"Be seated, my lords," Aegon said as he took his seat at the head of the Small Council table. "We wish to begin today's business with the Stepstones. My lord Baratheon, Ser Eddard, Lord Varys, how stands the situation in those islands?"
"Dangerous, Your Grace," Stannis Baratheon said bluntly, unrolling a map of the southern Narrow Sea onto the table. "Normally the pirates fight each other as much as they prey on passing ships, but starting three years ago, we began to see a marked increase in pirate attacks on our shipping in and around the Stepstones. In the past year alone, one hundred and forty Westerosi merchantmen have been attacked in and around the Stepstones, and sixty-two of them were lost. My opposite numbers in Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh have all noted the increased pirate activity, but they have not reported suffering anywhere near the level of depredation we have endured."
Varys nodded. "My little birds around the Stepstones have been singing songs to me of men with Volantene accents offering a bounty of a thousand honors to any pirate who takes, sinks, or burns a Westerosi merchantman. My birds in Volantis are not yet so highly placed as to determine whether or not this is a deliberate policy of the Triarchs or simply adventurism by private citizens, but I believe Ser Eddard has more information on that front?" he said, raising an eyebrow at Ser Eddard, who nodded.
"Your Grace, three months ago, I dispatched patrols from the Royal Corps of Guides to scout the Stepstones and see if there was any truth to this rumor of bounties. One of them, Sergeant Woodman, saw with his own eyes a trio of Volantene dromonds in the middle of Hangman's Cove, and a man standing under a Volantene banner giving chests full of gold to a man who matches the description of Salladhor Saan, who is one of the most powerful pirates in the Narrow Sea. I have his report here, if anyone wishes to review it," he drew out a sheaf of papers surmounted with the eye and crossed lances crest of the Guides, but Aegon shook his head.
"This Woodman is a man of our service, and his report comes to us from your hands; we are satisfied as to its accuracy," Aegon said. "Grand Maester, Lord Tarly, you are our experts in matters of law. May we consider ourselves at war with Volantis?"
Grand Maester Pycelle shook his head. "Not in strictest law, Your Grace," he said heavily. "For a state of war to exist between us and Volantis, we must be attacked by ships or men under Volantene colors. The use of pirates does not fit that definition, as they are not Volantene forces."
"I fear I must agree with Pycelle, Your Grace," said Tarly, who looked like it physically pained him to say it. "Absent direct Volantene involvement in these attacks, we cannot legally declare a state of war. That being said," he raised a finger as if to forestall an outburst, although Aegon was quite sure he hadn't so much as twitched, "we are under no such restrictions as regarding the pirates, as they are hostis humani generis, enemies-general of humankind. We are perfectly within our rights to take, interrogate, and kill any pirate we find anywhere in the world."
"Which is splendid, my lord, but leaves the problem unanswered," Aegon said evenly. "It matters not how many pirates we kill, even if we dye the seas red with their blood. They will still haunt the Stepstones and plague our trade for as long as Volantis provides them with gold to do so." He turned to Ser Eddard. "Ser Eddard, have any plans been made to assault the Stepstones and clean them out?"
"I have drawn up two, Your Grace, and I am sure that Stannis has drawn up at least one of his own," Ser Eddard said. "I can provide you with copies by tomorrow morning."
"Pray do so," Aegon replied. "That leaves only the Volantenes to attend to." He turned to Rodrik Harlaw. "My lord Harlaw, we trust you know of captains who would not be averse to reaving Volantene waters?"
Rodrik cocked an eyebrow. "Your Grace, there isn't a captain in the Isles who wouldn't leap at the chance to go reaving the Orange Shore and the mouth of the Rhoyne. They'd slaver at the mouth at the thought of it."
"Excellent," said Aegon. "Send word to the Isles that any captain who wishes to reave Volantene waters has my leave to do so without repercussion and my prayers for their success. I ask only that they take every opportunity to interdict the slave trade between Volantis and Slaver's Bay, and that they bring every slave they can carry here to King's Landing for emancipation. My lord Lannister, I leave it to you and Ser Rodrik to decide upon a suitable reward for every slave so liberated." Kevan Lannister acknowledged the command with a bow from his seat and Harlaw grinned fiercely.
"Give it four months, Your Grace, and there'll be a hundred longships off the Volantene coasts, all packed with reavers," he said, rubbing his hands. "By the Drowned God, I almost wish I were young again and could go with them." The other Small Council members looked askance at Rodrik but the old ironborn didn't seem to notice, his eyes gleaming at the thought of the richest reaving expedition since Dalton the Red Kraken. A leopard can't change his spots, nor an ironborn change his ways, Aegon reflected. Keep our home-grown pirates profitably employed hurting other people, old sea-dog, and I'll think well of you for it.
"In the meantime, Ser Eddard, Lord Stannis," he turned back to his Lord Marshal and Master of Ships, "Decide between you on a plan to invade and conquer the Stepstones by next sennight's meeting and present it to us then. And now, we believe, the next order of business is the expansion of our judiciary. Lord Tarly, where do we stand on that matter?"
"The circuit courts for the Reach have been established and are in operation, as are the circuit courts for the Crownlands, the Vale, the Westerlands, and the Stormlands," Tarly said with every evidence of satisfaction. "The circuit court of the Riverlands has been encountering some difficulties getting the local lords and landed knights to acknowledge its authority, but Lord Tully and Ser Edmure have been making efforts on our behalf. I am confident that the circuit court of the Riverlands will be fully established before the year is out."
"We charge you spare no effort, Lord Tarly," Aegon said firmly. "We would have it said that any citizen of our realm may have swift and certain justice, be they lord, knight, or peasant. How goes the establishment of the Dornish court?"
"The Dornish circuit court is running smoothly in all respects bar one, Your Grace," Tarly replied. "The harshness of the climate and the particularities of Dornish law make it difficult to find men from outside Dorne willing to serve there, and Your Grace has explicitly commanded that no man may be a judge, a bailiff, or a deputy in the kingdom he was born in."
"Which command we are not minded to rescind," Aegon said flatly. Getting the courts accepted and operating was difficult enough without facilitating corruption. At least most judges didn't have to ride with an escort of lancers and mounted archers from the Guides anymore. "My lord Lannister, make arrangements with Lord Tarly to offer increased pay to men who will serve in Dorne. Grand Maester, we pray you write to the Citadel requesting that they offer more classes on Dornish law and custom to men we send there for judicial training." Given that the Citadel was the center of Westerosi learning, royal judges perforce had to travel there to receive their training. Aegon had tried getting the maesters to set up a school of law in King's Landing, but they had so far proved immovable. "We recall as well that much the same difficulties existed in the establishment of the circuit courts of the North; let the same arrangements be made there as well." The North had cooperated in the establishment of the circuit courts, but the sheer distances involved and the occasional recalcitrance of the local lords made it almost as difficult a post as Dorne. Thankfully, Tywin Lannister had accepted their operation in the Westerlands and backed them up with his army. "Is there any other immediate business?" he asked.
"Just one matter, Your Grace," said Jon Arryn, his deep voice impeccably cultured, "that of your betrothal."
Aegon distinctly felt his heart skip a beat, but he nonetheless kept his face impassive. Stone, I must be stone, he thought desperately. "Our betrothal, my lord?" he said, keeping his voice low in order to ensure its evenness. "We were unaware that we had on."
"That is rather the issue, Your Grace," said Jason Mallister. "You haven't got one."
"Indeed," Varys commented dryly, his face studiously bland.
Aegon prided himself on his self-control, but he nonetheless feared that the churning in his innards that this line of inquiry had provoked was visible on his face. His mother and grandmother had tried to conceal the truth of their marriages from him, but other sources had been more forthcoming; he knew that his grandfather was a mad rapist and that his father had abandoned his mother over a prophecy he had found in some musty old tome. Above all things he feared the Targaryen madness, but especially as it pertained to how it would affect those closest to him. He was hardly a prude, one of the few gifts he had ever unreservedly thanked Uncle Oberyn for was the arrangements he had made with Madame Chataya for his sixteenth nameday, but he believed in his bone marrow in his duty to be the safeguard of the helpless, especially women. The idea that he might become a monster like his grandfather . . . he had lost count of the number of candles he had lit to the Seven for the mercy that would spare him that before he turned thirteen. He had been unable to make Lord Commander Hightower swear to put him down if he ever went as mad as Aerys, but fortunately Ser Jaime Lannister had been more easily persuaded. He had even been completely serious in voice and face when he swore that oath, which was a rare occurrence for the sardonic knight.
"We are not minded to discuss the matter of our betrothal at his time," he said flatly, when he was sure he could control his voice. "For one thing, we have yet to receive any offers we deem worthy. For another, we do not wish to overshadow our sister's nuptials." That brought a round of bowed heads, to which Jon Arryn added a graceful gesture of assent. Aegon might be the king, and respected, but it was Rhaenys who held the true adoration of these men, many of whom considered her a sort of niece. Rodrik Harlaw, he knew, had carried her on his shoulders as a child, as had Kevan and Eddard. Even dour Randyll Tarly had been witnessed to smile in Rhaenys' presence, which Aegon would have thought impossible if he had not seen it himself. "In the months after our sister's wedding, perhaps, we will entertain offers for our own betrothal. Until then, we declare the matter closed. Any other business? No? Then we declare this meeting adjourned."