Stannis I
The crust of dawn hung high, the Salt smell told that they were close to the sea, and Blackwater rush. Red and orange pierced through in what looked to be another warm day in the city of King's Landing. Most of the capital city's population were still abed.
Not Stannis, and the men under him.
The Fish market was as pleasant as one would imagine. The stink of rotten and captured fish was everywhere. Here it was even more noticeable than the usual smell of shit inside the castle walls. Clusters of buildings; inns, shops and homes lined the streets. The path he, Ser Davos Seaworth and his escort took would lead them to the docks, which currently held their war ships, seventy in total, twenty he had taken from Dragonstone.
Some buildings occupied or otherwise had been temporarily taken over by the City Watch for the upcoming Tourney for his niece's name day. Already space was being made to accommodate the hundreds if not thousands of pavilions which would be erected for the visiting lords and knights. A foolish waste of coin in Stannis' opinion, this tourney and of which he had voiced on the Small Council meeting. Lynesse Hightower and Robert's combined spending habits were straining the royal coffers, regardless of whatever council he and Lord Jon Arryn gave, but his brother rarely paid attention even to the sensible advice of the lord of the Vale, let alone Stannis himself.
Many of the smallfolk and court Lords would rise within an hour to pray to the Gods at the Great Sept of Baelor, a few others who could not make it in smaller septs around the City.
Stannis held an indifferent but dismissive view of those Lords and Smallfolk who did.
"Fools look to the unproven for comfort. But they never face the hard truth: Gods who cared would show they did. They will never gain my worship."
His wife had insisted that the Lord of the Light, R'hollor was responsible for finally conceiving a son however. In truth he never expected that it would happen, but months after he had left Dragonstone to continue his duty, he had received the message from the Grand Maester informing him his wife had fallen pregant after soo many years, he dared not have hope and gruffly sent a message of joy, and then half a year later, she had given birth to a healthy boy, Steffon. He had made time to see the boy since, black of hair and already a big babe. His daughter had been excited to finally have a sibling, someone to finally play with and keep her and the fool Patchface company, though a jester did not need company. He found himself refraining from pointing out that she would be wed and away by the time the boy would grow up to understand.
These were the thoughts of Stannis, current Master of Ships on the Small Council, head of the Royal Fleet. Even now at a time of peace. He ensured that the full-time sailors of the Royal Fleet were at peak readiness, and that the vessels they would operate were ready. It was not an official duty, but the Lord of Dragonstone did so anyway.
"Are you alright, my Lord?" came the voice of Ser Davos, the Onion Knight, who's cut off digits he still kept under his cloak. The blacks of his eyes told him all he needed to know.
"You look tired." Was Stannis' only response.
Ser Davos took a moment. They rode in silence, just as Stannis preferred. If the sailors were not there and ready for inspection. Punishment and discipline would be the day's duty.
"I didn't sleep well last night my Lord. I've been doing a lot of thinking. Mostly about my family" He said nothing more.
Stannis turned to his left. As always, the knight wore plain and modest clothing.
"Aye"
"How is your son and wife, my lord?" quizzed the Onion Knight.
"Well, the boy sleeps well and remains healthy. My wife is also doing well according to Cressen. She should be well in some months."
"I'm glad to hear."
Some silence passed.
"You came from here, King's Landing, you stole and robbed, then moved onto piracy and smuggling, Now you ride beside me preparing to inspect the Royal Fleet. With lands and holdings of your own." Stannis rattling off the journey of the former Smuggler.
"Of which I will always remain grateful, my Lord." The bone joints of his top finger tips carried in the Pogue on his neck gave small rattles as he fiddled with it.
They approached, the left side of the streets. The ship's masts and sounds of men gathering was clear to all.
"Do you… truly think these inspections are necessary? The Greyjoy rebellions ended three and one years ago, my Lord, and the Hightower and Redwyne fleets can be-"
"The Hightowers can be as reliable as that Hollard fool to be sober." Lord Stannis snapped.
"They do little yet get rewarded as though they earned what they have: a Hightower Queen, another as a Kingsguard, another as commander of the City Watch, another befriends my Nephew. Where were they in Robert's war or the Greyjoy rebellions? Even the Lannisters have more claim to be rewarded then them."
"They remain a powerful House, my Lord, their Port remains the richest, their wealth is said to rival the Lannisters, let alone the fact that Oldtown remains the home of the Faith and Maesters."
"More puppets they use to control the masses of fools."
Davos looked towards his King, ignoring that Stannis had mocked his own faith in the Gods. Stannis simply looked ahead; they would arrive within minutes.
"Your Nephew and two nieces are part Hightowers though." Davos said.
"Baratheons first. The Son and daughters of my brother. Just because their mother happens to be of an unsavoury Reacher house does not mean my loyalty to them is anything but absolute. My brother is King, and my nephew Rickard will be after him. Arrogant and prideful he may be. My duty is to him." The finality of his tone was evident.
"Quite so, my Lord, quite so."
The numerous ship captains lined up, sailors behind them. Some were old, having gone back to the days of service even before of the Mad King. Some recently promoted in the last ten to fifteen years. Some had served with him personally; he could remember some of their names, their faces memorable from the time of the Greyjoy rebellion.
These were hardened men, used to strive, pain, hunger and thirst. But they were loyal, good and dedicated too.
The most senior of them stepped forward, an old hardy one, a few grey hairs atop his scalp, skin broken and tight from constant sea exposure, the smell of salt overpowering, even that close to the sea itself and when he opened his mouth, rotted and cut gums from scurvy were apparent.
He gave a salute.
"M'lord, the King's men and ships await your inspection." He stepped aside as Stannis moved forward.
"Another busy morning. It will be done as it should be though." Thought the Lord of Dragonstone. He got off his horse, handing the reins to a waiting stable boy and went through to see the first line.
The inspections went well, only three floggings required for not cleaning the decks to the specific standards, the rest was as to be expected.
As the daily inspection finally ended hours later, the ride back to the now buzzing with life city left Stannis to his own mind. He had work to do, for today and the rest of the week ahead. But a voice still nagged him, there would be trouble, he could not figure out when or who, but he knew it would come. As he and his men passed through Fishmonger's Square, through the streets of The Hook, leading towards the path to the Red Keep, he saw Hightower men, dark armour, helms with only slits through that allowed them to see, with shields emblazoned with the namesake tower that dominated the skies above the city of Oldtown.
He rode by and passed the thirty or so soldiers as they went about patrolling the city. For now, the Hightowers were allies, but none could be certain what the future would bring. Hightowers, Tyrells, Lannisters. Although it irritated him, he would follow through with his duty as he always has.