Chapter 10:
Just because you're plotting a countercoup against the man who, in another timeline, would be your father-in-law doesn't mean you stop your long term planning. Far from it. The key to remaining a reactive king is being able to juggle both long term and short term focuses. Admittedly I had a fair bit on my plate; courting Lyanna was enjoyable, of course, but it also drew away much of my attention (and wasn't it a wonderful opportunity to hold banquets where Stannis just so happens to sit next to Cersei? Gods above was it entertaining to see him try to flirt. Still, I appreciated the effort on his part.) Ensuring the total loyalty of my soldiers while also allowing Tywin to 'bribe' them was a bit tricky, but I worked off their initial trust just from giving smallfolk opportunities for advancement as a sort of springboard into gaining their absolute loyalty.
In fact, today was the perfect opportunity. I watched as the men marched through the grasslands outside King's Landing in formation, showing their ability to move in formation and shift to meet various threats; the crossbowmen showed off their accuracy on the targets, displaying an impressive enough level of accuracy for men who had only been training for months, not years. Several rings had been thrown up with fences to lean on and cheer from; the halberdiers were practicing against each other one on one, and even the crossbowmen were joining in, using dulled knives and fists against each other. The strict military discipline I normally had them under was gone for the day; they had finished training and were soon to be moved into the newly constructed barracks. The best would join the ranks of the trainers, ensuring the ranks were swelled by good, solid men I could rely on.
They would be sorely needed. Tywin had one hundred and twenty red cloaks with him; a precaution due to the war, was his reasoning. I had two hundred and fifty men, plus the kingsguard; the gold cloaks could not be relied on either way. While I had done my best to clean the rot, they were fickle men; a decent enough police force, but not the kind of men I would trust my life to. So they did not deal with affairs of the Red Keep. I could be confident, then, that the coup was unlikely to happen in the Red Keep; after all, if Tywin failed there, he would have little chance of escape. But if it occurred in the streets below, he could bribe the gold cloaks to gain the numerical advantage, and if he still failed, he could flee out a gate where a handily bribed soldier stood watch. I needed to work on the numbers; while I could ask the various lords of my coalition to bring larger retinues, it would tip Tywin off. I was fine enough with that, but I couldn't be certain that he would try anything then; no doubt he had already considered that possibility. No, the pace of his bribes to the lieutenants and sergeants meant he was probably working towards something quick. Then he could see to my swift death, quickly coronate Stannis, and get his dynasty on the throne.
I had at least foiled his other avenue of victory by ensuring that I had a food taster on hand now. He was a short Northerner Lord Manderly had recommended to me. I made sure he was well paid and had even went to the trouble of signing a contract that his family would be well taken care of in the event of his death; the last person you want betraying you is the one who has to taste your food for poison, after all.
Speaking of Lord Manderly, after I had announced my suspicion that the Targaryens would try something (giving me ample pretext to hire a food taster) he had informed me that his men had reported suspicious meetings between my guards and someone elses agents; however, his men were not trained spies by any means and were actually quite conspicuous in their house guard uniforms, so until he had firmly established himself and hired some spies, that was the most he could offer me. If I had been blind it would have been quite appreciated, but seeing as I was working closely with the very man Tywin was trying to push onto the throne, I had informed him that I would take it into due consideration.
"Your grace." The voice forced me to snap to attention, my thoughts lurching for a moment before I remembered where I was. Damn, I needed to stop getting so caught up in my head. A page approached, holding the box I had requested for today. The men were arraying themselves in formation, their weapons held at parade rest as they waited patiently. I appreciated the moment of silence before beginning.
"You men represent new possibilities for this kingdom. The possibility for any man, regardless of his status, to become part of something greater. Yet you are also special in another reason. You are the first of a new generation of warriors. It is a tremendous role to fill, yet I am confident that each of you shall step up to the task. You have already shown that you are capable of taking the first steps to glory; that within each and every one of you is iron will and discipline that has not been seen in free men since the Ghiscari Legions; and unlike them, you men shall not be facing dragons any time soon." I paused, letting a grin cross my face. "Though I'm sure even the Black Dread would have shied away from your iron thorns." That got a good cheer from the men assembled.
"Years from now, when even your grandsons' grandsons are old and spotted, your families will be able to look back and say that they're descended from one of those great warriors who helped King Robert usher in a new, more glorious age." I paused for a moment. "But you men deserve rewards in the here and now, too. So," I said, pulling open the box and setting it down, revealing hundreds of badges, each emblazoned with a soldier leading the charge wrought in bright, reflective steel, the edges of the shield shaped badge coated in a thin layer of gold. I beckoned for the first soldier in the first column to join me on the small stage I had had erected just for this purpose. He stepped up, clearly nervous but trying to steel himself. "What is your name, soldier?"
"Pate, milord." He was short and stocky; perhaps he had been a touch on the pudgier side when he had first begun, but now the outlines of muscle showed in his uniform. As my fingers affixed the badge to his chest, he stood up straighter, and although I easily had a head on him it was like we were even, for a brief moment.
"Pate, do you swear to serve the crown loyally and honorably, carrying out your King's commands and giving your life if necessary? Do you swear to never allow selfishness or greed to come before the realm?" I asked, careful to keep my voice mostly cool with a tinge of pride to it.
"I do, your grace. I swear it on the Seven Above."
"Good. And I swear to you that if your life is lost, your family shall be cared for, for the rest of their natural life." I said, raising my hand over my heart. "I swear it on the Seven."
Then I clenched the hand into a fist, a quick, brief salute. "You may stand over there," I said, beckoning to the benches there.
So it went. For several hours, I had each man swear personally and in turn swore my own oath. It would not be feasible once the larger classes came about, but by swearing it to these men, many of whom would become sergeants for the newer men, I could keep a tight bond to them.
Gods above knew I needed all the tight bonds I could get. I had spent hours brainstorming with Jon and Stannis, trying to determine the best way to ensnare Tywin. I couldn't simply let him be, after all; anyone willing to try a coup attempt once, to get so far into planning it that he's bringing in Stannis of all people, cannot be trusted to be a loyal vassal. So I sat here with Jon; my meetings with Stannis had to be more discreet, under the guise of family dinners, but meeting with Jon was not only understandable but expected.
"I think the plan to have my guards from Storms End swap over to tower shields could help against any crossbow attack. I would only need to survive an initial volley, and we could insert the new guards into the crowd, disguising their armor and weapons with common clothes. They are former smallfolk from the city after all; they can blend in quite well. Even if nothing happens, they will get training in working in small groups together rather than large formations. Ideally, I want a good portion to be crossbowmen at all times; the best we have, I think, so there are fewer undue casualties if anything happens." I paused, looking across the map of the city at Jon. "Your thoughts?"
"You say you would only need to survive the initial volley so casually, Your Grace. But crossbows are made to puncture through a man's armor, and all it would take is one crossbowman getting lucky to kill you; we would have to be lucky every time." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Ideally, we would have you travel in a carriage for anything that cannot be done by summoning men to the keep or sending a representative down. It is strange to think that Lord Tywin would so quickly turn upon you."
"In truth, I am not terribly surprised. I am an independent king he cannot control, can barely predict; and he is arrogant enough to think that the kingdom can only flourish in his hands. Not out of some altruistic drive but to keep the entire kingdom indebted to the Lannisters." I smirk. "I imagine it will prove a great surprise when his coup is turned around upon him and he is brought low."
"I suppose I agree. He does not lack for pride, that is true. But do not grow arrogant, Robert. He is a canny foe, and it will take great effort to bring him down cleanly. Still, it would help to have plans in place for both victory and defeat." Jon said, the last word seeming to weigh heavy on him.
"As far as victory goes," I explained calmly, "I would ideally see Lord Tywin and his men sent to the wall. They could use some heightened strength. Of course, if we sent them all at once Lord Tywin could probably try to escape before he even swears his vows, fleeing back to the Westerlands, so I would see to it that he is sent alone at first and then his men would follow after he has sworn his vows." I paused. "As to the Westerlands, I am still uncertain on that front. Perhaps I would take young Tyrion Lannister as a ward of the court; I recall hearing that Ser Jaime loves the boy well enough. If I thought I could manage it cleanly, I would take one fifth of the Lannister gold mines. It would weaken them a bit, but it would also allow us to get a source of gold for new coinage to meet the expanding economy." I explained.
"It would be terribly risky. You managed to seize the Crownlands because you had just won the Battle of The Trident, and rearranging lands is expected after such a thing; but defeating Lord Tywin here in the capital would not mean his armies are defeated." Jon explained. I nodded my head. Best to avoid a Robb situation with Jaime by making unreasonable demands. "You're not wrong as to the coinage issue. If we could see to it that the Mountain Clans were subdued, I am sure prospecting would turn up some gold in the Vale, but it would still be a slow process to begin mining it." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And the girl? Cersei?" He clarified.
"I am still uncertain on that front. Perhaps another ward of the court, perhaps sending her to the silent sisters. It depends on how much she knows about the coup. It is entirely possible Tywin has only told her to seduce Prince Stannis, after all." I waved a hand. "Until we can be sure, I will put that aside."
"Fair enough. Now, as to defeat. Have you any plans?" Jon asked, taking a sip from his goblet of wine. I took a drink from my own, my throat aching from talking for so long. Vorris had dutifully tasted it beforehand.
"If we are defeated but I am not killed, I would pull back to the keep, and it would likely descend into a struggle to get the Gold Cloaks committed to one side or the other. If that too failed, I would need to call the banners again. Another civil war so soon would be badly damaging; we were lucky to have overwhelming force on our side, but the terrain of the Westerlands would be to the advantage of Tywin." I sighed, cursing my lack of direwolves ex machina. "So, best to ensure that we win here and now. If I can then convince Ser Jaime to stand down and swear fealty, that would be ideal."
I paused, looking out the window at the city below. The work on repairing sewers and cisterns continued. Men were using the opportunity presented by the burning of Flea Bottom to expand the sewers, and in the patches where work had been completed, new houses were going up, strictly distanced. I would have to ensure the Gold Cloaks enforced that building code so they weren't so cramped and easy to burn. But that was if I won. Perhaps I should pull a tactic from the Byzantines and make a helpful donation to them to ensure their loyalty. It was low pay and corrupt commanders that allowed rot to seep in; and while the men Stannis and I had appointed were working hard to clear it and get them under control, it couldn't hurt to ensure they were more thoroughly on my side.
I turned back to Jon after a long moment. He had been waiting for me to gather my thoughts to continue. "You will have the backing of four provinces, your grace. Five if you can spare the men from the Crownlands. In fact, with how close the Crownlands are, you could certainly assemble a force quickly to strike back at Tywin. He cannot maintain a siege on the keep and man the walls as well; if he forgoes the latter he is dead, and if he forgoes the former you can sneak a man out to rally more reinforcements, even sally forth and take him in the back. The Gold Cloaks are not steely men; attacked from two sides, they would crumble, and Tywin does not have enough of his own men to hold the city." Finished speaking, he considered the map before him. So did I, my fingers tracing over the map.
"I think one of the streets adjoining a larger street would be best to set the trap. Narrow enough that my contingent of men can hold the line while reinforcements arrive, but close enough to the wider streets that my other soldiers can hide in the crowds and strike quickly." I explained, pausing on a larger building. I tapped it. "What's here?"
"I think that's an orphanage, your grace. It's been having trouble with all the children who lost parents in the Sack or the War." Jon frowned at that.
"A tragedy," I muttered. "But one we can turn to our advantage. I will do charity there every sennight, in person. The regularity should tempt Tywin into acting sooner or later." I nodded my head firmly. "We will have to be sure the children are not harmed, of course." I added after a moment. It was both morally reprehensible and terrible for my legend among the smallfolk. "But first I wish to speak to the High Septon. Can you arrange it with him? Tomorrow would be best." Jon nodded.
"What for, Robert?" He wondered, leaving off the title for once.
"An avenue of support that Tywin has not even considered." But one that I had been working from only one angle. Tales and songs would help, of course, but religion was a powerful tool as well; entire dynasties had been overthrown in the Byzantine Empire because people felt god was not with their emperor.
That evening I sparred with Lyanna. She was getting better; now she could last a couple of minutes before I tended to defeat her, and her constant creativity in dirty tactics was amazing as it was painful. I leaned against my sword, rubbing my back where she had managed a rough kick. "Good showing." I said. It had been three to two.
"You're distracted tonight. Why?" She asked, cocking her head and leaning on her own sword.
"The business of ruling is a frustrating headache and a half." I said with a smile. "A damn shame I consigned myself to it when I smashed Rhaegar's fucking chest in." I paused. I still felt tinges of anger when thinking of Rhaegar, but they were growing duller with time. That was a good sign, maybe.
"Look at you, swearing around a lady. Yes, you're much too uncouth to make a regal king," She teased, in a snobbish Reachman accent. Then her expression softened. "You've had the 'business of ruling' to deal with every day. Even days when I saw you answer half a hundred petitions you weren't distracted like this. So what is the real issue?" She asked, cocking her head.
I winced. "That obvious, eh?" I asked rhetorically. "Ah, well. You're to be my wife anyway, better you know what you're getting yourself into. Lord Tywin is making moves to place Stannis on the throne with Cersei by his side. Because he thinks Stannis is a malleable young man he can control, or something. Well, unfortunately for him, Stannis is about as unbending as iron and dutiful to his core, so he came to me. Now we're working on plans to let Tywin 'trap' me - but he'll be the one caught in a snare, and I'll be able to wipe the bastard off the map." Perhaps once I had him in custody I would charge him with ordering the murder of Elia to earn some more brownie points with the Dornish.
"You're sure you can trap him? Not to question your abilities, but, well, I have heard the Rains of Castamere a time or two." Lyanna asked, her expression intrigued now.
"I believe he will underestimate me and Stannis, and that will be a grievous error." I explained. Then I looked to her thoughtfully. "Have you had any words with Lady Cersei?" I asked.
"I have had the misfortune, yes. She seems to hate me for stealing the queenship." She paused. "I don't think she understands that it was you who chose me, not the other way around."
That seemed to point towards her not knowing, then, because otherwise she would be insufferably smug towards Lyanna. I considered the possibility that she was acting, and shelved the thought entirely. "Good," I muttered. "If you could keep me informed on the happenings in the Lady's circles, I would appreciate that greatly, Lyanna." She considered me for a moment, then nodded.
"As long as you don't ask me to have tea with Cersei. That would be step too far, My Lord," She said with an easy smirk. The light was fading now, and we agreed to split for now. I passed the training yards, a handful of halberdiers practicing their work in the yard. I had taken to sparring once again, blaming my rustiness on getting distracted by kingship for a few moons. Training Lyanna had helped me reacclimatize to fighting. The sergeant called a halt, and the men filed off. I turned, the quieting sounds of the evening only broken by my white shadows.
After a bumpy carriage ride to the Sept of Baelor - I resolved to have the main thoroughfares repaved if nothing else - I arrived before the ostentatious doors of the Great Sept. I wasn't certain which High Septon I would be dealing with. The fat one? God, it was so frustrating that they didn't even take a regnal name like popes did. Finally two septons opened the doors, their robes clean and well made but not particularly ostentatious. I stepped forth onto the grounds. I had to hand it to the Westerosi. They may be backwards at times, but damn if they couldn't build a fantastic cathedral. It was like looking at the Hagia Sophia, almost, or Saint Peter's Basilica. The great, arching dome, pretty enough from the outside, was beautiful inside; the glass was wrought in all the colors of the rainbow, so color perpetually shone on the marble walls, turning slowly as the sun moved through the sky.
It was an awe inspiring sight. But I was not here for sight seeing, and snapped my focus to attention as one of the attending septons guided us through the halls. He was quite corpulent, and his robes were cloth of silver, with crystals studded vertically and horizontally across his robes. "It is not often the King comes all the way down to see the High Septon outside of ceremonies," The man said excitably, his voice a high quiver. "I am Septon Oswin, your Grace, of the Most Devout." He lowered his voice, though the hall was quite empty. "When the next election comes, perhaps your support might tip the scales for me? I assure you, Your Grace, I would be a most loyal servant to the crown," he simpered. Was this how fat High Septon got the job? Simpering his way to it? Still, he might be a malleable enough man, though the common folk had known he was corrupt.
Soon we arrived at a great oak door, a gilded seven pointed star the only thing making it distinct from the others. Septon Oswin knocked and entered, his wavering voice carrying a bit as he informed the High Septon I was here. Soon I was ushered inside, my Kingsguard taking their posts at the sides of the door. The current High Septon was old. His skin was well spotted, and the weight of his crystal crown kept him bowed like a Maester. But I didn't want to underestimate him, and the sharp gleam of intelligence in his eyes told me he would be as fierce a foe as any. The old man leaned over the desk, folding his hands. "Your Grace? To what do I owe this pleasure?" He asked, beckoning for me to sit. "It was a pleasure to hear of your victory in the Great Council, of course. A long regency would have been terrible for the realm."
"Thank you," I said, nodding my head as I sat in the plush chair. "I agree wholeheartedly. As to why I am here, it is to establish a relationship between our two institutions; a strengthening of the link between the spiritual and temporal that I believe will benefit the realm,"
"You mince words well, Your Grace. I suppose I should have expected nothing less of one who won the Great Council so handily." He chuckled, but it soon turned into a wheezing cough that he covered with a white silk handkerchief. My eyes caught on the blood spattered there. He grimaced. "I am afraid I am not long for this world, Your Grace. The Seven have seen fit to call me before them, and soon enough I shall meet the Stranger. Perhaps you would be better off meeting my successor. No doubt Oswin tried to worm his way into your good graces? He is good at that, at least."
"You dislike Septon Oswin?" I asked, cocking my head.
"Of course. Oh, he might be loyal to you, your grace, but he would introduce such a deep corruption in the Faith that your heirs would be forced to spend their reigns fighting the results. But he will no doubt win. Men like him often do." He sighed, a long suffering thing.
"And who would you prefer to win, Your Holiness?" At that his eyes widened a bit.
"Septon Darien would make a fine High Septon. He is not of the Most Devout, but he is a good man nonetheless, and he would be just as loyal to the Crown - since he could only win if you supported him." Explained the High Septon earnestly.
"How so?" I asked, confused.
"There is always a strong faction of men who want peace with the King above all. We are not in the days of Maegor anymore, after all. We rely on your Grace's good wisdom and providence for protection." He coughed again. "So if the Red Keep's septon made it clear that the King had a preference, that would be enough to sway things in Darien's favor."
I nodded my head thoughtfully. It was interesting to hear such a thing. I would keep it in my back pocket. "I shall look into this. Perhaps a good deal could be struck with Darien. Regardless, you are still High Septon until your death, your holiness, and I'm afraid my concerns are of a more immediate variety."
"Speak them, then." He said.
"In exchange for funding church schools, commissioning new septons, and helping to provide more for the poor, sick and destitute here in King's Landing, having the Faith of the Seven fully behind my back and preaching in my favor would be much appreciated." In truth, even my benefits to the faith were helping me; less poor, sick and destitute languishing on the streets would ensure less crime and poverty, while the church schools would increase literacy and the number of septons I could then commission, which would allow me to send men loyal to the king to spread the word among the smallfolk. Along with my ideas for banks to help men purchase lands, it would put the smallfolk firmly in my pocket, and that was always a valuable thing.
"An interesting offer. One I would be willing to accept, of course," Said the High Septon after a long moment. "The last time I had a king come down to speak with me outside a ceremony, it was Aerys. After young Prince Jae had died. He prayed, and swore to put aside other women, and a year later young Prince Viserys was born." He opened his eyes. "Having the gods on your side can be a powerful thing, Your Grace."
Those words echoed through my head all through my meeting with Darien - he was a fine man, eager to have my support and to see the suffering folk of King's Landing cared for. An idealist. Well, idealism could be a powerful thing, when it was aimed by someone more pragmatic.
Soon enough I began my trips down to the orphanage, helping to distribute food and clothing to the orphans. It was difficult work, especially with the chainmail I wore under my finery. I made donations of gold to the Head Mother of the place, an old, weary woman who seemed bowed by the weight of the world.
The next week, there were more smallfolk there. The other orphanages in the city were receiving due care as well, of course, but this was the one the King personally did the work at. There was still a fair bit to spare, so we helped them, too. I made sure to stock up on even more supplies for the next week.
I was handing a prepared bag of goods to one of the men. He wept, thanking me for the charity. Surprising everyone, he went in for a hug. So caught up in my shock and focused on grabbing his wrist, I didn't hear the thwack, but I did feel the spray of blood on my face. The man fell, and his dead weight dragged me down. My guards moved quickly to surround me with their shields, hunkering down. A lucky thing, too, as three more bolts passed through the space where I had just been standing.
A/N And there we go! The SI has sprung the trap, and it's only luck that he survived the first volley. I rewrote this, and rewrote this, and rewrote it again, so I hope the result is satisfying to you all. I referenced the Byzantine Empire a couple times here mostly because I've been listening to a podcast about it during work and it was pretty fascinating to me.