Chapter 57 - The 30th day of January, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest
Merrett Frey blinked, not quite understanding the unfamiliar term.
"A what?"
"A chronic subdural hematoma."
The foreign healer was clutching a strange portrait, the colors only black and white. There was a roundish object, with a complicated mass of interweaving lines inside. It only baffled Merrett. The 'doctor' was pointing out parts of it with a blue quill. "Here and here, see the buildup of fluids? It's remarkable really, that you have endured this condition for so long. The pain must have been tremendous." The doctor looked up at him, concerned.
"I do have headaches, yes" Merrett admitted.
"Ever since the accident? When you were young?"
"Yes" Merrett went to nod, but long experience told him even that might bring on a fresh ache. It had been more than twenty years since the blow from the mace that had smashed his helm. He didn't even remember it. All he knew was that he'd woken up a fortnight later with a splitting headache. He had been sent back to the Twins, absent even a knighthood for his efforts fighting the Kingswood Brotherhood. He had assumed the aches would go away with time, but relief never truly came. He had since been married and fathered five children, but his only great achievement to date had been to become the biggest drunk at the Twins.
"A hard life to live then, with no treatment available."
"You mean…there could be a cure?" Merrett asked, feeling a sudden onrush of hope.
"Well…" the 'doctor' hesitated. "I'm afraid we don't have quite the right surgical suite, or expertise here. You'd need a neurosurgeon, a brain specialist, but I'm sure it could be done in our world, yes."
The hairs on the back of Merrett's neck had pricked up. "So you mean…through the Ring? In Melbourne?"
"Yes, I think you'd have the right surgeons there."
Merrett Frey was silent for a full ten seconds. "How could I get there?"
"I could write you a referral" the doctor said, grabbing a nearby notepad and scribbling on it rapidly. "I can't say much about the getting there or being let in. I suppose you have a horse? If you ride to the Ring, hand them this. Hopefully the Australians will let you in and you can find the right surgeon." The doctor finished writing out the note, signed it, and handed it to Merrett along with the strange portraits. "There may be payment as well, unless you can find a volunteer neurosurgeon or something, but that could be tricky."
"What sort of payment?" Merrett asked, suddenly fearful. He was about to ask 'blood?' but instead managed to say "Gold?"
"Gold should be good yes, or silver."
"How much gold?"
"Ah…an operation such as this? Tends to be a bit expensive, ten or fifteen grand? So that's…five or ten ounces of gold? Depends on the exchange rate."
"Ounces?" Merrett asked.
"Your Gold coins are about an ounce each I think."
"So five or ten gold dragons, for this cure?"
"Something like that. Ballpark figures, don't quote me on it" the doctor said apologetically.
Merrett left the tent clutching the piece of paper. He stared down at it for a moment. He had learned to read as a child, though he had never made a habit of it. His lips mouthed out the unfamiliar words, chronic subdural hematoma…MRI scan…craniotomy…Could this be the answer to his prayers? Had the Seven sent these flying men after all? What if somehow they were playing him false?
Merrett stood there for a minute more, then looked up, breathing deeply. It had been a week since he had arrived at Riverrun, part of his father's delegation to Lord Edmure's court. He had seen his first flying machine at the Twins of course, marveled at it like everyone else, and since heard all the tales of the Ring and the mysterious world on the other side of it, each more frightful than the last. What did it all mean? Would he find relief there, or was it some trap? The song of some beautiful mermaid luring a ship onto the rocks? Could he even make it across five hundred miles, the land swarming with Lannisters and savages? And where was he to find five or ten gold dragons? His father could have helped him, or perhaps his brother Ser Stevron…but would the lord of the crossing or his heir even bother?
In the end Merrett pocketed the paper and headed back over to the castle. The order of healers had their own section of ground, close by the drawbridge. Big red crosses stared at him everywhere, along with the words 'Médecins Sans Frontières' drawn in huge, impossibly neat letters on the tent flaps. Lord Edmure had also granted them use of several of Riverrun's dungeons as a surgery, he knew. There were about a hundred of the healers altogether. The flying men themselves were still about. Maybe half a mile away, visible from the battlements, two of the Australian's flying machines were parked.
In the fields in-between the armies of the Riverlands and North had fluctuated in size over the last fortnight since the battle. Stone Hedge and Raventree Hall had been retaken, the Brackens and Blackwoods returning from the gutted remains of their seats. To the south, Sherrer and Pinkmaiden was still holding out. Nonetheless, a good ten thousand men were encamped, the number growing with each passing day.
It was soon suppertime in the Great Hall. Merrett's station at least granted him a seat at a table with a dozen of his relatives, led by Ser Stevron Frey. The other high lords and knights gathered for the usual first course of soup and bread. As they were starting however they heard a noise overhead, the now familiar roar of a flying machine.
Many remained in their seats, though some others jumped up and headed for the battlements for another glimpse of the apparition. Merrett remained where he was, by habit not compelled into motion unless absolutely necessary. A quarter of an hour later, he looked up and saw the Australian ambassador, Lord Fifield, being escorted into the hall by Brynden Tully – the Blackfish. They went over and conferred briefly with Lords Tully and Stark, before the four of them retreated up the stone steps into the private chamber behind the hall.
The meal resumed after the interruption. In the corner a bard was strumming a harp as they ate. He was singing 'The Maids that Bloom in Spring' and Merrett, head throbbing, was on his third tankard of ale when the high lords returned.
Ambassador Fifield was soon conferring with several of his fellows in the corner of the hall, who began setting up some equipment. Merrett recognized one item as the 'projector' the flying men used to create their moving images. Suppertimes at Riverrun were now typically followed by one or more of their 'movies'. The Westerosi were quickly becoming enamored of them almost as much as their flying machines. A few nights earlier they had watched the story of 'Pearl Harbor', a spectacle that had seen even some of the most battle-hardened members of Robb Stark's host leaping under the tables in fear. It had been the talk of the castle since.
When the equipment was set up and the projector visibly turned on the Blackfish stood, declaring that Lords Stark and Tully had an announcement to make. The hall fell silent as Lord Edmure rose.
"My lords, ladies" he said, nodding at the small cluster of women centered on Catelyn Stark and Dacey Mormont. "Knights and loyal servants. We have received a proposal from the flying men of Australia, of which I would like you all to hear and give serious consideration….As you know, many highborn prisoners were taken in the recent battles, at both Whispering Wood and just outside our walls. Many, in time, may be traded for a suitable ransom, once victory has been achieved."
There were some shouts and jeers at this. "Off with their heads!" cried out one voice. The Blackfish shouted for silence.
"Among the most valuable of these prisoners are three of Lord Tywin's own nephews, Willem Lannister, as well as Tion and Cleos Frey, sons of Gemma Lannister and Ser Emmon Frey. However, the flying men" he glanced over at Fifield's party "have offered to pay us a ransom in return for taking them into their custody."
There was muttering from the assembled lords at this. Merrett looked over at Ser Stevron, the leader of the Frey delegation. He had remained silent, staring at Lord Edumure, his chin on steepled fingers. "What sort of ransom?" roared the Greatjon over the rest.
"They have offered to give us a flying machine."
There was a moment of stunned silence, then a roar of approval from maybe three quarters of the hall. Glasses were raised. "Aye, to the flying men!" Lord Blackwood declared happily. Other toasts were quickly made, though not everyone appeared joyful. Glancing around Merrett saw Lord Karstark looking unhappily up at Edmure and Robb Stark. The Blackfish took some time to call them back to silence. Some objections were then heard.
"For what reason do the flying men want Lannisters?" Lord Bracken demanded.
"We are told" Lord Edmure replied "they hope to use them as leverage against Lord Tywin, to convince him to end this war."
"They're already our prisoners" Lord Bracken went on. "And Tywin has not ended his war. Why give them up now?"
"Aye, how do we know they won't just hand them over to Lord Tywin?" piped up Lord Karstark. A few others backed him up. "How do we know they can be trusted?"
"My lords" Edmure raised his hands. "I understand your concerns. When ambassador Fifield brought this proposal to me, I told him we could not hand over such valuable prisoners without some sort of payment. He agreed. But a flying machine, for three boys, seems more than fair."
"My lord" Ser Stevron said, and heads swiveled over to the Frey table. "Pardon me, but two of these boys are in fact Freys, not Lannisters. Should we not consult first with my lord father as to their fate?"
There were groans at this. "They're our prisoners!" roared the Greatjon. "They fought with the Lannisters! They had a choice, and they made it, regardless of blood. Now they belong to Lord Stark!" he declared, thumping the table loudly. There was a chorus of agreement.
"Nonetheless" Ser Stevron went on. "Was there not an agreement for the first flying machine in the Riverlands to be sold to House Frey? Not only would that promise be broken, but you would be receiving one in return for the lives of our kin?"
Some more muttering followed this. "Yes, that was the agreement" Lord Edmure acknowledged "and we abide by it still. This flying machine would not belong to a Riverlands house. The prisoners were captured by Lord Stark, and he would receive the ransom. The flying machine would belong to him, as Lord Umber has correctly pointed out."
More mutterings. Merret frowned. His other kin looked unhappy at this turn of events. After some further discussion, Lord Edmure went on. "The ambassador has told me that the Prime Minister of Australia himself would like to speak with us if we accept the offer. The exchange would take place tomorrow."
"Then let us accept" Galbart Glover declared. "On the morrow, let the North take wing!"
There were more shouts of agreement. Edmure shortly turned to the ambassador and nodded, indicating their acceptance. Fifield went over to the other flying men. They appeared to fiddle with their devices for a time. As they did so, a thought occurred to Merrett.
"Ser" he said, leaning over towards Stevron. "Perhaps someone from house Frey should go with the boys?"
Stevron turned to him, surprised. "Go with them? Through the Maiden…through the Ring?"
"Yes, to ensure their welfare."
His brother hesitated. "And who would choose to do such a thing? The stories…the stories we've heard."
"The stories could be Lannister lies" Merrett pointed out, fighting off his own doubts. He felt in his pocket for the piece of paper the foreign healer had given him. "And there is something else…something I have learned today." In a low voice, he went on to explain what the 'doctor' had told him. Several of his kin listened in silence. When Merrett had finished, Steven was nodding.
"Very well, brother. If you wish to do this thing…"
"I do ser, yes."
"Then I will wish you seven blessings and ask if this is possible."
At that moment, a hush fell through the hall. On the screen in front of the projector, a face had appeared.
It was huge bordering on monstrous, maybe six feet across. Was the Prime Minister a giant? Merrett found himself wondering. Though on second glance, he decided the figure did not look too terrifying. The Prime Minister had a rather ordinary face, with a large nose and salt and pepper hair, wearing what were visibly spectacles. He was flanked by several others, also dressed in black except for the small blue or red silk scarfs around their necks, much like the ambassador and his aides. Fifield stepped into the center of the room. He gave a short bow.
"Prime Minister, thank you for taking the time to speak with us tonight."
"Good to see you Mitch. So this is Riverrun?" the figure replied. The giant's eyes looked around. His voice echoed off the walls, huge and powerful. High lords and commoner alike shrank back in its presence. Merrett found himself clutching the table. What power these men have…to cast a voice over hundreds of miles as if speaking to the man next to you? Right away, he was starting to reconsider his idea.
"Yes Prime Minister. I am here with Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell, Lord Edmure Tully of Riverrun, and many other fine dignitaries from Westeros."
"And they have accepted our offer?"
"They have Prime Minister."
"Very good, then I would like to thank them myself."
Fifield turned to lords Tully and Stark. The two of them rose awkwardly, looking somewhat awed. Fifield made the introductions.
"I would like to thank you, my lords, for accepting our proposal. I think you have made a wise decision."
"Prime Minister…thank you" Lord Edmure said, giving a bow of his own. After a moment's hesitation, Robb Stark did the same, mumbling his own thanks. Suddenly, he looked half a boy, not the great lord he was meant to be.
"You're welcome" the Prime Minister replied. "I believe this is for the best. The boys will be safer in our custody. I promise you, we will take good care of them, and I believe this move can better help us bring Lord Tywin Lannister to terms and bring a swifter end to this war."
From a nearby table, Merrett heard lord Karstark muttering "take good care of them…" under his breath, but no one seemed about to make any great objections. The discussion went on a little longer, before Ser Stevron raised a timid hand. "My lords…prime minister, if I may?"
The giant eyes swiveled over to him. Fifield walked over and made a quick introduction. "Prime Minister, this is Ser Stevron Frey, son and heir of Lord Walder Frey, of the Twins."
"Yes, Ser Stevron Frey?"
"Prime Minister, two of the boys in question are actually from house Frey. Sons of my brother Emmon, of my own blood."
"It is not our intention to harm the boys, Ser Stevron, you have my word on that."
"I understand, and you have our sincere thanks. What I ask is, perhaps a member of house Frey could accompany them, to ensure their welfare? My brother Merrett has offered to do this" he said, pointing.
The Prime Minister seemed to consider this proposal. For a moment his huge yes lingered on Merrett, before glancing back at Fifield, then over the assembled lords. "Very well" he said, when there seemed to be no great objection. "That would be acceptable to us…So there will be four individuals transferred tomorrow? Three prisoners, and one guest, taken into our custody."
"Thank you, Prime Minister" Ser Stevron said earnestly. The discussion went on a little longer as the details were hammered out. Shortly, the Prime Minister said his goodbyes. Lord Edmure began a toast 'to the flying men of Australia and their Prime Minister, the great Lord Scott Morrison!" The giant face disappeared and talk and general merriment resumed.
Though he had long since finished his supper, Merrett found himself pouring a fresh tankard of ale to the brim, his fifth or sixth of the evening. His head was still throbbing intensely as he thought of events on the morrow. Somehow, he knew it wasn't all a result of his old injury.
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Scott Morrison had just disconnected the Skype call with Riverrun, when an aide tapped him on the shoulder.
"Uh sir, we have another call" he said, holding out the office handset.
"Yes?"
"It's from the president."
"Trump?"
"Yeah."
Scott Morrison looked down at the phone, staring at it for a moment like it might explode. Around him the conference room had again fallen silent. A dozen other ministers and as many aides were looking on. From several screens around the room, lives images were coming in of the fires raging in King's Landing, along with news happening elsewhere on both sides of the Ring. Footage of the executions at the Red Keep just that morning, caught live by an American drone, had already been played and re-played a few hundred million times around the world. It was being posted to Youtube as fast as it could be deleted. Social media was in an uproar, with cable news and talk radio close behind. Why had they left the camera running? The PM wondered for the tenth time.
"Alright" he said after a moment. Wiping his brow with one sleeve he took his seat again at the head of the table. He accepted the handset.
"Hello?"
"Scott is that you?"
"Yes, Mr. President, how are you?"
"I'm good, I'm good, very good actually."
"How can I help you sir?"
"Well I'm calling about the Ring Scott."
"Yes?"
"Nasty business, very nasty. I've been watching over here, everything, a very nasty business. The fires…"
"Yes, well things have become rather chaotic sir. We think…"
"Oh I know, I know. Its terrible, just terrible. And the heads chopping off? Just terrible, it's the worst."
"Thing haven't quite developed the way we…"
"Oh I know. It's a disaster Scott. Just a complete disaster! We've got to do something. The fires, especially. You know that."
"Well I do sir. Uh…we're preparing our air assets to start waterbombing the fires as we speak. We've been talking with the Metropolitan Fire Brigade and the Country Fire Authority, and that's just Victoria. Nationwide, we have over a hundred aircraft that will be ready to go very shortly. We think…"
"That's good. That's very good, very good Scott. Aircraft are good, but what about on the ground?"
"Well the problem is with several armies maneuvering around the city. I mean, even if they don't have guns, the risk to our people…"
"Oh I know they don't have guns. That's very good. But their swords? Their arrows? I mean they're just huge, you've seen them?"
"Yes I have."
"They're the biggest swords, the biggest…I mean they're just unbelievable."
"Yes, I've seen them."
"And Robert? You released him! You healed him and you released him? I mean look what's he's done."
"I don't condone his actions sir. We told him when he was here..."
"Terrible, just terrible. What a terrible deal!"
"Well it is Westeros sir, we said repeatedly..."
"And he didn't listen to you? He didn't listen at all. Just terrible."
"Yes I'm aware...
"But anyway, I've been talking to Mark and the other joint chiefs, you know. So they think it's all a disaster, a lot of people."
"Well it's a complicated…"
"A complete disaster! So I've been talking with them, and they think we need to do something."
"Well I agree, there's a number of options we could…"
"So anyway, we've got the 82nd airborne division. I wanted to send the 101st. Everyone knows the 101st, you know? But they said the 82nd was better right now and I guess, you know, they know best."
"Well we could…"
"So they're flying in Scott, from Carolina you know? Fort Bragg…They're flying in. The equipment, the vehicles. They say its already ready. Its already in place in Australia. You know that, probably. They just need the men, and they are the best men. The best in the world, believe me."
"The 82nd…"
"So they're flying in now Scott. They'll be there in two days. We'll go through the Ring. Take care of…take care of all the guys with swords. Ok? We'll take care of them. Then you can put out the fires. I know you're the best at that."
"Ah, alright sir. I suppose that could work, but…"
"Its gonna be great Scott, you know that. I mean, the Ring? Who would have believed…Don't you miss it when the craziest thing in the world was, well…probably me? Don't you miss that?"
"I guess we do sir."
"Yeah I know. Mike thinks, well a lot of people think, I mean, probably it was Jesus. In fact definitely him. He opened up the Ring."
"Uh, well…perhaps..."
"A lot of people are very excited Scott. So I'm sending Mike as well, he wants to go have a look, to go with the 101st or…you know. He's very excited."
"I'm sure he is sir."
"Anyway, so two days Scott and they'll be ready. Now you get the aircraft, see if you can put them out. The fires. That's very good. But if not, we'll go in on the ground and the uh...82nd goes in first. They're terrific. It's gonna be terrific Scott. They're the best, the very best. You'll see."
"Yes Mr. President."
"Anyway, thanks Scott. Have a good night, we'll get it all sorted out, ok? The Ring, very nasty business. But we'll sort it out."
"Yes sir."
"Have a good night Scott, thank you."
The line clicked dead. The Prime Minister of Australia sat there, staring at the handset for a full ten seconds. Oh right he thought that's why they left it running...
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Author's note: in light of the lively feedback to this chapter, I did go back and make a few minor edits that may help better explain events leading up to this point.
