It took three months to finish the gravel road to the Little Rhoyne River. The steel dragons could far out-pace a horse on it. In those three months, I had continued production of the upgraded steel tricycles. I had a fleet of two hundred made of them in that time. While Westeros was in a very weakened state, right now. Essos is a very large continent.
A very dangerous continent.
Like with leprosy, greyscale is a very obvious to detect disease. The sufferers of it are sentenced to slowly have their skin turned grey and stiff. They are forced to live in the ruined Valyrian city now known as the Sorrows. The city is on the Rhoyne River, halfway from Holy Pentos to Volantis.
If they behaved like civilized people, I would not have to take such drastic actions against them. I would build a small village for them and give them all the food and wine they could eat or drink. I was sympathetic to them. Slightly.
Sick people that are looked at inhumanely by everyone around them, become inhumane.
Not enough for me to let them get away with their actions against me though.
My new riverboat, with a paddle-wheel washed ashore, near Selhorys. The Selhorys River, runs into the Rhoyne river, around fifty miles south of the Sorrows. Many puddles of blood were found on the deck. No real bodies were left. Only bones that were gnawed to the marrow. Gnawed with human teeth.
Killing a man for food is a normal practice in this world and the one I came from. Starving people raiding stores to kill shop-clerks. Riots in Ireland during the potato famine. Many other ways too.
Killing a man to eat the man was highly frowned upon in my homeland of America. It is still practiced in the fucked-up primitive parts of my world though. Africans eating each other for 'Mana' and luck. South-Americans in backwards-ass back-woods ass rituals eating their fathers in a drunken orgy.
I could not abide by this so close to me. Nor the fucking up of my river trade routes.
They would shit the gold they just lost me.
I fucking promise.
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(The Spider's POV)
I have had worries about Pentos since my dearest friend, Magister Illiryio had fallen silent around the last harvest. My ravens had not returned. His ravens did not reach me.
Two weeks later, I heard from some whores at the docks of a red priest, seizing control of the city and burning the merchant princes and their families alive.
We were so busy, with the murder of Jon Arryn and the intrigues of Lord Stark that we missed the real threat. A threat that King Stannis cannot see. I would have told him about them when he finally came to King's Landing, had it not been for his practices. Burning people alive and cutting the finger-tips off of people who save his life are not the reasons.
It is his witch. His use of foul and evil magic. His sacrificing people to his fire-god.
I will not be bringing to his attention the threat. When the Real Queen's dragons are grown, the threat will be incinerated, just like the other warlocks.
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(Small Council chamber of the Red Keep, Third Person POV)
"Your Grace" The Lords of the small council bowed. Frowns on all of their faces.
Silk and lace under-clothes with fine, gold trimmed armor. Rings of black yellow and blue diamonds, purple star-stones, rubies the size of thumb-tips, sapphires and emeralds. They had little to frown about.
"Sit" commanded the king. His face hard, his head bald, and, his eyes small and beady.
"Why did you send for me?"
"I gave you all specific duties and directives that were simple and did not need the King's input to make a decision." He snarled at the lords.
"We are worried, Your Grace" Said the Master of Coin.
"About?" Asked the King, left eyebrow twitching.
"The small folk are becoming discontent your grace." Said the new Master of Whispers, the old having disappeared ten months before.
"When are they not discontent? I have never known the small folk to be content with anything, always wanting more and more. They will always find something to be discontent about. It is the nature of the peasants to want more. Handle it as we always have. Kill the ring-leaders and send the others to to the wall."
"Yes, Your Grace" Said the Hand of the King, The onion knight.
The lords were still frowning.
"What else? My time is important."
"We are worried about your ally, the Red Son of Pentos. His army could crush us at his will. We need to build defenses against him and train soldiers to fight his zealots should he attack. We are almost defenseless against him if he should betray us."
The King kept silent for a few moments thinking hard.
"Begin training some small folk in the sword and Pentoshi crossbow. We need to build an army to match the one in Pentos. Find a way to copy the Pentoshi cross-bow to lessen the cost of buying them as we have been.
I'll take a new loan out from Bravos if need be."
"Yes, Your Grace."
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The last few months, cooped up in Holy Pentos has made me bored. It may be my 15 year old hormones affecting the mind of a twenty-five year old man, but, hormones are powerful things. I had no trouble avoiding the whores who had never seen penicillin and the sad pathetic uneducated fan-girls who lusted for the son of God. I lusted for something different.
In a way only a fifteen year old can, I lusted for an adventure. A princess and a quest fit for an Emperor. Damn hormones. I can't stop thinking about the pretty white hair, pale smooth skin, and, perky tits of Emilia Clarke's character. A good start for the Red Son's harem would be the Mother of Dragons. I couldn't greet her empty-handed though.
"Hi miss dragon-lord, I want to fuck you and keep you in a gilded cage with your dragons for my amusement!" Would probably not go over so well.
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I sent twenty Steel dragons with trailers loaded with troops and barrels of Holy-water(white lightning), down the flatlands with orders to burn the jungle for a days ride around the Sorrows.
Leave no tree standing and stay down-wind of the smoke. keep wet cloth tied around your face and keep the steel dragons out of the jungle. Start the fire, a day separate, north and south and meet in the middle. Run down any Stone-men trying to escape the fire. Do not touch any of the bodies of stone-men, build a pyre around where they lay and set it alight without getting the evil tainted blood on yourself. Any steel dragon with the tainted blood must be doused with holy water and left in the baking sun with no cover for 7 days.
I hoped that could kill any contagion. All troops were then to return and be isolated for 3 months to insure they were not infected with the evil of greyscale.
If Gen. Thorvin can carry out something this simple himself, he will be rewarded with a year of free brothel visits. That got him hyped for the firebug operation to no end. I have no wish to smell the horrid stench of a jungle aflame. Hopefully the fire wont spread too far.
Did they expect me to send them into the jungle to fight the stone-men?
Hell yes!
Did my orders make them happy?
Hell yes!
Hope they have a good tale when they return. I should be back before they are out of quarantine. They will not be close enough to talk to anyone for the next 3 and a half months to anyone, but themselves and the whores who I allow to make a living out of every Steel dragon.
Yes, Steel dragons do have an assigned whore.
No need for wives.
The marriage rates plummeted in Holy Pentos, but, the Red temples gets flooded with greatly needed new blood to expand from all the unwanted bastard babies of my people. Good for everyone. Whores can work a few weeks after child-birth, I get new-born followers to mold.
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