Chapter 19 - The 26th day of October, 298 years after Aegon's Conquest
It was two days after his last visit with the queen when Fifield knew there was something very wrong. At dawn, the bells had started ringing. They continued all day, their bronze thunder echoing across the city. At first they could only wonder at its meaning.
The daily humanitarian convoy made its way through the Iron Gate up to the city's central square. A system had developed over the last two months. The dozen or so trucks would park along the square's end, and the escorting platoon of commandos would oversee the unloading. Long queues would have been forming since dawn. As a rule of thumb, each individual was allowed to take as much as they could carry, in a basket or barrel if needed, but absent a horse or cart. Even then, the lines were long. They would have remained permanent fixtures overnight except for the City Watch clearing the square every evening.
This morning something was different. The usual crowds were not present. Only a fraction as many people were waiting for the convoy, and those often looked particularly wretched. The homeless, the elderly, the lame. Elsewhere in the square market stalls remained, attracting their usual customers, but most seemed to be shunning the Australians in their vehicles. More than that, others had gathered at the far end of the square. Bald men in roughspun wool milled about. Some stood on carts and crates, apparently preaching before a small crowd, struggling to he heard over the din of the bells. The lieutenant in charge, unnerved by the sudden change of atmosphere, radioed in a sitrep.
"Uh…I don't think they want our aid anymore."
"Do you see any evidence of violence?"
"Negative, there's nothing violent going on. The usual crowds are just…gone, over."
The lieutenant was looking around further, trying to spot anything else amiss. It took him a minute to realize what else felt so out of place.
"Uh…where are all the bicycles, over?"
So it was that Fifield was looking at the square in front of the Great Sept of Baelor via a drone feed. The aerial shot had enough detail to make out the stony facial features of the statue of Baelor the Blessed itself. Right in front of it there was a large and growing pile of objects. It wouldn't have looked too out of place at a junkyard, although they looked rather too new to be garbage.
The pile of bicycles and other consumer goods was twenty feet high now and growing larger. Crowds were thronging to the square, throwing more objects on. Everything from shoes and clothes to bars of soap and tubes of toothpaste. Even rolls of toilet paper…everything was going on the pile. Nearby, groups of begging brothers in their roughspun, undyed wool were stacking up piles of wood. Septons and septas were emerging from the Great Sept with lamps and bottles of oil. Soon another septon had emerged, carrying a flaming rag on a stick. As the entire pile went up to a raucous cheer Fifield picked up his phone and started dialing.
######
June 3rd 2019
"They're saying the king is dead."
"What?"
"They say he's dead. That's why they're ringing the bells."
"Who's 'they' exactly?"
"Various preachers throughout the city…I think they call them begging brothers."
"He's not dead though."
"He's not in King's Landing. There's nothing to contradict them."
"Send them a photo, or a video."
"And would they believe it? They'll just burn it as well. More poisonous lies by us, according to them."
"Do you think we need to evacuate the embassies? Ours and the Americans? How many personnel do we have there?"
"Its small so far, only twenty-two staff with thirty-four guards. They have a whole commando platoon present, including three Bushmasters with their machine gun emplacements parked on the street outside. We didn't leave them exposed. This isn't gonna be fantasy Benghazi. We equipped them like they were already in a warzone."
"And the Americans?"
"From what they've told us its similar. About twenty personnel with a marine platoon and enough vehicles to evacuate everyone in one go. They're only three doors down, close enough for mutual support, and we've got at least two predators circling overhead at all times. We've told the commanders on the ground to coordinate closely."
"You seem confident that we can hold."
"Against what?" Dutton replied. "Peasants with swords and spears? Give us enough bullets and a commando platoon could take the whole city."
The Prime Minister sighed.
"So it won't be Benghazi. Instead it'll just be what…fantasy Black Hawk Down? If they attack us right in the middle of the city we'll end up massacring hundreds. That does not seem to meet our goal of mutual peace and friendship does it?"
"What do you think then, we evacuate back to the Ring? Give up on Westeros and go home? Fifield wants to stay."
"No but, we have to try something. They're started burning our goods and supplies for now. What happens when they run out of bicycles?"
"We suspect this has to be the queen's work. Drones spotted her visiting the Great Sept the night before last."
"Is that where their um…pope lives?"
"The High Septon yeah, we presume they talked."
"But what about?"
"We don't know. Bugs didn't pick it up, and we've been losing contact with more of them lately. They might have finally figured out what they're for."
"How do we really not know more? You've had two months to set up a network of some kind."
"Well sure, we've been going around, bribing locals with chocolate and asking them for any useful gossip. We've been hearing the words of the preachers in the city's squares."
"The bald guys dressed in brown? What have they been saying?"
"Well uh…other than about the king. As of today they're saying our goods are cursed. That we dig up the dead and use their souls to power our machines. That we murder babies. That corruption and sin is spreading from the Ring. They've started calling it by a new name actually."
"What?"
"Its no longer the Maidenring. They're calling it the Stranger's Ring."
The Prime Minister paused.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"According to their religion they have seven gods – or perhaps seven aspects of one god. One of them is called the Stranger and he's supposedly the god of death. That's my understanding of it anyway."
The PM swore. "This is the queen's work isn't it? We extended her a lifeline to try and save her skin and instead she tries to murder her husband and turns the people against us. What's she doing now?"
"She's back at the Red Keep. She always travels by a horse or a litter. Like, they carry her, and with a large escort. So the drones should spot her when she moves. Not much has come out of the Red Keep itself though. Without the bugs we don't really know what the queen's plotting."
"So if we stay, what would you recommend?"
"We didn't expect the queen to make a move like this. Technically, I don't see what authority she really has. The king lives and his Hand, Lord Stark, is by his side. We need to return one of them to the capital to restore order."
"How long will the king be bedridden?"
"Months, his condition is still very serious."
"Then Lord Stark?"
"I will talk with him."
######
Eddard Stark would wake up every morning, open the curtain, and still couldn't quite believe the view outside.
He had been told they were thirty floors up. It was an absurd number. No tower in Winterfell was half as high, nor anywhere else in the north. Except for the Wall. Eddard had not seen the Hightower of Oldtown, but he didn't think even it would compare to the structures immediately opposite, across the river.
Melbourne stretched out before him, rows of green trees dwarfed by great blue towers. At night they would light up with the power of a million candles. The suite he shared with his daughters, in the 'Crown Towers' was so luxurious it made their previous chambers in the tower of the hand seem like a peasant's hovel. After the better part of a week, Eddard was still making daily discoveries about their new quarters. Only yesterday someone had showed him how to produce hot or cold running water for the bath. The day before he had been introduced to the 'television' in front of which the Sansa had already spent hours, transfixed. Arya had declared it boring and wanted to go outside again. Eddard had let her, but only with two of his guards, who had the quarters next door. Half a dozen of the Melbourne City Watch went as well. Another dozen were posted in the corridor outside and at the entrances downstairs. If nothing else, he felt reasonably safe here, in this alien environment.
The 'Alfred Hospital' was only a ten-minute drive away, and he had been attending on the king daily. Robert slept 18 hours a day, and had little to offer but anger and curses while conscious. Either Ser Barristan or Ser Mandon stood outside his room constantly. The Kingsguard had been permitted to sleep somewhere in the hospital.
Lord Dutton was a frequent visitor. Five days into the king's hospitalization, he took Eddard aside to update him on the situation in King's Landing. They walked out the front of the building and across a walkway to a large, green park opposite. The two men found a bench and sat down, their guards hanging back beyond eavesdropping range.
"They're burning the bicycles? And everything else?"
"Yes. We strongly suspect it is the queen's work. We don't know what lies she's feeding them. She appears to be trying to turn the people against us."
"We must stop this poison. Perhaps I have lingered here with the king too long already."
"If you return to King's Landing, will you be safe there?"
Eddard paused.
"I have only four guards with me. There are two dozen more still at the Red Keep, with twice that number of retainers and servants. I told them to hold up in the Tower of the Hand."
"From what we can see they are still there. No one's come in or out since you left. They should be safe for now."
"Aye, but that's still no more than thirty fighting men. The rest are in the Riverlands with Lord Beric. The Queen would have at least a hundred, plus several knights…I am not sure of the loyalty of the kingsguard. If they truly believe Robert dead…"
"They have been ringing the bells. The High Septon appears to have announced it."
"Then Joffrey…"
"They may declare him the new king any day now."
Eddard considered all this. Dutton went on.
"We're not completely sure of the extent of the queen's control over the city. She probably has control over the Red Keep and is trying to influence the High Septon. But the rest…the King's Landing City Watch is two thousand strong, is it not? Where do their loyalties lie?"
"The commander of the Watch is a man named Janos Slynt. I was not especially impressed with him."
"And his loyalties?"
"He doesn't want to lose his head or position. That's about all I would be confident about."
"Well without the support of the gold cloaks, I don't think it would be safe for you to return to King's Landing my lord, not without an army of your own."
"What of Lord Renly?"
"Oh he got his plane, and we gave him a pilot and a few mechanics for it. He flew back to Storm's End this morning. We've given Cersei every chance to surrender. He fully intends to call his banners and march on the capital."
"That will take weeks, at least. The queen could do enormous harm in that time, and Lord Tywin is marching from the west."
"Then what? We could return you to Winterfell and allow you to call your own banners."
"Then it will be months, not weeks. I should return to the city soon. I will not be abandoning half the members of my household. These are men and women I have known all my life."
"Then we will do what we can for them."
"You say you cannot interfere in our internal affairs Lord Dutton. You keep saying this, yet you have given Renly a plane?"
"He bought the plane, paid with solid gold, and hired its crew. We have said from the beginning, we are all about trade. We will be willing to sell to others too, once a similar level of trust builds up. That's what his whole visit was meant to be about."
"Others? Like the queen?"
"The queen is an incestuous murdering lunatic spreading disgusting lies and half-truths about us. Now that has become clear…no not to her."
"Then what about me?"
"We will help you Lord Stark. We have recognized your king as the head of the rightful government of your seven kingdoms. We consider the queen a rebel, and she is now actively working against our interests. So we will help you, but that doesn't mean we'll fight the whole war for you."
"I feel I am not clear on the limitations of your support. You have said before you don't want to simply invade Westeros…"
"No, we don't."
"You say it is your politics. They are complicated, I understand that, but why exactly do they stop you now?"
Dutton sighed.
"Our hesitation for invasions, for becoming an occupying army…would you like me to give an example?"
"Please."
"Did Fifield tell you the story of 9/11 and the war in Afghanistan?"
"Yes I believe he did. He mentioned this. The story of the madmen who flew planes into your towers."
"Right, he did tell it to you. Do you remember who the madmen were?"
"He described them as some sort of religious fanatics."
"Yes, they belonged to an organization called Al Qaeda. They were part of a religion called Islam. A sister religion to Christianity, which is the most common in this country. Islam has over a billion followers however, only nineteen of which decided to fly planes into buildings, I will stress that point. This all happened less than twenty years ago. I wasn't in parliament at the time. I was a young man, but I remember it of course. The Americans, well you can imagine their response. You commit an atrocity like that, murder thousands of their citizens in broad daylight, the Americans will go nuts. They invaded entire countries over the 9/11 plot. They declared a war on 'terror' throughout the globe.
In particular, they invaded a country called Afghanistan. Its many thousands of miles from here. A wretched place, full of mountains and deserts, and almost all of its people follow Islam. Al Qaeda had been operating there for some time, and the Taliban, the rulers of the country, refused to hand over its leader, so the Americans invaded. That was nearly twenty ago. You know what happened to Afghanistan?"
Eddard shook his head.
"Absolutely nothing. Its still the war-torn shithole it always was. And the Americans, you know, they weren't stupid about it. They didn't just go in and set about destroying everything, like empires past might have done. They didn't just go and conquer the place and try and rule through terror. The Russians tried it that way. They occupied Afghanistan for ten years a bit earlier on. Killed more than a million people in the process, but they could never win.
So instead the Americans tried the carrot rather than the stick. They spent trillions on the country. They built roads, schools, hospitals. They deployed their troops there for years and years, some of ours as well, to bring order to the land. They tried to hold elections, reasonably fair and free ones. You know, Afghans today live twenty years longer than they did twenty years ago. Their life expectancy is rising faster than the actual fucking calendar, can you imagine that? Its possibly the most rapid improvement in living standards ever achieved in the history of the world, and you know what their reaction has been? You know how Afghans think of us today?"
"They don't love you for it, do they?"
"Wise words Lord Stark. No, they fucking well don't. The Taliban are still there. They're still fighting, and if anything they're growing stronger. There are hundreds of thousands of Afghan children alive today who otherwise wouldn't be if not for the hospitals the Americans built. They are literally breathing because of our mercy and our aid, and yet many of them, when they grow up, will still pick up a gun and start fighting against us all the same. I ask you, Lord Stark, how do you solve that paradox?"
"They want to rule themselves."
"Yes, that's it isn't it? That's the lesson to be learnt here. You've summed it up in once sentence. A people would rather rule themselves then submit to foreign occupation, no matter how benevolent. We can run the place ten times more competently then them, and it doesn't fucking matter. If we ever withdraw our troops, the Taliban will march right back into fucking Kabul, just like Saigon. Women will be sent back to the kitchen. Schools will shut. Hospitals and roads will fall back into disrepair. The Taliban couldn't run a fucking Baker's Delight, so the place goes back to the Middle Ages. Al Qaeda will return, like an endangered species reintroduced to the rainforest, and history resets back twenty years. Except for the thousands of lives that were lost, of course, they're not coming back."
There was silence between the two men. A tram trundled past on the road, towering over the other traffic like an elephant over horses.
"Do you see my point then, Lord Stark?"
"I think I do."
"My people could conquer Westeros in a month, yes, but what about the next twenty years? Or fifty? No, this isn't the way to do it. We could just go in and plunder the place of course. A bit of old school imperialism where we strip the land of any useful resources and if anyone objects, we kill them. That whole thing was in fashion a few centuries ago, but our politics prevent that at least. No, we need a legitimate government here to do business with.
Now your friend claims to be king of these seven kingdoms, and you are his Hand, his deputy, so until he recovers, it's on you. We will help you, Lord Stark, but if you claim to rule, then you must put this rebellion down yourself. Prove to your people that you are no puppet of ours. Prove your legitimacy and gain their respect, then we can re-open the country again and get things back on track."
Eddard was nodding again. "Very well. Then I think we have reached an understanding. I have lingered here too long already. If you can guarantee the safety of the king, I will return tomorrow. Can you escort me as far as the Maidenring?"
"Of course. Renly's goldcloaks are still here, more than a hundred of them. They wouldn't fit in the plane. You can take them with you."
"Did Ser Loras go with him?"
"Yes, along with his guards and the highborn lord and ladies."
"I will go back with the goldcloaks then, and my four. What of my daughters?"
"That's up to you. They can stay here as our honored guests, for as long as you like, or you can take them with you. We could even fly them back to Winterfell if you'd prefer."
Eddard mulled this over.
"I do not wish to be separated from them…but it is too dangerous for them to return to the capital. With what guards I have left, I do not know how I could escort them back."
"We can handle that for you. I will give you my word, Lord Stark. They can be flown back to Winterfell with your family in complete safety in a matter of hours."
"Then I will hold you to that promise. Also, I would have them bring a message, to my son Robb."
"Very well, then I wish you good fortune Lord Stark. Bring this lying queen to heel, convince your people we are no enemies of theirs and for god's sake get them to stop burning our bloody bicycles like they're on trial for bloody witchcraft."