"Your Grace, might I be bold enough to request that you clear your schedule tomorrow? There is a delegation from Oldtown requesting that we speak with them prior to your coronation once we reach the city today," Mace Tyrell asked Quentyn, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Already, Lord Tyrell? The Lords of the Reach sure do move fast when it suits them," Quentyn mused, to which Mace gave an awkward chuckle, even as Oberyn laughed heartily atop his destrier.
Their party was making their way towards Oldtown with a portion of the Army as an honor guard, while the combined army of the alliance was slowly making its way.
"No … well, this is a delegation that I believe you will need to deal with, your grace. The Archmaesters of the Citadel and the most devout of the Starry Sept have requested an audience as they wish to address some concerns with you. It has been more than a hundred years since a king has been crowned in the Starry Sept. The last king of note to be crowned there was Aegon the Conqueror. They are understandably concerned at what this portends to the Reach and the Faith, and seek some assurances from you. This is a request that even I was hard pressed to deny," Mace admitted, while Quentyn nodded.
"Understandable," Quentyn nodded. "I had anticipated it even, but I did not expect them to be this eager. In a way, it makes sense for them to come to an accord with me before I am crowned. You may send word of my acceptance," he replied back, to which Mace nodded, though he seemed hesitant.
"Something else, you wish to speak to me about, Lord Tyrell?" Quentyn asked, at which Mace looked rather contrite before repeating himself.
"I suspect that my Mother will force her way into this conclave, My Lord. While, I have kept her from interfering in the rule of the Reach since the battle of Starpike, I am loath to admit it, but this time she will not be denied. The stakes are that much higher. You know what she will ask for. We have discussed this and come to terms, but your way of thinking is alien to her. I am worried that she will not understand and could complicate matters," Mace replied, to which Quentyn became silent.
"He makes a fair point, nephew," Oberyn replied, to which Quentyn nodded.
"Then I will speak with the queen of thorns, rest assured, Lord Mace, regardless of anything, our agreement stands."
"Thank you, Prince Quentyn," Mace spoke out in relieved tones, while Quentyn just smiled as their party trotted forward.
At the foot of the Hightower, the keep of House Hightower stood a group of nobles awaiting the procession of the yet to be crowned King. They were understandably annoyed at the delay as the hordes of cheering citizens had impeded the progress of the column.
All of the city had been bedecked in flowers and banners to welcome the victors of Bitterbridge. This was the greatest victory that the Reach had won in three hundred years, and the fact that they had done this by defeating the Westerlands, who were acclaimed as the most powerful Kingdom in Westeros prior to the battle was a decoration on top of the cake.
When the news that Quentyn Martell intended to crown himself as King of Southern Westeros had broken out, the city seemed to have come alive in a way few had predicted.
Understandably, this delay was causing some bitterness amongst the delegation members who were not pleased with the interruption.
"This is taking too long," Septon Barth, the representative of the Faith spoke out while others rolled their eyes.
"He enters Hightower like a conquering hero," Archmaester Ebrose noted, "just like another did three hundred years ago to be crowned at the Starry Sept. Ironic, is it not?"
"Conqueror?" Septon Barth scoffed, "I admit that he was won a great victory, perhaps the greatest one in the history of Westeros. But only the Reach has bent to him and Dorne is his birthright. He has not beaten any other kingdoms yet, so I think it is a bit premature to be comparing him with the rider of the Black Dread yet," the old priest was rather caustic in his reply.
"He has already conquered the hearts and minds of the people of the Reach," came the sharp rebuttal of Olenna, who stood to the side. "I don't recall the small folk ever cheering for my son or Leyton for that matter like this," the queen of thorns was more analytical in her words.
"He is young, but he shows great promise," Ebrose replied back. And coming from the Archmaester of Archmaesters, this was extravagant praise, Olenna knew.
Soon, a page rushed forward and informed that the column was finally making their way to the gates of the keep.
Twenty minutes later, they could see a group of men walking towards them, with three men leading the column. At the left, was her son who was carrying himself off rather splendidly. He had done well despite her misgivings and he deserved praise for what he had done, she admitted to herself.
Next at the right, was the Red Viper of Dorne. He was in a jovial mood and seemed to be in good spirits. Considering that he had avenged his sister, he had reason to be cheerful.
Finally, at the middle was the person that the whole world was currently eyeing. He was a boy of seventeen years age, and was dressed in fine clothes of blue and white colors, and carried himself adroitly. His face was full of smiles as he greeted and waved at the swell of onlookers, but betrayed nothing.
As the group reached them, Mace made forward to introduce the visitors. Even if it was formality's sake, niceties had to be observed.
Finally, after Mace had introduced the Prince of Dorne, Olenna could understand why her son was so taken in by the boy. He seemed to exude a sense of confidence that instantly lent itself to those surrounding him.
"Prince Quentyn, it seems that the whole world is speaking of your exploits only. You have certainly given a lot to talk about for everyone," she quipped, even as the boy smiled.
"And I intend to give a lot more," the boy replied back, which left her gaping for a moment.
"Not modest at all, are you?" she queried, while everyone became silent.
"At this point, after what I have achieved, what is the point in showing false modesty? I am what I am," the boy replied with a careless shrug of his shoulders, while she considered his words.
"Indeed, you are," she smiled, knowing that she had lost the verbal joust, for the moment.
"Prince Quentyn, let's move to Lord Leyton's solar for our discussions. Everything has been prepared," Mace spoke out, while Quentyn nodded.
Half an hour later, inside Leyton Hightower's solar, the group sat together to talk. In attendance were Quentyn, Oberyn, Mace, Leyton, Olenna, Archmaester Ebrose and Septon Barth.
"Now then, My Lords and Lady, we are gathered at this conclave to discuss matters of interest before the founding of the Southern Kingdom. The Citadel and the Faith have requested this council, so, I yield the floor to them," Leyton Hightower in his capacity as the host opened the discussion.
"Prince Quentyn, may I ask why you have limited your claim only to the Reach, the Dorne, and the Crownlands? Why have you not staked a claim for the Iron Throne itself? With your skills and the might of the Reach and Dorne combined, there are few who can stop you from doing so. Why do you limit yourself so?" Archmaester Ebrose asked the Young Prince, as everyone drew a deep breath while Olenna was irked. Maesters, so impatient to know the truth that they have the subtlety of a raging bull.
"Because it serves no purpose, and I have no intention of creating a flawed Kingdom, Archmaester," was the reply from the Prince, which stunned everyone.
"I beg your pardon, My Prince, but you believe conquering the Iron Throne would lead to a flawed Kingdom? How can that be? I fail to understand your logic," the poor Septon seemed outright flustered at the answer. Even Olenna was taken aback, while Ebrose sat up straighter and looked at the boy with a keen intensity.
"Interesting, most interesting! Would you care to elaborate?" the Archmaester asked, as everyone leaned forward to hear the answer.
"At this point, with the defeat I have dealt to the Lannister's, one can say that the Rebellion is at the end of its tether," Quentyn replied, as most of the members nodded at that point, "However, they are by no means defeated in totality."
"So?" asked Olenna in confusion, to which Quentyn smiled.
"When a Kingdom, or in this case, an alliance of Kingdoms come close their hour of demise; in this case if they are forced to fight a pitched battle of last resort with us, they will surely unleash a level of strength that far exceeds all expectations in an effort to fight back, if only to avoid total collapse. You have all seen it happen before at the battle of the Trident, where despite losing, the Royal Army inflicted hideous losses on the Rebellion. Only the fact that Robert killed Rhaegar personally ensured his victory, otherwise he would have lost. In other words, what would lie ahead in our future would be a series of atrocious wars, where blood will only be washed away by more blood. What comfort will our dreams of a prosperous kingdom be if at the end all we inherit is a kingdom of ashes?" Quentyn asked, as everyone took a deep breath while they looked at the boy in a new light.
"That is a rather idealistic view," Olenna pointed out, to which Quentyn nodded.
"Maybe so, then let me give you a practical one, My Lady. Assuming I was able to unify the entire kingdom by defeating the alliance, and claimed the Iron Throne, then it will still end in disaster. Do you know why?" he asked, to which Olenna seemed perturbed, while Ebrose nodded in agreement as his eyes now carried a hint of respect as he looked at the boy.
"I see that you understand, Archmaester. As the keeper of knowledge of Westeros, you are in a better position to explain this to others. Would you do the honors?" Quentyn spoke out, while everyone turned to look at the Archmaester.
"Yes, I too would like to hear this, Archmaester. If you would kindly indulge us," Oberyn spoke out, while Ebrose nodded.
"It is because the cultures of the kingdoms are too different. Each of the seven kingdoms possess different written characters, different talking patterns, scales and measurements, different faiths, cultural customs and laws, as well as values and schools of thought. From the old gods of the North and in parts of the Riverlands, to the Drowned God of the Ironborn, Andal Law, Rhoynar Law, Laws of the old gods, Laws of the Faith of Seven amongst others," the Archmaester explained while expressions of realization dawned upon everyone else.
"The followers of the old gods of the North are especially troublesome, as are the Ironborn. For in their provinces, their own faith is followed," Ebrose explained. "If you force a unified kingdom by conquest, then what will erupt will be a separate battle between the various cultures which make up the unified Kingdom. This is but one of the hurdles you will face, if you wish to impose your will upon the seven Kingdoms," the Archmaester finished, while Oberyn let out a deep breath. Even Olenna seemed troubled, while the Septon seemed rather riled.
"But the Targaryen's managed it, Archmaester," Septon Barth insisted with a rather sulky manner, while others shook their heads.
"The Targaryen's had dragons, Septon," Leyton gently chided. "They had the power to force their will upon Westeros due to their dragons, and the Kingdoms had no choice but to kneel in supplication. The dance broke their might, and once the dragons died, that's when the embers which have blown into this current rebellion were sown," Leyton finished, while others nodded.
"Indeed," Oberyn nodded, "and were it not for the Blackfyre rebellions, House Targaryen would have fallen sooner. The one thing that the Lords of Westeros hated more than kneeling to the Targaryen's were Targaryen bastards backed by Essos. Indeed, the Targaryen's tried to prevail by playing off the houses one against the other, but they were blessed more often with bad rulers than good ones who could not make it happen."
"Hmm…hmm," Ebrose nodded, "In fact, after the dance, the only decent Targaryen rulers the Kingdom had were Maekar and Aegon the unlikely."
"And the last time someone from the South tried to conquer the North without dragons, they ran into Theon stark," Quentyn pointed out, while Septon Barth seemed to tremble for a moment while everybody else became silent at that statement.
Even Olenna shuddered at that. It was a ballsy move, reminding the faith of how the Hungry Wolf had broken Andalos and the birthplace of the Faith.
"That is why you have claimed only the south," Mace exclaimed suddenly, as everyone turned to look at him.
"The Reach, Dorne, Crownlands, these are the places where only the faith is the strongest, and the cultural differences are not that severe as compared with the North or the Riverlands or even the Vale. The people share the same faith, and the other cultural differences are minor but negligible!" Mace explained as expressions of comprehension dawned upon everyone else.
"Indeed, collectively all these regions embody the cultural divide in Westeros and are seen as the South. So, I have chosen to lay claim only to one side. Besides, even if I were to press my claim, the aftermath of conquering the Iron Throne would leave Westeros so weakened that it would be ripe for invasion. By claiming only, the South, I shall create a stable Kingdom which though smaller than the one created by Aegon Targaryen will be far easier to consolidate and administer."
"Impressive, you have thought this well," the Archmaester observed, while Septon Barth seemed to deflate at learning that the Faith would not have royal patronage over the rest of Westeros anymore.
"You mentioned invasion? Who do you expect to attack us if not the other Kingdoms in Westeros?" Olenna asked after a moment's silence, to which others perked up.
"Indeed nephew, whatever are you speaking about?" Oberyn asked, to which Quentyn shook his head.
"As of now, I have only my suspicions, so that is not pertinent to this conversation. What I intend to say is that after I defeat Robert Baratheon," Quentyn spoke nonchalantly, while Olenna looked at him in amazement at such a declaration.
"After I defeat Robert Baratheon," Quentyn continued, "Westeros will be divided into two parts. I will control the Southern Kingdom, and I most likely believe that Eddard Stark will become the King of the Northern Kingdom comprising of the North, The Vale, The Riverlands and the Westerlands. He is the only leader in the Rebellion who is capable of holding those Kingdoms together. The Westerlands have no choice but to throw in their lot with the Rebellion to save themselves after their decimation, and we will have peace," Quentyn spoke out, while there were deep breaths among the other members in the room.
"You seem certain that this will happen," Olenna observed, while her mind was rapidly analyzing what this portended. It did not escape her notice that the boy had controlled the scope of the conversation since the beginning, and that none of them had been able to ask him what they wanted. All they had done was listen to what the boy intended to do.
"I have come to terms with Jon Arryn about this possibility," the Prince replied quietly, and that shook her to her core.
"You what?" Oberyn asked with a look of shock on his face, while Leyton and Mace seemed stupefied. The Archmaester seemed intrigued while the poor Septon seemed hopelessly out of place.
"Even Jon Arryn has come to realize that Robert Baratheon will never accept a plea of peace. As of now, neither side wants the war to continue anymore, but as long as Robert Baratheon lives, the war will not end. This was the price for the peace that Jon Arryn demanded. In the entirety of Westeros, with the death of Rhaegar Targaryen, there are now only two men alive who can kill Robert Baratheon in a war. One is Eddard Stark, and the other is myself," Quentyn spoke out while everyone looked at him in unflattering disbelief.
"And Jon Arryn of all people agreed to this?" Olenna asked in total shock as she looked at the boy. She was not the only one.
"He had no choice," was the brutal reply which sobered her quickly. The others in the room subtly looked at each other as a heavy atmosphere settled in the room after those words.
"You have not mentioned the Stormlands till now," Ebrose spoke out, as all eyes turned to him. "You have mentioned all the other Kingdoms, but you left out the Stormlands deliberately. I guess it was due to this?"
Quentyn nodded. "I intend to conquer the Stormlands completely and add those lands to Dorne. This will give Dorne more arable land, and more living space for its people. One Kingdom is easier to conquer and assimilate than five. I intend for Storm's End to be my capital. That is where I shall rule, and I will be building a new capital city around it. If I am to throw off the shackles of the Targaryen dynasty, then I will not have mine begin over its leftovers," Quentyn announced to a dazed group which looked at him with astonishment.
"Now," the Prince continued, "Let us discuss terms on how the Citadel and the Faith will fare in my new Kingdom," the King-to-be spoke out, while Olenna let out a deep breath knowing that she really was not prepared enough to deal with the boy. Not at all.
More and more, she began to doubt if she could convince the boy to take her daughter as a wife. He was too overbearing to approach directly. It would seem that she had to speak with Myriah Martell after all.