing room to glance around. My men were winning; the bodies of Tyroshi littered the courtyard as my troops drove forward. I turned my attention back to the fight in front of me as two men stepped forward to fill the gap in the line.
I was not sure how long the fighting lasted, but the sun dipped lower and lower into the sky as the light faded. Then one of the Tyroshi soldiers at the back turned and ran, racing back towards the palace. Then another followed him, then another, and another, within moments the trickle became a flood as the entire formation collapsed as they scrambled to reach the safety of the palace.
"Keep on them I shouted, rushing forward. "Don't let them hole up again."
We chased down the fleeing Tyroshi as they ran towards the great doors of the palace. As we ran, the doors began to swing closed, evidently those inside had decided to abandon their compatriots to the slaughter. Then they were halted, the press of bodies streaming up the short staircase and through the doors prevented them from slamming shut. We reached the rear of the mass, and that is when the killing truly began. I drove my pick into a man's back while others were beaten down to the ground with halberds or pierced with spears. Many men were knocked off their feet and trampled as the crowd fell into panic, with some trying to push their way inside and others attempting to turn and face us. Some attempted to throw down their weapons and surrender, but a killing rage had come over my forces, and they were cut down remorselessly.
Over a hundred men died on those steps, turning them slick with blood. And then we were through the doors. As I stepped into the Entry Hall, I was confronted by a ragged row of overlapping shields with spears bristling over them. A half dozen knights and men-at-arms, trailing over twenty indentures and halberdiers, rushed passed my and scattered the hastily reformed line. My small army stormed into the building, set on slaughter and plunder.
I looked to Lyselos, who had come to a halt at my right. "Make sure to shut the gate and get some men to reman the walls and clear out any Tyroshi who are still out in the courtyard. It would be embarrassing to be killed because my men were too busy looting to fight off a counterattack."
Daemon – 01
"Tyrosh Landing has fallen," Corlys announced, as Daemon and Rhaenyra walked into the family solar of High Tide.
Daemon let out a laugh of excitement, ignoring his wife's studiously neutral expression. They had quarreled often enough over his eldest son to often as it was. He had hoped that Rhaenrya would have developed the same relationship with Aelyx that the boy and Laena had shared, but that was evidently not to be.
"The news came on a ship about an hour before you arrived." The Sea Snake continued.
Daemon nodded, aware that Corlys had given instructions to the Spicetown harbor master to bring any news of Aelyx's campaign to the castle as soon as it arrived; he had done the same at Dragonstone.
"It was only a matter of time." The prince said, grinning proudly. "He has been tearing his way down the coast for moons now. Few men are brave or foolish enough to do anything but kneel when a dragon lord knocks at their door."
"Actually, from what I understand, Aelyx took the city by storm," Corlys said.
Daemon's eyebrows shot up. "How did that come to pass?"
"The story was a little garbled," Corlys said, gesturing for Daemon and Rhaenyra to take a seat. Before sitting himself once they had done so.
"From what the captain said, the city erupted into a civil war between the provincialists and urbanists. The gates were left open in the chaos, and Aelyx led his men. He seized the administrative place before most of the people in the Landing even realized that he was there." Corlys shrugged. "When the fighting between the factions had died down, they realized that the city had already fallen."
Daemon sat back in his chair, grinning widely. "What can I say, the boy is his father's son. It reminded me of old times, clearing out those fortress caves in the Stepstones."
"It was reckless," Rhaenyra spoke up, with a frown. 'Had he fallen on the field, Vhagar could have flown off to, who knows where, and been lost to us."
Daemon snorted and waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the look of fury that passed over his wife's face. "Sometimes a man has to lead from the front; his men would have lost all respect for him if he had sent them into the city while he cooled his heels in camp."
The Realm's Delight drew herself up, violet eyes flashing with rage. But, before she could speak, Corlys cut in.
"Tyrosh is going to have to make terms soon. They can't afford to let an army keep rampaging through their hinterlands. Especially given how badly your son has already hit their grain supply."
"Agreed," Daemon nodded. "Then Aelyx can begin the real work of actually taking the Stepstones." For all that his son had accomplished, it was simply a prelude to the difficult task of actually taming those troublesome islands. There was a reason Daemon had decided they were more trouble than they were worth and abandoned his leaky castle on Bloodstone.
"Not for some time, though," Corlys noted. "The Pentoshi fleet took quite the beating, and it will be some time before it can ferry an army."
"Bah," Daemon scoffed. "I dislike that Aelyx is so reliant on the Pentoshi. When we took on the Triarchy, it was just me and you, my dragon, and your fleet."
"And all that got us was a decade of chasing pirates around the Narrow Sea."
Daemon grunted.
"And how do you think Otto will take this?" Asked Rhaenyra, her eyes sparkling.
Daemon felt his lips twist. Whatever the difficulties lie between his wife and his eldest, she did ever so delight in the way that he had given the Greens regular fits of pique over the past year with his Essosi adventures.
"Oh, I am sure that our Lord Hand will find some way to proclaim that the fall of Tyrosh Landing will somehow spell untold disaster for Westeros." Came Rhaenys' voice from the doorway.
Daemon let out a bark of laughter as he rose to greet his cousin. The Hightower's increasingly elaborate predictions on why the fall of the Triarchy was actually a bad thing had been the source of much laughter and japes on both Dragonstone and Driftmark. It helped eleviate the sting of having to refer to Otto Hightower as Hand once again. He could not blame old Lyonel for retiring back to Harrenhall after the murder of both his sons, but he could absolutely blame Viserys for bringing the Hightower snake back to court.
"As amusing as Otto's attempts to discredit young Aelyx have been, it does not change the problems that his return to court presents." Corly's statement killed the mirth in the room.
Rhaenys nodded, her lips pressed thinly. "There was little Alicent could do to advance the cause of the Greens. Viserys may refuse to rein in her scheming, but how little heed he gives her opinions on anything beyond the rearing of her children is open knowledge at court. As Hand, however, Otto has real power and is rapidly reversing the ground that his daughter lost over the last few years."
Rhaenyra sneered. "How many of those who cozy up to Otto swore oaths to me as the heir?"
"More than a few." Came the grim reply.
"Otto Hightower is many things, but he is not stupid." Corlys opined. "When he was last Hand, he was banished from court for pressing your father to directly on the topic of the inheritance. This time, he will be more careful. He will operate through proxies and attempt to create a call too loud to be ignored."
"He might even try to figure out a way to force a Great Council," Rhaenys said.
Daemon grunted, his grandfather should have simply declared Viserys heir and been done with it, allowing for the Great Council had given the Andal lords ideas above their station.
"Which brings us to the purpose of this gathering. The only Lord Paramount firmly wed to the Black cause is Lady Jeyne. However, I have recently begun to reconnect with my mother's family, and my cousin Borros has expressed interest in doing his part to combat the ambitions of the Hightowers."
"And what is the price for this sudden spout of generosity?" Daemon drawled.
"His eldest daughter is only two years senior to Joffrey; he would like a royal match."
"He demands my son for honoring an oath he has already sworn," Rhaenyra demanded.
"It would be a good match," Rhaneys defended." Jacaerys will rule Dragonstone and eventually sit on the throne, Lucaerys will inherit Driftmark," something flickered across the face of the Queen Who Never Was at that, "but there are no lands for Joffrey or young Aegon and Viserys. If he marries Cassandra Baratheon, chances are he will be Lord of Storm's End."
"No, he would be the husband of the Lady of the Stormlands. Trust me, no matter the wealth of the lands, such a position is unmanning." Daemon said.
"Oh," said Rhaenyra, arching an eyebrow. "You will be my consort when I am Queen, will you be unmanned then?"
"You are a dragon, my darling. The rules are different than when shackled to an Andal lady."
"My mother was an Andal lady." Rhaenys pointed out, her expression sour. "At least promise to consider Cassandra as a wife for Joffrey. He is the only one of your sons who is unmatched and anywhere close to marrying age."
Daemon shrugged; that could not be helped. Rhaenrya had produced five sons. That was more than most women accomplished. Jace would marry Baela, and Daemon's bloodline would rule the realm. In all truth, he would have little issue with breaking the betrothal between Luc and Rhaena, he would just as soon marry her to Aelyx, but Corlys and Rhaenys would never accept that for obvious reasons. So, really, if Rhaenys wanted to complain about having one less bargaining chip for the Blacks, she should blame the perversions of her late son. He knew many a man who had bent over a pretty squire when there was no woman available, but to askew female company altogether was simply unnatural.
"For that matter, Aegon and Viserys might be young, but it is never too early to begin looking for potential matches for them." Corlys gave his opinion, breaking Demon from his brief reverie.
"I will consider Borros's proposition," Rhaenyra stated begrudgingly. "As for Aegon and Viserys, I am willing to begin looking, but there is no rush. Aegon is only just toddling around, and Viserys is a babe at my breast. I would not make a match for them, only for a far better prospect to be born a few years down the line."
"Very well, I will pass on your willingness to negotiate next time I visit the Stormlands."
"Now that that has been settled, do you intend to stay the night?" asked Corlys.
"Yes, we will spend the night and then fly back to Dragonstone in the morning," confirmed Rhaenyra.
Aelyx - 38
I sprawled on my makeshift throne, looking down at the Tyroshi delegates before me. It was uncomfortable to sit in full plate like this, but it did present a very striking image. Most of the gazes in the room rested on the bare blade that sat across my lap. I had picked it up off the blood-splattered floor of this very room, where a group of soldiers had made their last stand against my rampaging men. It was ironic, I supposed, Westrosi lords would have bankrupted their entire House to possess a Valyrian steel blade, and I had found one on the ground. I was lucky that the man who had killed its previous owner had not recognized it for what it was; then again, the vast majority of people had never actually seen Valyrian steel in person, while I had seen Dark Sister often enough to recognize the metal at a glance. Idly, I wondered if I should ensure that the chroniclers record that I won it in some suitably heroic duel. I legitimately did not know which soldier had killed the blade's original owner, else I would have rewarded them handsomely. But I supposed that the vast quantities of gold that had disappeared from the city treasury before control of the men was regained was suitable compensation.
"So, the Archon wants peace?" I asked, a smirk played across my lips.
The lead delegate, one Innio Ostion, stepped forward. "Indeed, Prince Aelyx, this war has been long and destructive, with many lives lost. Archon Forion desires peace."
"Long seems a bit of an exaggeration. It has been what, four moons, since I marched across the border from Myr? As for destructive, my army is fine. In fact, I am one of the few generals in history who can say that they were leading more men a quarter of a year into a campaign than they were when it began. The destruction seems to have fallen all on your people, so what incentive do I have to halt?"
"Because you have reached the limit of what you can achieve through military might alone. Your navy is small, and the towns you have in size are occupied not by your own men but by Ghibuzardi that you have freed rather than men personally loyal to you."
"And what is your point? I have a small navy, but most of your navy is at the bottom of the ocean, and every sellword in the Free Cities has made it clear that they have little desire to fight a dragon."
"And yet, you lack the men or the ships to truly take Tyrosh, whether by siege or by storm. A Myr, you had fifty thousand men at your back when you compelled it to surrender. Here you have less than a fifth of that number."
They had a point, even if I could use Vhagar to clear a section of the walls and allow my men to breach the city, they would be at a decided disadvantage in the ensuing street fighting due to sheer numbers if nothing else.
"During the Aegon's Conquest, he reduced several cities to the status of vassals. And if the cities is to difficult to take, perhaps I will simply choose to burn Tyrosh to the ground and reduce it to smoldering ruins, just as Aegon the Conqueror did to Harrenhall."
"With all due respect to your uncle's kingdom, the cities of the Andals can hardly be compared to the daughters of Valyria. As for burning Tyrosh what would that gain you, Prince Aelyx, a kingdom of ashes?"
Oh, he was a bold one. The three delegates were undoubtedly seasoned diplomats, given that none of them so much as grimaced with the delivery of that line.
"There is truth in what you say, but are you truly willing to gamble your entire city on the idea that I will not decide that the destruction of Tyrosh will make my life easier. It would certainly remove a thorn in my side when I attempt to resurrect my father's kingdom. Perhaps after I raze your city, I will build a new one on Jagged Stone. I could call it Prince's Landing or perhaps the Dragon's Rest."
"Because we are here seeking peace, and I believe that you are an honorable man who will not destroy a city in a people while they are negotiating with you in good faith."
"And if my only desire is the complete submission of Tyrosh and its annexation into the Kingdom of the Stepstones."
"I do not believe that such is your intention, Prince Aelyx. Your agreement with Pentos to refrain from permanently seizing lands beyond the bounds of your father's kingdom is well known. And I believe that you are an honorable man."
"To be precise, my exact agreement with the Magisters of Pentos was that I would avoid maintaining permanent holdings on the mainland of Essos; Tyrosh, last I checked, was an island."
The hall went silent as the Tyroshi digested that.
"Tyrosh, like Lys, and Braavos have long been considered a part of the mainland, despite being islands, in a way that the Stepstones never have. It would be unworthy of a member of the last house of dragonlords to play word games with promises they have made."
I huffed out a laugh. "That it would, magister. So, accepting the premise that I am not seeking to occupy and rule Tyrosh, allow me to give you my demands for peace. First, you will officially withdraw from the Triarchy. I know it is already defunct, but it is the principle of the matter. Second, you must forswear all claims to the Stepstones, both now and in perpetuity, while also recognizing my father, Daemon Targareyn, as the rightful ruler of the Kingdom of the Narrow Sea and Stepstones. Third, you must recognize me as governor over the Principality of Kylos for a period of five years with all the attendant rights of lawmaking and tax collection. Fourth, you must recognize the manumission of all the slaves that I have already freed as a part of my campaign, as well as any additional slaves that I free in my time as governor. Fifth, you must undertake the repatriation of any slaves taken from the Seven Kingdoms who are currently held in Tyrosh. Sixth, you must pay a war indemnity of three hundred thousand gold towers immediately, with an additional seven hundred thousand to be paid in installments over the next five years. Seventh, for the next fifteen years, ships sailing from Pentos, King's Landing, Driftmark, Dragonstone, Duskendale, Maindenpool, Gulltown, White Harbor, and Weeping Town, or any port under my rule, will not pay any Import Dues when docking in Tyrosh."
The lead delegate remained, but the eyes of his two colleagues widened at the punishing list of demands.
"Prince Aelyx, those are demands that give to a prostrate enemy, not a respected foe. The indemnity is beyond all bounds of reason."
"And are you not a prostrate enemy, make no mistake. This is an act of mercy. If I chose, I could swing my army south and take your towns that dot the coastline there. How long would it be, I wonder, before the Magisters of Tyrosh are torn apart in bread riots if I shut off the flow of grain? I could join with Lys, who is already prodding at your borders, and help them rip away as much of the Disputed Lands as they please. I could fly Vhagar across the straights and burn your harbor. I do not need to destroy your city to cripple it for a generation. You complain that my terms are onerous; you are lucky that I don't demand that you execute your Archon and install one friendlier to my interests."
The delegates glanced at one another, holding a silent conversation. Then they turned back to me.
"I would like to clarify, Prince Aelyx, so there is no chance of confusion. That I am empowered to negotiate for Tyrosh, but the actual treaty must be ratified by the Archon and the Council of Magisters."
"I understand, and I hope you understand that if we come to an agreement and then your Archon repudiates it, I will be most displeased."
"Yes, your grace. In that case, I can accept your first through fifth terms without reservation."
That was a surprise, I had thought they would fight me harder on giving by occupation of their coastline any sort of official recognition.
"As for the other terms, I propose an immediate payment of one hundred thousand gold marks with an additional fifty thousand paid out every year for the next ten years. And we will waive import duties on your holding, Pentos, and one Sunset Kingdom port of your choice. In addition, you will ensure that this peace is also binding with the Principality of Pentos, with no additional concessions to Pentos, and will guarantee the territorial integrity of Tyroshi lands against incursions from Lys for the next five years."
I leaned forward in my makeshift throne. "two hundred thousand immediately and fifty thousand over the next ten years. No import dues for my holdings, Pentos, Dirftmark, Dragonstone, or King's Landing. No dues on timber from Weeping Town, marble from Gulltown, furs from White Harbor, salt from Maidenpool, or wine from the Arbor."
I threw in the Reach island because I wanted to see how the Hightowers would react to their neighbors being granted favors by a Black.
"I will ensure that Pentos signs an unconditional peace, I will undertake the protection of your northern territories, which immediately abut the lands I will occupy, from all threats. That is far as I am willing to bend."
Again, a silent conference took place.
"We shall have to determine exactly what constitutes northern territories," Ostion said.
"The specifics of each term will have to be hashed out as the treaty is written," I said with a nod. "But you are in general agreement with the terms as a whole."
"Do we have a choice?" he asked, the diplomatic mask cracking just enough to allow a measure of bitterness to seep into his tone.
"No," I responded, with a toothy smile.
"Then yes, pending the approval of the Archon, we are in agreement."
"Well then, shall we adjourn to the banquet hall and raise a toast to peace," I proclaimed, clapping my gauntleted hands together, sending a resounding clang through the hall.
End Part Two: The Fall of the Triarchy.
Excerpts Two
Whether the Treaty of Myr or the Treaty of Tyrosh Landing should be considered the end of the Triarchy is a matter of significant academic debate. Those arguing for the former point out that the Treaty of Myr represents the forceful withdrawal of one-third of the alliance, and the effective end of cooperation between the other two. Conversely, those arguing for the latter maintain that the regular references to the Triarchy in legal documents from both Lys and Tyrosh in the moons following the Five Moons War indicate a continuity of ideology. These references would not disappear from Tyroshi documents until the Treaty of Tyrosh Landing, at which point they would also begin to fade from Lyseni sources. Furthermore, it was during the height of the Myrth Coast War in the Eighth Moon of 122 AC that Lys began to conduct raids against the weakened Tyrosh, and it was not until after the Treaty of Tyrosh Landing that the Republic launched its invasion of the Archonate's southern holdings.
-Pandelos, Tessero. "Epilogue." The Triarchy, Masquarde Publishing, Braavos, Braavos, 1012, p 492.
By the end of the 122 AC, all the ghisbuzardi of the Principality of Kylos had been freed. A few of their number chose to depart, looking for their long-lost families or seeking to make their way as sellswords, but most chose to remain in the service of Prince Aelyx. While some of this was undoubtedly due to loyalty, much of it likely also came from a desire to maintain their privileged class. The slave soldiers of the Valyrian Freehold and later the Free Cities were usually taken in their early teens and trained for combat. They were completely remodeled with their old names and cultures stripped away. They maintained a privileged position above the slaves who labored in the fields or various urban industries. In many ways, they also led materially superior lives to the poorer strata of society. This was, of course, offset by the fact that they were slaves, often subjected to savage and arbitrary punishment, and could be killed at their masters' whims. While it is less well-documented, it is also believed that during this period, the Targaryen prince freed the secretarial slaves that managed the bureaucracies of Tyrosh Landing, Kylos, and Zarnosh. While he had technically left councils of magisters in charge of both Zarnosh and Tyrosh Landing, ruling only Kylos directly, this action would have effectively usurped the day-to-day management of the towns.
-Cooper, Gerold. "The Myrth Coast War." The Dragon of the Narrow Sea: The Life and Times of Aelyx Targaryen, Red Hat Books, Bloodstone, Stepstones, 1023, p 67
Most modern maps depicting the Free Cities in the centuries immediately following Doom show them as large territorial states, with firm borders. While this approach is understandable and is true to a certain extent, it is, in large part, misleading and is not how the people of Eastern Essos would have conceived their world. The governing bodies of each of the Free Cities exerted firm control over their home city and its immediate environs. However, as one moved further away from the center of power, the political landscape shifted rapidly and began to look less like an integrated part of a state and more like a self-governing polity that paid taxes to a distant power. For example, Andalos, which in the northern lands of Pentos remained largely under the control of local strong men governing communities of shepherds from hill forts. Although it should be noted that many of these strongmen took on the trapping of Free City magisters, and their hill forts resembled fortified mances rather than the more basic strongholds of their ancestors. Thus, the borders of the Free Cities should be considered less hard geo-political boundaries and more zones of influence. War in the Free Cities was often less an attempt at territorial expansion and more an exercise in heavily armed tax collection as the Cities attempted to extract revenue from the micro-nations under their sway, extend their zone of influence by forcing further polities into paying tribute, and beat off armies from other Free Cities attempting to do the same. Events such as the Great Volantine War and the Five Moons War were very much aberrations that significantly altered the balance of power.
- Lanny, Arthur. "Understanding the State" The Daughters of Valyria: A Reevaluation of the Free Cities of Essos, Steel and Quill, King's Landing, Crownlands, 1123, p. 7-8.
In the Second Moon of 123 AC, the Sunset Kingdoms were rocked by the announcement of the betrothal of Joffery Velaryon, the third son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and Cassandra Baratheon, the eldest daughter of Lord Borros Baratheon of Stom's End. The betrothal was the result of nearly three years of negotiations, beginning with Aelyx Targaryen's visit to the Stormlands in 120. Notably, as Borros had no sons, Cassandra was the heir presumptive to the Stormlands. The agreement stipulated that should Borros die without sons and Cassandra ascend to rule Stom's End, her and Joffrey's children would bear the name Baratheon. This raised concerns that the betrothal could potentially elevate the Baratheons as the third dragon-riding house of the realm, with Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, and Queen Alicent among the most vocal critics of the agreement. Others noted that there was a heavy overlap between those who condemned the marriage and who maintained that Aegon the elder should be the heir.
-Spyr, Jorah. "The Green Uprising" The Dragon Kings: The Targaryens of the First and Second Century, Steel House, King's Landing, Crownlands, 921, p. 253
Following the Treaty of Tyrosh Landing, a wave of Westerosi crossed the Narrow Sea with the intent of making their fortune under the banner of Aelyx Targaryen. They came primarily from the Stormlands, the Crownlands, the Riverlands, and the Vale. Most were young men looking to make their fortune in the dragon lord's future wars; there were also many merchants and craftsmen looking to provide services to the growing number of professional soldiers strung out along the southern coast of the Sea of Myrth. In addition, a small contingent of Septons and Septas was dispatched by the Starry Sept of Old Town, the chance to spread the Faith's influence incentivizing him to break the Black and Green polarization that dominated Westrosi politics at this point. This small group of missionaries was little noted at the time but would have drastic long-term consequences.
-Greenriver, Mychel. "Kylos" For, Glory, Gold, and Adventure: The Men Who Followed Aelyx Targaryen Across the Narrow Sea, Citadel Publishing, Oldtown, Reach, 897, p. 67.
By early 123 AC, the city of Myr was a simmering cauldron of violence. The Pentoshi soldiers and defected ghisbuzrdi in the streets provided a constant reminder to the citizenry of the catastrophic losses and humiliating treaty that the city had suffered over the preceding year. Several riots in favor of the self-proclaimed Archon of Myr, Arero Fylariss ripped through the city, prompting equally violent retaliations from the city garrison. Chronicles place the total number dead anywhere from 1,000 to 10,000, with modern estimates putting it somewhere between those two numbers. The unrest was further compounded by infighting amongst the Council of Magisters as the members attempted to increase their power by stoking public outrage, or conversely by setting the Pentoshi garrison on rivals they accused of fermenting rebellion.
-Mopanar, Sirala. "Empire." Pentos: Valyria's Half-Daughter, Rogare University Press, Lys, Lys, 1012, p 272.
In the Twelfth Moon of 122 AC, Baela Targaryen, the eldest daughter of the Rogue Prince and betrothed of Jacaerys Velaryon, claimed a dragon. The dragon, which she named Moondancer, was a hatchling living on the Dragonmount. A letter written to her elder brother, Aelyx Targaryen, states that she had spotted the hatchling while out riding and had galloped away from her guard in a successful attempt to claim the dragon. By the time that the rest of her party caught up to her, she would already be petting the dragon. Notably, she was the first Targaryen since her great-grandfather Aemon to successfully claim a wild dragon, with most of her family choosing to claim a previously ridden dragon or having one hatch from their egg. It is unclear exactly how large Moondancer was when she bonded with Baela, but it would be several years before the beast was large enough to ride.
-Greyson, Jocelyn. "The Second Century." Queens of the Sky: The Women Dragon Riders of House Targaryen, Steel House, King's Landing, Crownlands, 991, p 52.
Since the Battle of the Borderlands in 96 AC at the hands of the nascent Triarchy and subsequent losses to Qohor in the north, all three of the Triarchs had been members of the Elephant Party. However, for the year 123 AC, a Tiger was elected. This was the direct result of the collapse of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters over the past two years. The newly elected Triarch, one Tregor Vynin rose to power by beating the drum of military adventurism, playing into the stinging pride of the Volantine people. By the time the Triarchs were officially inaugurated, the talks had swung from whether there would be a campaign to whether that campaign would be directed north towards Qohor or west towards Lys.
-Hadion, Naelor. "The Return of the Tigers." Volantis: A Brief History, Blackwall Books, Volantis, Volantis, 872, p. 147
Otto Hightower was summoned back to court following the retirement of Lyonell Strong in the wake of the murders of both his sons. Otto's reappointment to the Handship was met with general outrage from Dragonstone and Driftmark, but the choice was seen by many as sound. The Hightower had served both Jaehaerys and Viserys ably for years and was generally regarded as an able administrator. In fact, had it not been for the 'succession matter,' he likely would have been remembered as one of the better office holders. Upon his return, Otto set about strengthening the Green cause. While Queen Alicent had held the line well for a decade, the success of Aelyx Targaryen and increasingly active diplomacy from Driftmark had seen the fortunes of the Greens greatly diminished in the preceding years. Otto pushed Green adherents into important offices, while granting favors and settling legal disputes in favor of allies. While he refrained from attacking Rhaenyra directly or badgering Viserys I about the succession, he became the court's most vocal critic of Aelyx Targaryen. This strategy would cause him no small embarrassment when the terms of the Treaty of Tyrosh Landing became public and the many beneficiaries of the treaty, including his house's close neighbors and allies, the Redwynes.
-Falcon, Almia. "Aelyx." The Green Uprising, Steel and Quill, King's Landing, Crownlands, 945, p. 105
While the various City Watch institutions across both Westeros and the Free Cities were notoriously corrupt, recent scholarship has suggested that by the early 120s AC, the Gold Cloaks of King's Landing had ballooned into a full-blown organized crime organization. Complaints lodged with the bailiffs of the Capitol indicate that the Watch was heavily involved in smuggling, having suborned or driven out various customs officials. There is also strong evidence that they ran a protection racket, extorting businesses for money. Cross-referencing surviving Gold Clock muster rolls with tax records also indicates that members of the Watch may have also simply taken over various businesses, likely by force.
-Sweetwater, Bryant. "Early Gangs." A History of Organized Crime in Westeros, Citadel Publishing, Oldtown, Reach, 1002, p. 28