Land of the King

Chapter 51: The Calm Before the Storm

4285 E.L

It is said that lesser men defied the dragonlords of Valyria at their peril. Yet between Arnor and Valyria, who is lesser, and who is greater? Who is imperilled and who is the peril?

The harbour of Vinyambar was bursting with warships. Men were hard at work, loading the necessary supplies and weaponry onto the countless ships that awaited them. It was only a short distance to the Stepstones, but they would be fighting no ordinary foe but rather beasts out of the Silmarillion. Dragons and all the power and terror they entailed.

Yet the sons of Eärendil would not back down simply because it was dragons they would face. It had been eleven centuries since the Valyrians had attacked them and seized their lands and people for themselves. Though the world had forgotten and relegated it to ancient history books, the Arnorians remembered still. Long lives and longer memories. For whilst to all others untold numbers of lifetimes had passed, to the Dúnedain it had been only four.

It had been centuries of preparation and work. Arnor had healed from the wounds of the Kin-Strife. It had fought and bled to reclaim Angren and Dorne and subdue the Andals before building a great alliance that encompassed Westeros. The years had seen their population increase like never before, reaching a previously unprecedented number of 155 million souls, almost five times the population before the Kin-Strife.

Though nostalgia had coloured their memories of the pre Kin-Strife Golden Age with nostalgia and a rose tint, it was undeniable that the Arnor of today was far stronger than the Arnor that had once been. The fires of the wars they had endured had strengthened them and burned away the rot, forcing them to innovate and advance once more rather than remaining trapped in the stagnation that had plagued Arnor in the days of Alcarin, Araval, and Araphant.

It was an age of dragons now. A time when the world thought Valyria and their dragons invincible. It would be the scions of Númenor who proved otherwise. They would bring this Age of Dragons crashing down.

With all their mighty weapons, their steelbows that could pierce any armour and fire so many arrows as to blot out the sun, their scorpions and nets and other machines to trap and slay the drakes, their water magics and skinchanging, and most of all their sea of men and forest of ships, how could they lose?

Túrin wondered. He held no doubt that Arnor would win this war. Logistically, the Arnorian homeland was so much closer to their target and they could simply overwhelm their enemies with numbers. Yet was the price they'd pay be worth it?

Yet even as he doubted, Túrin shook his mind from these dark thoughts. His grandfather may have been right, and he may not have been. It did not matter anymore. He was dead and his father Arahad was now King, long may he reign.

A knock on the door took Túrin out of his thoughts.

"Your Highness, His Majesty the King bade me to summon you. The war council is starting soon,"

"Tell him I will be there soon," he replied.

Regardless of his grandfather's prophecy and his own doubts, Túrin would do his duty like the loyal Arnorian he was.

Arahad and Aragost were waiting for him at the harbour.

"Túrin… take care of yourself my son. Make sure you return," his father said.

"I will Father," he replied.

"I feel terrible that I won't be on the frontlines with you Brother, make sure to kill some dragons for me," his eldest brother Aragost said.

"It wasn't your decision to make and you should not feel bad about it. Our people need you here," Túrin said.

At the war council, it had been decided that the King and the Heir would remain in Vinyambar, overseeing the war close enough to send aid but far enough for the people to feel secure and fulfil the law of an unquestioned heir remaining in the homeland. The King would also be ruling the Kingdom by communications with the Lord Steward and Prince Aravorn, via the Vinyambar-stone, a stone which had one sat in Hyarmenna and had been moved to the city when Arnor reconquered Dorne.

Though not the overall commander of the war, that role fell to one of the more experienced and senior lords and generals, as the third son of the King, Túrin held an important role in the campaign as well and most importantly, was a physical representation of the Royal Family to inspire the morale of the men.

He certainly wasn't lacking in military experience as well. By tradition, every Arnorian male served in the military for a five-year term upon their coming of age at twenty-five and they were expected to maintain their training and skill so they could be called upon at any time. Though career soldiers had accumulated a level of skill that made them near invincible on the battlefield, near the entire male populace of Arnor was a better warrior than any other soldier from another nation. That combined with their physical abilities being preserved until the very last years of their life potentially allowed Arnor to call upon a force of almost fifty million trained warriors.

Of course the economy would not be able to support this but nevertheless it enabled Arnor to field the largest standing army in the world, numbering two and a half million. They simply outnumbered their foe. Though Valyria covered a territory that was greater even than Arnor, it was not a continuous united realm the way Arnor was but rather a collection of colonies and client and vassal states kept together only by Valyria's dragons. A fragile link that could fray easily, or at least that was the hope. And Valyria possessed no standing military either, possessing only a motley force of militias and auxiliaries that would be called upon in wartime.

All Arnor had to do to win was kill enough dragons that Valyria had no choice but to concede or risk their empire crumbling around them. Easier said than done however. For all of their anti-dragon weaponry and magic, it would be no easy feat to bring a dragon down. Túrin had seen first-hand the raw destructive power of a Valyrian dragon.

It almost made him laugh at times that there had once been a point in his life that seeing a dragon had filled him a feeling of confidence and joy rather than apprehension and fear.

"Those were happier times," he thought.

A time when he had been free to explore and adventure to his heart's content, with no worries about the impending war.

Túrin looked over his shoulder where the crew of the Arsarothod awaited him. His beloved ship would be his personal command for the duration of the war and all his old crew members had chosen to follow him to war.

"It's time for me to go," he said to his father and brother.

"We will pray for you, and Ciryaher as well. Be safe," Aragost said.

Túrin embraced his father and brother in a final farewell before boarding his ship as it departed with the rest of the fleet.

There was very possibly no nation in the world that could start a war on the same sheer scale that Arnor was. The Arnorian Royal Navy was the largest in the world and had thousands of ships under its banner. Not all were large warships, as the Navy utilised countless smaller vessels that supplied and supported its warships. For the most part however, the fleet had become so large that it eclipsed even the legendary Great Armament.

The Arnorian war plan was simple. A three pronged simultaneous invasion of Pentos, Myr, and the Stepstones, intended to cut off Valyrian supply lines, secure a foothold on the Essosi continent, and ensure the Valyrians could not easily recapture their territories when their dragons inevitably arrived.

Túrin's elder brother, Second Prince Ciryaher, had been given command of the fleet invading Pentos which was setting off from Tol Mor, more commonly known as Blackstone in Blackwater Bay. Lord General Durrandon had command of the fleet attacking Myr from Tarth whilst Túrin was one of the officers under the command of Admiral Celosien, who had been given perhaps the most important task of all, the invasion of the Stepstones archipelago, the primary objective of the war.

Known as Tolle Rusta, the Broken Isles or the Isles of the Broken Arm in Sindarin, the Stepstones had not been under Arnorian rule for over a thousand years. They thus could not be blamed for their anticipation to regain control of the islands.

Many had also questioned if Lys should also be invaded but it was ultimately concluded that Lys, though closer to Arnor then to Valyria, was still too far to be invaded when the Stepstones had not yet been secured. Lys would be left for later was the common understanding that the Arnorian commanders had come to.

Furthermore, unlike the Stepstones which was mostly populated by citizens of Númenórean descent which might be more amenable to Arnorian rule, Lys's local Dúnedain populace had been entirely lost to enslavement and Lys itself had been colonised extensively by Valyrians who now made up the majority of the island's populace and would be undoubtedly hostile to Arnorian rule.

From Vinyambar, the Arnorian fleet had sailed near the coast until they reached the Broken Arm and spotted the first islands.

The Stepstones were made up of eleven major islands and scores of smaller minor islands that dotted the area. Most were mountainous, with the notable exception of Tyrosh, where the Arnorian city of Peluicarnë had once been built.

Unlike Lys and Tyrosh which had been extensively settled by Valyria, the local Dúnedain populace of the rest of the Stepstones had been mostly left alone. With their more pure members having been enslaved, those of mixed descent had been left to their own devices and allowed to rule themselves after a few decades so long as they paid their taxes.

In fact, with the exception of a fort on each of the islands, the Valyrians had little military presence in the Stepstones outside Tyrosh. Years ago, the massive military build-up of Arnor had alerted and concerned Valyria who had dispatched dragons to the Stepstones for a time.

King Araglas's infamous decision to not pursue the war had turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the Valyrians, believing it to be a false alarm, had withdrawn their dragons, with the Arnorian build up being attributed to them having plans to invade the Summer Islands.

That conclusion, which Arnor had done its best to lead them to, was not entirely wrong. The Arnorians did have ambitions for the Summer Isles but their pride demanded that they reclaim their lost lands from Valyria first.

As the fleet approached the islands, the Arsarothod and other ships led an excursion onto the isles where they were greeted by the locals.

Túrin was only a little surprised that they had had so easy of a time taking the island. He disembarked from his ship to walk on the isle where Admiral Celosien and the locals were speaking.

As he approached he noted that the locals undoubtedly possessed the blood of Númenor and they were conversing with the Admiral in Sindarin as well.

Listening in, Túrin discovered that the advance force of Rangers that had been snuck onto the isles by skiffs had been successful in meeting with the local population and had, with their aid, taken the Vayrian forts of at least six of the main islands.

The northern fleet, which had been dispatched from Rúsëtil, Cape Wrath, in Raumdor had also joined up with them as they moved swiftly over the western half of the archipelago. It was not until they reached Bloodstone, near the centre of the archipelago, that they encountered resistance, in the form of some Tyroshi soldiers stationed in the forts.

As they swept over the isles, the Arnorians took care not to disrupt trade. The ports and towns of the archipelago were left as intact as possible and the local populace offered little resistance to Arnor.

Despite the vast amount of traffic that passed through the islands, they were relatively sparsely populated due to their mountainous terrain. Each island mostly had one large port where merchant vessels could anchor in and pay their tolls and the forts that the Valyrians had built were all near these ports to oversee them. Tyrosh was where the vast majority of the Valyrian presence in the archipelago was and most ships stopped there for trade.

All over the islands, the Arnorians were quick at work taking over the policing of the towns and forts. It felt almost too easy.

"What has you so worried my boy?" Admiral Celosien asked

Túrin frowned slightly at the informal greeting though let it go. The admiral was one of the highest-ranked in the Royal Navy and had known him since he was a boy so he supposed it could be forgiven.

"It feels almost too easy. And these isles are so quiet, they feel like backwaters of little import,"

"Don't let their deceptively simple appearance fool you my prince. These islands sit on one of the most lucrative trade routes in the world and they bring in a great sum of revenue for the Valyrians. We've done well denying them it, now we need to keep them from getting it back. In the following months, the men will make these rocks the most fortified place in the world. Our supply lines are shorter so we won't have to worry about that. All that's left to do is to take Tyrosh. That will be a tough nut to crack and it will be everything you thought the Stepstones should have been," the admiral replied.

"How long do we have to take Tyrosh?"

"Our estimates suggest it would take a dragon a week to reach Tyrosh from Valyria without any breaks. Assuming they make stops and secure their supply chain first, it could be nearly a month before Valyria can get any dragons anywhere close to the Narrow Sea. That's a narrow window of opportunity, in which we have to take Tyrosh.

Go, see to your men and your command. We leave for Tyrosh in the morn."

Turin nodded his understanding of the orders.

"And Túrin, enjoy the peace and quiet while it still lasts. What we're experiencing now is simply the calm before the storm. The real war starts when the dragons arrive. We have to make sure Tyrosh falls before that happens."

The next morning, Admiral Celosien and Túrin set off with a great part of the fleet for Tyrosh. A not insignificant force had been left behind to oversee the fortification of the rest of the archipelago's islands.

The morning winds blew gently against his sun-kissed face and Túrin used them to calm his nerves, his anticipation growing as Tyrosh was sighted by the fleet ahead, its intimidating black walls standing tall and proud.

The war had only just begun.

Author's Note: What a quiet start this must be to perhaps the greatest war that Planetos will ever see. Don't worry. We'll get to the action soon.

What happened a thousand years ago was that Peluicarne and Lys were conquered and their populations carried off for Valyrian… uses. However the rest of the Stepstones had always been rather sparsely populated by Arnorians and First Men who had immigrated by boat from the stormlands and Dorne. Their mixed descent was deemed to make them less useful for Valyria and so although they were conquered, they were mostly left alone and their proximity to Arnor has allowed them to maintain ties with the homeland.

Was probably a bad idea for Valyria to leave conquered subjects right next to their former homeland but ehh Valyria has not ever been shown to be that smart of a nation when they reacted to most problems with dragons go brrrnn.