Land of the King
Chapter 45: Angrendacil. Falconbane. Hyarmendacil II
Angrendacil: 3600 E.L
"Do you ever wonder, how things could have been if Father hadn't died?" he asked.
His mother Amarië looked at him, "Every day."
"You know what I have to do Mother. Could you forgive me?"
"Does it matter? Whatever my answer is, you will do it regardless. Go Arahael. Do as you will. I have no power over you. I never did," his mother said bitterly.
Arahael left the room, leaving his mother behind. His flagship was awaiting him in the harbour. Yet as he was still barely within earshot, he heard his mother's sobs and felt his heart break a little.
As he stepped onto his ship, Arahael did not look back. Millennia ago, one of his ancestors had set off to do the same thing that he now had to do again, and that was to crush the Iron Islands. And with their fall, he would wipe away the last remnants of the Kin-Strife.
"Admiral, raise anchor and lower sails," Arahael commanded. War was on the horizon.
The Corsairs had met them in battle numerous times. Yet through sheer numbers, Arahael had overwhelmed their fleet and destroyed it.
Finally, after months of hard and bloody fighting, Arahael had reached Angrenost itself.
Black walls surrounding a black tower. Tarondor had designed his Iron Fortress to be impregnable, never imagining that it would be turned against the kingdom that had built it.
No matter. Angrenost would fall, no matter how many men he had to throw at its walls.
When his men finally broke into Angrenost, they had then forced their way into Orthanc itself and Arahael had had the traitors dragged out in chains before him.
The leaders, Arantar, Orodreth, and Barahir, stood defiant at the front of the line. They were his uncles, but Arahael would never recognize them or any of their descendants as kin after they killed his father.
"Kneel," he commanded, imperious and indomitable. Yet they refused to obey and so he had his soldiers force them to their knees.
"Which one of you killed King Aranarth and Lord Eärnur?" he demanded of the three sons of Argeleb.
"It was I," Orodreth, the second of the three said.
"And why did you do it?" Arahael demanded, his voice deceptively calm as he placed his sword at his throat.
"He forcibly married and raped our sister! Eärnur was only in the way!" Orodreth shouted.
"I see," Arahael said before suddenly thrusting his sword into his uncle's neck, killing him.
All present were horrified and shocked at Arahael's brutality, ruthlessness, and calmness as he mercilessly executed his uncle.
"For your information, though her marriage was not her choice, my mother was never raped or mistreated, and my father was good to her. She accepted it begrudgingly for the sake of bringing peace to the kingdom while all of you fled and refused to surrender," Arahael declared.
"Monster! Kinslayer!" Barahir, Orodreth's younger brother shouted. The rest of his family members, his remaining brother, Arantar, and the rest of their kin followed suit.
"And who was the kinslayer first?" Arahael said softly before decapitating his third uncle, staining Narsil with more blood.
Turning to his Royal Guard, Arahael commanded nonchalantly, "Hang Arantar and all the male descendants of him and his brothers who refuse to go to the Wall. If they insult you, hang them. If they are stubborn and defiant, hang them. Put the women and girls on the ships for Annúminas, they may live as my guests for the rest of their lives."
No man is as accursed as the kinslayer, even if his actions were justified. Arahael found no pleasure in it, even though he had thought he would, feeling only a crippling emptiness in his soul. His revenge had been sweet, but fleeting.
Did you feel the same, Grandfather?
"Word spread to all of Arnor. They say you personally executed your uncles and then pacified Angren by force. Many are calling you Tarondor Hirgaer come again!" his mother said.
"I did what had to be done. The man who passes the sentence swings the sword, and those men were in rebellion against their rightful king and had killed the previous king. There was no other way."
"You could have sent them to the Wall! Or you could have brought them back here to live as your prisoners for the rest of their lives! Arahael, those were your uncles, your cousins, your kin! You have made yourself a kinslayer!"
"No more than they did Mother, and I do not recognize traitors and their descendants as kin," Arahael said, before realizing he had made a mistake when he saw his mother's face.
"Does that mean that you do not see me as your kin Arahael? Am I not the child of the usurper himself? The little sister of the men you executed? If that is so then I will leave your presence Your Majesty, and trouble you no longer with the sight of a traitor's daughter," Amarië said in tears as she ran out.
"Mother! That is not what I meant!" he called out after her, but she did not answer, and she did not return.
In rage Arahael threw his table over, "Eru damn it!"
Heavy was the head that wore the crown, and Arahael son of Aranarth cursed that he had had to inherit it so early and taste the bitter fruits of duty and responsibility.
Falconbane: 3702 E.L
"Throw them back from the walls!" Aranuir commanded.
They had been too lax. The Andals had seized Nimannon by trickery and had then proceeded to invade Siriand. Aranuir who had been on a royal progress had quickly rushed for the city of Osgiliath to lead the defense.
Hours of fighting had culminated in the Arnorians sallying forth from the gates and driving the Andals from the walls. Broken and routed, the Andals would no doubt flee behind the Bloody Gate and Aranuir knew all too well that that fortress would cost far too much to retake by force.
With that in mind, Aranuir left the walls and assembled a war council in the palace.
The city of Osgiliath had been constructed years ago as a secondary seat of the King. It was built on the site where the three forks of the Trident converged and so had a natural protective barrier on at least one side in all places. The oldest part of the city was built between the Blue and Green Forks and the site of their convergence, although over the years the city had expanded to the east of the Trident, and south of the Blue Fork to include the areas to the north and south of the Red Fork which joined the river a few miles downstream of the convergence of the other two forks.
Osgiliath was one of the largest cities in Arnor, and was larger even then Annúminas. Though Annúminas remained the capital, the cities of Osgiliath, Morlond, and Arcalen had all grown immensely and their control of the canals and rivers had made them extremely wealthy, befitting cities all under royal rule.
The Dome of Stars was the name of the Royal Palace in Osgiliath and when the King was absent, was the seat of their governor and the keeping place of the Osgiliath-stone.
Aranuir had gathered his council in the Dome of Stars to discuss their next course of action.
"It is clear to all of us that the Andals being allowed to retain control of the Nimannon is unacceptable. A frontal assault on the gate however would be nothing short of suicidal and a waste of our men's sacrifices. I propose that our army board the Northern Fleet and make for Gulltown instead," Lord Mallister said to the assembled lords.
None of them were stupid, all knew that the Bloody Gate would bleed them as the name suggested.
"A naval invasion brings with it its own risks does it not? Our army will be far away from allied territory and we will be attempting a landing deep in the enemy's heartland. Gulltown is not far from Falconrest, there is no way the Arryns will yield the city easily. Fighting there could be as bloody if not more than attempting to take the Gate would be," Lord Nendili replied.
"And who is to say that we cannot do both? My lords, we are Arnor. We hold unquestionable naval and numerical superiority over the Vale, why not make use of it and carry out both plans simultaneously, thereby ensuring that the Vale will fall no matter how many we lose? The sacrifices of our soldiers would not be in vain, for it would have seen the Andals pacified once and for all," Lord Mooton suggested.
"Lord Mooton's idea has merit. The Northern Fleet is anchored in Maidenpool and can take us to Gulltown at any time. The army here will proceed to Maidenpool for the Gulltown operation. Lord Mallister, Lord Nendili, I leave you in command here in Osgiliath. Raise reinforcements and march on the Gate. Lord Mooton and I will take Gulltown."
All three lords held ranks in the Royal Army, hence their presence at the meeting and they obeyed their King's command.
"As you command, Your Majesty!"
The Vale had angered Arnor for the last time, Prince Brandon noted, smirking at the letter in his hands. Word had come from the south of the invasion of Arnor by the Andals through the Bloody Gate and King Aranuir had sworn to put an end to the Vale's aggression once and for all.
Arnorian armies marched on the Gate and a fleet lead by Aranuir was on the way to Gulltown, the royal city of the Vale, within easy reach of Falconrest itself.
Brandon's father, Brandon the Shipwright was an old friend and ally of Arnor. In his younger days, his father had built great fleets and explored the Sunset Sea alongside Arnorian captains.
A few days ago, a letter had come to Winterfell addressed to his father from King Aranuir. The letter explicitly stated Arnorian support for a Northern operation to retake the Three Sisters from the Vale and promised to make the Vale recognize their sovereignty over the islands, thereby bringing the War across the Water to a final end.
The letter had been forwarded to Brandon in White Harbour, along with an official royal command from his father to sail south and take the Sisters by whatever means he deemed necessary. And of course, as the good and loyal son that he was, Brandon would obey.
"This will be exciting," he thought
A few days later, Brandon's fleet reached the Sisters and burned their fleets in their own harbours before seizing the isles for a final time, earning himself the name of Brandon the Burner.
With an ease that had surprised Aranuir, the Arnorian fleet had smashed the Vale's fleet before taking Gulltown. It seemed that the Andals had not expected that Arnor would counterattack at Gulltown and so had not properly fortified the city's seaward defences. A truly foolish decision when they were facing the greatest seafarers in the world.
Aranuir was reclining in the Starry Sept when the High Septon of the Andal's religion hurriedly rushed into the room.
"King Rodrik has replied to my message, he is willing to come to Gulltown and negotiate peace terms, so please Your Majesty, please don't kill me or anyone else," the man said timidly.
The Arnorian King looked at him disdainfully. How this thing, ever became the supreme religious authority of the Andals puzzled him. It could explain a lot about them though if they allowed someone as cowardly as this to be their religious leader. Arnor had no such problems, as the King was the chief religious authority in Arnor, not that the Arnorians really had much of a religion in the first place though. They certainly didn't have the useless priests or endless rituals that the Andals seemed to revere so much.
Faith in Arnor was simple and uncomplicated, between a person and Eru only. There was no need for anything more.
"You kept your word and made King Rodrik see sense. Rest assured that Gulltown will not be sacked," Aranuir said.
Gulltown had been kept intact on his orders but when his demands for Rodrik to come negotiate peace terms had gone unanswered, Arahael had threatened to sack the city until the High Septon had promised to make King Rodrik agree to a meeting.
Aranuir already had ideas on what to demand from the Vale and he would squeeze the Arryns as much as he could. And if they refused his demands, well then he would simply have to march on Falconrest and make them accept his treaty at swordpoint.
"The Vale is fortunate I have no intention of annexing it. This war would have gone very differently if I did," Aranuir thought.
While he had certainly entertained the idea, Aranuir had eventually concluded that it was not worth it. The Vale was fertile and rich but also a mountainous nightmare to control. Arnor already controlled vast and rich territories. Annexing the Vale would be more than unnecessary, it would be a hindrance to Arnor's development as the cost of occupation, subjugation, and assimilation dragged the country's economy under. Simply put, annexing the Vale was not worth the high costs in men and resources when he could get everything he wanted in a treaty. Perhaps in time, the Vale might be made into an ally as well.
When King Rodrik arrived a few days later, he was forced to sign the Treaty of Gulltown that effectively made the Kingdom of the Vale a client of Arnor, yet such was the price of attacking the scions of Númenor and incurring their wrath.
Hyarmendacil II: 3919 E.L
"I swear by Eru, allegiance to King Aravir of Arnor and all his descendants on behalf of my line in perpetuity. I will be the loyal sword and shield of my liege, never deceiving him and never causing him harm."
"I accept your fealty. Rise Lord Dayne as a citizen and lord of the Kingdom of Arnor," Aravir said.
"Thank you Your Majesty," Arandur Dayne said as he grasped the offered hand.
The time had come at long last. Arnor was ready to reconquer Dorne and this time Aravir would finish the job properly. Dorne would never rise again.
Lord Arandur's younger brother, Arron, was the Sword of the Morning and had been dispatched to join him as his private bodyguard.
If Aravir was being honest, he could get used to having an elite bodyguard, and one that could match him in the yard as well. They could re-enact the famous Duel of Kings on a daily basis.
Aravir however had more important things to think of than his new bodyguard however. A lot of planning was required for an invasion. With the recent annexation of Starfall, Arnor now had a route into Dorne.
Currently the plans involved the Arnorian army invading through the Torrentine river valley to seize the Towers of the Teeth, opening the route for reinforcements to easily come down through the Dorne Road. At the same time, the Arnorian navy had set off from Hyarmenna. Their destination was the city of Plankytown, formerly Vinyambar, on the mouth of the Greenblood River. Should Vinyambar be reclaimed for Arnor, their fleet would have easy movement over the Greenblood River, effectively splitting Dorne in half.
Aravir walked to the balcony of his room in Starfall. It was a truly beautiful location, built on a small island in the middle of the Torrentine. On either side of the river, the Arnorian army had camped, with the levies of Starfall joining them as well.
At sunrise the next morn, they would begin their war, and Dawn would go with them. The two legendary swords which had once been used against the other would now be wielded for the same cause.
In Dorne, House Yronwood of Yronwood had governed as Kings for almost eight hundred years now and part of their royal duties was to hold court and hear their subjects' petitions and complaints. Yorick Yronwood, the current High King of Dorne had been holding court and mediating a dispute between two smallfolk when the doors of his throne room had suddenly burst open and a courier had run in.
"Your Grace," he said, "Urgent news! Starfall has bent the knee to Arnor and the Arnorians have seized the mountain passes and are marching down the Dorne Road! Word has also come that Plankytown is besieged by an Arnorian armada!"
The courier had interrupted King Yorick's court session and the tidings he bore could not have been worse. Panic ensued in the court, as all present had grown up on stories of the fearsomeness and power of Arnor. Though they had continuously raided Arnorian territory for centuries now, not since the Kin-Strife had Dorne had to contend with an Arnorian army in Dornish territory.
Yorick hid his fear, and ordered ravens sent to all his bannermen to muster their forces. War was upon them.
As he got up from his throne to oversee the preparations, he was surprised to find himself trembling somewhat.
"Arnor is a strong and fearsome foe. Yet my people, I swear to you, I will not allow them to oppress us once more! Dorne shall remain free!" he proclaimed, confident and charismatic. Yet deep down, he wondered if he could believe his own words.
Though the deserts of Dorne may have been a deadly foe to any other invading force, the armies of Arnor were masters of logistics and had little difficulty supplying their army. The only notable issue had been the time taken for the men to adjust to the climate and that had not stopped them from crushing every Dornish army that had come against them until Yronwood itself had fallen.
Castle Yronwood had been built alongside a river and the same river that had been the source of the Yronwoods' power had also been their downfall when Arnorian ships had sailed up the river right up to Yronwood itself. The High King of Dorne and his family were all captured when the castle fell.
"Yorick Yronwood, I must say your House has impressed me. After all it is not often that lesser men are able to remain defiant to Arnor for almost eight centuries. However, it is better to be late than never, and now at long last we have collected the debt for your ancestors' betrayal during our darkest years." Aravir told the former King of Dorne when he was brought before him.
Yronwood would probably have replied, had his mouth not been gagged. As it was, the only thing that could be heard was some incoherent screaming.
"Arron, have him hanged," the King of Arnor commanded his knight.
"As you command, Your Majesty," Arron Dayne obeyed.
Later that night, Aravir stood atop the battlements of the castle, his eyes roaming over his army encamped below before his gaze was turned east, where the last foe of Arnor awaited.
One day, Valyria will know our wrath.
Author's Note: I'm not sure what to think of this chapter so please let me know what all of you think of the formatting I used. Seeing as it would feel repetitive and I was hit by writer's block of a kind which impeded from properly writing out a full chapter for each of these three kings, I wrote out as much of them as I could think and compiled them into a composite chapter as a compromise between skipping over them entirely and fleshing them out more.
Also judging by the number of times Gondor crushed Harad with ease, I'm guessing that desert warfare wasn't an issue for Númenóreans.