Under Wings of Blood, Under Wings of Silver
Marching along the Blackwater Rush
Jon Connington looked at the Prince as the army marched.
Three Thousand Knights and around Eight Thousand footmen, of which, most were peasant levies, but at least a thousand were more experienced men at arms.
"Tell me Lord Connington... We are supposed to meet a smaller Roman force soon, the scouts have so much as confirmed it... What do you make of it?" He asked calmly, riding his horse at the head of the march.
Jon Connington thought for a moment, then looked at the Prince.
"It is a trap... The Roman force here is too small, most likely it is not meant to give battle, and will retreat to the north."
"That is most likely true" Replied the Prince "Have we any word on who commands it?"
Connington limited himself to deny with his head. Rhaegar nodded
"Well, one of my scouts reported seeing a blue banner with a Silver one-headed Dragon." Rhaegar spoke calmly as always.
"My Lord... that means that they are commanded by..."
"I know Lord Connington, it means my half-brother Cornelius is leading them" Rhaegar's voice was just as calm as usual, his face, seemed more upset than usual however.
"Your Grace, we could take down the traitor." Connington replied. Rhaegar sighed
"I am afraid that his so-called betrayal is naught but my father's paranoia. I've known him for a long time, and he seems to prefer a simple life to ruling in the Iron Throne... However, we don't have much of a choice do we?"
Jon Connington sighed at that, even he could tell that the King Aerys was paranoid...
"Well Your Grace, we could always camp here and wait for reinforcments... " Spoke the Hand of the King "Or we could move to the northwest and cut off their retreat to the main Roman force."
"That is true Lord Connington, but tell me, what drawbacks could this plan have?" The Prince seemed unconvinced. Jon sighed and soon spoke
"To begin with, we run the risk of having the rest of the Romans arriving in our rear, leaving us pinned down and encircled... otherwise, we are left with only one real choice of retreat..."
"Further to the Northwest, towards Harrenhall, and towards either the rest of the Romans, or towards Robert Baratheon" finished the Prince. Jon nodded and looked ahead.
"Still, I believe we have better chances riskng it, than we would have staying here... some chance of facing Cornelius and his small force alone, is better than no chance of facing anything less than the full Roman host." He replied. Rhaegar could see why was he named Hand, he had initiative...
"Perhaps he can be of use to me, once my father is removed from the throne" Rhaegar thought, he would need such men if the realm was to survive.
"In that case, we will rest here for the night, and march to the rear of Lord Cornelius." Spoke the Prince "It's better to fight now and hope reinforcments arrive in the way, than wait for them here and be cut down without a chance of getting out of it alive."
Alexandria Andalica
"My lady" Spoke one of the servant girls, one Lyseni maid.
Velia Lucretia finally allowed her to put her silken gown on her.
"I may wish to remain donning black, but I fear I cannot..."
The young Lyseni girl looked at the olive-skinned woman before speaking
"It would do you no good to stop mourning, yet, it would do just as much good to remain here behind closed doors."
For the first time since word reached her of her husband's death, Velia Lucretia, widow to Flavius Alexander, mother of three children, allowed herself to smile.
"Thank you Myrra." She said softly, looking at herself in the mirror. Besides her was the young maid, no more than twenty years of age.
"You may leave now" She told the silver-haired maid, who quietly bowed and left the room. Once again, Lucretia was left alone with her thoughts for a few minutes.
Most women among the Romans, took either a virtuous Empress of the past, or a saintly woman as their example... For Lucretia, her example had always been Gorgo, Queen of the Spartans. It felt somewhat odd now, on top of the mourning and grief, to find herself a widow with her husband dying in battle as well as that of her heroine.
When a message from her son arrived, she read it, and carefully placed it in her desk. before she could begin to compose a reply, a soft knock in the door told her that it was time.
Calmly walking out of her room, and towards the door of the palace, she took a decision.
All that was left, was hope that the Senate listened to her...
As she boarded a horse-drawn car, she couldn't help but wonder if Gorgo had felt as nervous as she was, when she spoke before the Assembly of the Spartans after her husband Leonidas fell in battle.
