Chapter 3: Rise of the Seahorse
The need to see their timber brought ashore gave Lelouch leave to spend the night at Driftmark.
Two letters from Father arrived after dinner. The first formally ratified the pact and its terms with Lord Dylar. Three years they would have wood for gold, with the option to reaffirm it afterwards.
"Alarra, pack your things," Mother said. "You will join your brother on the morrow."
Alarra beamed. "I get to go visit Corwyn? Truly?"
Mother nodded, sparing a smile as her daughter skipped away.
"It is unlike Father to reverse his own decisions. What news?" Lelouch asked.
"The crown prince's eldest son is yet unwed," Mother said. "Your father has recently learned that Prince Aerys inherited King Aegon's venturing spirit."
It was well-known the king had squired for Ser Duncan the Tall in his youth. Of course, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was then just a mere hedge knight and their adventures took them all across the Seven Kingdoms. "Father seeks to culture Alarra. Give her some experience in the world, mayhaps give her an edge over other highborn girls when the time comes to woo the prince."
Mother nodded. "You have made your father proud, though he does not say it, Lelouch. He did not expect you would succeed so quickly with Lord Wendwater," Mother said, "and much as I will miss Eunice and Kiren, it was wise of you to let them stay."
"It seemed for the best," Lelouch said.
She hugged him tight. "Whatever will I do with my old self? All my children are soon to leave me and I am left alone on this barren rock!"
"Mother, please, this isn't Dragonstone. We actually do grow crops here." Lelouch hugged her back. "And you are not yet even forty; plenty more years to look forward to."
Mother sniffed.
"We will be back before you know it," Lelouch said. "I promise."
Before he could go to bed, Mother made him swear two oaths before Septa Kailsey, with Uncle Adamm as witness. First, that he not elope with some Dornish harlot. Second, that he bring her knitted wares safely to Oldtown.
As they walked, Uncle Adamm spoke. "You left my daughter at Waterflow Keep, away from family."
"She is not a bastard. Your wife's family is her family too," Lelouch said. "Unless?"
"She is Eunice's get," he said with a grimace. "Still, why did you do it?"
"They chose it for themselves. I did not ask them at the point of a sword, nor are they so weak-willed to bow to my every whim."
"You put the idea in their head. You asked them. I have known you since you were born and you do not do things without purpose," Uncle said.
"I did it to save them a measure of pain," Lelouch said. "You have brought a foreign woman to our home in the guise of teaching me cyvasse. It is a gift I have enjoyed to be sure, but let us not pretend for a second you did not have your own motives."
He bowed his head, whispering, "It was the honorable thing to do. She is with child."
"Which is why," Lelouch said, "you will not bring her on any of our voyages."
"She is not so far along-"
"I will keep your secret, but you must play your part, Uncle. How are we to hide this when you parade her in front of our men? They will notice her sickness, or the growing bulge, and they will whisper."
"I… understand."
"We can afford no distractions, not when the future of our house is at stake," Lelouch said.
That night, the boy dreamed of a green-haired witch.
On the morrow, the Velaryon clan departed save for Tarth's trueborn daughter and the unborn daughter of a Lysene whore.
-ZeroRequiem-
"See how it's shaped like an anvil?" Lelouch traced the cloud's outline to Alarra. "That means a storm's about to hammer us."
Alarra pouted. "Will that cause delay? I'd hate to miss Corwyn's nameday because of something so drab."
Lelouch turned to Lord Wells in askance.
"We're making good speed, my lord. We should be nestled comfortably in the Straits of Tarth before it causes issue," said Lord Wells of Evendim Ridge.
"Thank you, my lord," Lelouch said.
"Have you ever met Uncle Stephas?" Alarra asked.
He shook his head. "Mother said he visited us once when I was still little, but I don't remember much of him."
"I'm sure he's a good man," Alarra said with a firm nod. "He's our uncle."
Lelouch smiled despite himself. "I'm sure you're right."
Alarra leaned over the taffrails, squinting at a smidgen in the horizon. "I see suns and crescent moons! That must be Evenfall Hall!"
Captain Wells peered through his far-eye. "Lady Alarra speaks truly. House Tarth's sigil flies in the distance."
"It must be beautiful to see the sparkling blue seas from the Sapphire Isle. Mother called it 'striking'," Alarra said.
It was a close thing, but Captain Wells' prediction proved correct in the end. The Spine of Tarth, a series of mountains running down the middle of the island, shielded their fleet of three from the worst of the stormwinds. Without, they may have very well been blown of course or crashed into Shipbreaker's Bay.
A boy no older than eleven with hair like straw and dressed in liveries waited for them to come ashore.
"You must be our cousin Selwyn," Alarra said, bouncing up to him. She hugged him fierce before he could answer. "It's so nice to meet you! I'm Alarra, and over there's my brother Lelouch."
"Ahem, my lord father bids you welcome to Tarth, good cousins," Selwyn said, fidgeting from the contact.
"You'll have to forgive my sister," Lelouch said. "She's been excitable as of late."
Alarra waved him away. "Oh hush. You should be too! We're meeting family after all."
"If you would follow me?" Selwyn said.
"Lead the way," Alarra said.
Positioned on top of a hill that gave it a domineering view over the surrounding lowlands, it took a small hike to reach Evenfall Hall. The serpentine path provides good overlapping fields of fire, Lelouch noted. With a company of longbowmen on the crenulated walls and three sea-facing towers, any hostile force would suffer heavily while landing, and heavier still taking the high ground. Small wonder Tarth was often seized from the far end of the island.
Lord Stephas Tarth received them with his daughters before the castle gates, as was customary. Selwyn Tarth was, Lelouch realized, the youngest and only son of Lord Stephas' five children.
Alarra tugged at his sleeve as they received bread and salt. "Lelouch, you should give Uncle Stephas the thingie."
He sighed. "Normally I would wait, Lord Stephas, but alas, I am a slave to my young sister's whims."
"She takes after my sister," Lord Stephas said wistfully. "Let us do away with the formality. There is no need for such among kin."
Lelouch brought forward a wooden box. The sun and crescent moons of House Tarth popped out all along the sides of it and on the lid were their house words: How Bright We Shine. It was the work of many months by a grandfather whose grandson he'd been feeding throughout the winter.
Lord Stephas ran a hand along the grain of the box. "What fine craftsmanship," he said, before opening it. Inside rested six brooches - two golden suns for father and son, four silver crescents for the daughters. "I see my sister's hand in this."
"Mother has an eye for picking out jewelry," Lelouch said. "I've always been rather hopeless at it."
"Matters such as this are best left to women," said Lord Stephas. "And I have precious few more capable than Alysanne. Did you know she used to tell our goldsmiths how to work their craft?"
"She still does," Lelouch admitted.
"Ha! Come inside. There'll be plenty of time for tales over mulled wine."
Evenfall Hall was warm, and well-lit, holding the many colored banners of House Tarth's vassals. It reflected his mother's disposition, and Alarra's too truth be told. The differences with Castle Driftmark were stark and Lelouch's heart stirred.
"I could not help but notice your fine ships when we moored, Lord—"
"Call me Uncle," Lord Stephas said.
"—Uncle Stephas," Lelouch continued without missing a beat. "We Velaryons can appreciate, more than most, a proper fleet. The seas yield great bounties, if harnessed properly."
"Aye, they are war galleys of fine make, but I would not call what we possess a fleet. They are too few in number," Lord Stephas said.
Lelouch tilted his head. "Surely you jest, Uncle. I counted at least a score out there. Combined with the might of your vassals, you ought to have twice that number." About the same as Driftmark.
"I can count on thirty proper ships to the defence of Tarth," he said. "Perhaps thirty more, with time to arm some merchant vessels."
So few, Lelouch thought. Driftmark had its own problems with building up a large fleet. The lack of wood was most crucial, and being thinly peopled a close second. Yet, Tarth was nearly thrice as large as Driftmark, with many glittering lakes and high meadows and shadowed vales. Surely they would have more woods and people to spare?
"It's because of the stormwinds, boy," Lord Stephas said. "The Spine protects the western half of Tarth from harsh weather, but of the eastern half nothing can be said. If the Coldfalls or Highwoods tried, they'd see the storms break them. Half my domain is unfit for shipworks, and the other half won't beggar themselves."
It all came back to coin in the end.
When stormland winds finished singing their song, Selwyn stood. "Good cousins, come join me at the walls."
"Certainly," Alarra said, quick to stand.
"Whatever for?" Lelouch asked, letting his sister drag him along.
"When our forefathers raised this keep, they struggled with a name," Selwyn said. "For what name could capture the beauty that is Tarth? Brightkeep, Jewelstone, the Sapphire Holdfast, all these were considered. But as they spoke, the sun set and all grew quiet at the vision. They named it Evenfall, for they beheld a sight second to none."
"They were wrong though," Selwyn continued. "For they saw only the sunset of a normal day."
They reached the walls. Alarra gasped. The sky was an explosion of color that seeped through the Spine, and the sun itself was framed perfectly by twin peaks.
"The prettiest sunsets come after a storm. See how bright we shine."
-ZeroRequiem-
"Come on, keep your knees bent!" Uncle hollered as he circled around Donnall and Lelouch, twirling his pretend spear as he went. The ship lurched and Lelouch caught himself before he stumbled. "Footwork! If this were a fight with pirates, you'd be dead twice over."
Not a day since Tarth had passed without spar. Alarra watched them from the side, munching happily on another blood orange that they'd bought while in Plankytown.
Uncle walked forward, and Donnall met his advance with his arming sword and buckler. Lelouch circled to the right, armed with his own staff.
"A pirate that's survived twenty years of hard fighting?" Donnall asked.
"You could be—" Uncle poked high, forcing Donnall to shove the tip away with his buckler, even as he parried a thrust from Lelouch with the butt. "—facing Samarro Saan. Good, you're learning not to let your guard down. Pay attention to weapons, not words."
"I thought you said he was busy buggering the Volantene waters?" Lelouch said.
"He's a pirate," Uncle said, repositioning to try and align the two boys relative to himself. It didn't work. "Saan goes where he wants, when he wants. Besides, last I heard of him was from three months past. Saan could be anywhere now."
Then he struck against Lelouch, moving fast and hitting fierce. "Dead, dead, dead," Uncle said, punctuating each word with a harsh jab to his chest. Uncle Adamm was a cunt when without cunt.
That's going to bruise, Lelouch thought as he picked himself up.
Donnall did not last much longer, through some maneuver both had lost their weapons, but Uncle had a knife and his cousin did not.
"In a real fight—"
"Ha! My son thinks he knows war, because he's fifteen."
Donnall bristled. "Ser Morren is a deft hand with the sword."
"For fighting on solid ground, his stances and drills will serve you well." Uncle grinned. "This is the sea, and she's a harsh bitch this one. Won't even give you the time of day. What you need now is application."
"Spears," Donnall spat, "are a commoner's weapon and knives a brigand's."
Uncle quirked his brow. "You could call a man that."
"You'd call them elsewise?"
"I'd call them alive." Uncle rested his staff against his shoulder. "Single combat is simple: gut the other man before he guts you. The longer your stick, the longer your reach, and the quicker you can kill him. Shall we keep going?"
"Oh, none of that now, Uncle," Alarra said, pointing to the shore. "You've left them enough bruises for today, and besides, we're almost at Oldtown. They have to make themselves presentable."
Towering above all else, the Hightower was visible before the shoreline was. Taller even than the Wall, it protruded the skies, beyond imagination and almost as if in defiance of the gods. Then came the whispers. Lelouch did not know when it began, only that the sound of rushing water was all at once everywhere.
Finally, it came into sight. Situated where the Honeywine River widened into the Bay of Whispering Sound was Oldtown.
"Quite the sight, isn't it?" Uncle said.
"It's easy to see why Lomas Longstrider named it a wonder," Lelouch said, still peering at the Hightower. "Maester Banneth says as many people live here as all the levies of the Seven Kingdoms put together." Four hundred thousand souls—it was a difficult number to truly grasp in one's head. Hull had but a fraction, and Spicetown at its height could not claim half that number.
"King's Landing has more people," Donnall said.
"Aye, but Oldtown is larger and, more importantly, wealthier," Uncle said.
Disembarking by the wharves was an experience in itself. Men of every city could be found here, from Summer Islander tradesmen to YiTish scholars.
"Spices! Cinnamon!"
"Myrish pies! Get your Myrish pies here!"
"Whalebone! Fish oil!"
"Keep together!" Uncle bellowed, and their men-at-arms tightened into a ring around them. "Follow the sights and sounds of this labyrinth too keenly and you'll starve before we can find you again." It was slow work to move against the press of the crowd, but eventually they managed to force a path out of the bustling wharves.
Alarra sniffed. "It smells nicer here than the sweetwater you gave Lord Wendwater," she said with wide eyes. The cobblestone great streets basked in the heady aroma of fruit and flowers. Even the narrowest back alleys smelled more of fresh rain than filth.
And the shops too! Through the windows, Lelouch could see the wares they held, of finer make than any he'd ever seen. That Driftmark made any claim to being a port of trade was a farce.
"Where do we go from here?" Donnall asked as they reached the end of a street that sold only glittering, golden things.
Uncle pointed to the monument that touched the sky. "The Hightower lights the way."
Though they had the wonder to orient themselves with, it didn't make navigating the wynds and crookback streets easy. Several times they entered an alley only to find their path barred by houses or walls. It was only with the directions of a passing guardsman that they made progress.
"Small wonder the Gardener Kings of old could not take the Hightower," Lelouch said as they stood on unadorned black stone that served as a base for the monolithic structure. "Half the army would be lost trying to find a path through the city, and the other half while climbing its steps."
"Brother! Sister! You made it," Corwyn said, running down the steps and accompanied by a broad-chested man. When Lelouch last saw him, Corwyn was a head shorter. It seemed the Hightower had lent his brother some height, for Corwyn was nearly as tall as him despite being two years younger.
"Corwyn!" Alarra squealed as they hugged.
Corwyn turned to his companion. "Ser Leyton, may I introduce my family?"
"Oh I know who these are. The clever one and the sweet one," Leyton said, nodding to Lelouch and Alarra respectively. "That leaves your uncle and his son."
"You'll have to forgive my lord father for not coming himself. The steps can be deceptively difficult for a man his age," Leyton continued. A servant approached with a basket. "Please, be welcome."
Even the bread and salt here is better, Lelouch thought while chewing.
After a round of introductions with the Hightower household, Ser Leyton granted Corwyn leave for the afternoon. "There's still plenty of sun out and you've family today. Armor polishing and sword practice can wait."
Oldtown was the gateway to the hinterlands and the vast bounty of the Reach through the Honeywine. A city unlike any other, it housed the Citadel and the Starry Sept and the Bank of Oldtown.
"Anything that exists can be found here. What would you like to see first?" Corwyn asked.
"Perhaps we should just wander. There are many sights to the city that even adrift we ought to come across some interesting spectacles," Lelouch said. "It has been a year and some months since we last saw each other. How is life treating you here?"
"The Hightowers have been kind to me and Ser Leyton must be the finest knight in all the Seven Kingdoms," Corwyn said. "He unhorses every man he jousts with and is without equal in the melee when wielding Vigilance."
"Even greater than Duncan the Tall?" Lelouch asked.
Corwyn looked thoughtful. "Perhaps. All I can say is the Reach has many knights, and I have never seen him beaten. How is our mother?"
"She misses you terribly," Alarra said.
"Which reminds me," Lelouch said, "there are scarves and mittens for you when we get back. Not that I know what you'd use it for. I don't suppose the bite of winter reaches this far south?"
"One hardly notices the cold here," Corwyn said, "but I appreciate the gift anyway. It's comforting to have something from home. What about our father? Has his health improved?"
"He still needed his cane when we saw him last," Lelouch said.
"It must be the airs," Corwyn said. "King's Landing could learn a thing or two about how a city ought to be built."
Lelouch turned to Alarra. "Our brother has been ensnared by the charms of Oldtown and Reachmen dreams. Does he still remember humble Driftmark, I wonder?"
"Driftmark will always be my home," Corwyn said, "but here, the songs come alive. All knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining. I would be a liar if I said I would not miss it when I leave."
"Then I hope I might recreate a glimpse of this place in Driftmark," Lelouch said. Then, he placed a hand on Corwyn's shoulder. "Driftmark is emptier without you, Brother."
"I have missed you too."
Alarra pouted.
Corwyn grinned. "I've missed both of you," he amended.
-ZeroRequiem-
Lelouch judged the distance to be two hundred and forty yards to the straw target, falling just short of a yew longbow's furthest range.
"Ah, the clever Seahorse," Ser Leyton said, carrying a white bow of weirwood make. "I hope you enjoyed your outing to the city yesterday?"
"Ser Leyton," Lelouch greeted and drew his bow. "The city is a wonderful testament to the long and wise rule of your house. Truly, Oldtown is without equal in the known world."
"You've got a silvertongue on you," Leyton said with a smile.
Lelouch released. Bull's eye.
"Quite the shot," Leyton said and promptly landed one of his own. "You must be quite the hunter."
"Better than some, worse than others. I must admit, I've only ever hunted small game. Rabbits, birds, and the like. Driftmark does not have the woods for larger prey," Lelouch said, retreating six paces from the target. Loose. Hit.
Leyton matched him step for step. "You are being modest. I know men twice your age who could not shoot half as well as you just did." He loosed, sending the fir shaft straight into his victim's heart.
"It is easier when the thing you're shooting at does not move," Lelouch said. Six more paces. Two hundred and fifty yards.
Thwack!
"My brother speaks highly of you," Lelouch said as the knight aimed.
"What does he say?"
"That you are unbeaten in the joust and melee," Lelouch said. "He forgot to mention your skill with the bow."
He grinned. "I do not shoot oft in his presence."
"And the tales of chivalry make no mention of knights that can fell a man from two hundred yards."
"That too," Leyton said, before handing him the weirwood bow. "Shall we keep going?"
"I've never handled one of these before," Lelouch said, taking a moment to appreciate its sheen. "Do you consider yourself a betting man?"
"Already trying to part me from my bow?"
"I wouldn't dream of it, ser," Lelouch said, setting himself at three hundred yards. Shooting was more technique than strength, but at this range he'd be straining his muscles. "If I can best you, will you lend me half an hour of your time?"
Leyton arched a brow. "If you make that shot, you can have the full hour."
Breathe. Compensate for the light south-easterly breeze. Trust your shot… and loose.
Leyton raised his hands in surrender. "To the victor goes the spoils. I am at your service, Clever Seahorse."
"My thanks, Ser Leyton. If you would accompany me to the Citadel, I'd like to be cleverer still."
Unlike the Hightower on Battle Isle, the Citadel was too sprawling a complex to be situated in a single island alone. Instead, it straddled both sides of the Honeywine, with arching stone bridges to keep its series of towers and domes connected. A pair of green statues flanked its gates; with the bodies of lions, the wings of eagles, and the tails of serpents. One had the face of a man, the other a woman.
Just inside the gates was the Scribe's Hearth where a line of Oldtown's denizens had formed. Lines were for plebians.
"Ser Leyton!" the acolyte manning the booth squeaked. "How may the Citadel assist you today?"
Leyton gestured to Lelouch.
"Good morning," Lelouch said. "I'm looking for a maester with multiple links of lead and iron. Would you happen to know anyone?"
"Archmaester Metselen. I can see if he's available."
Lelouch smiled pleasantly. "That would be wonderful. Thank you."
"You didn't need me," Leyton said. "You needed the respect of House Hightower."
"By association. There are fewer ways to be taken seriously by the maesters, and none I have the patience for," Lelouch said.
"So iron is warcraft, but what does lead signify?"
"Architecture," Lelouch said.
"A peculiar combination to ask for," Leyton said. "I'd have thought cobalt would be of greater interest for a Velaryon."
"What can I say? My interests are eclectic. Besides, shipworks I can learn from the maester at Driftmark."
Archmaester Metselen supported a hardwood staff and a limp, though he looked not a half decade over forty. He was clean shaven and with more jingling links on his chain than Lelouch had ever seen on a single man.
"Ser Leyton," the Archmaester said, "and judging by the eyes, this must be your Velaryon squire?"
"My squire's older brother actually. Lelouch Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark," Leyton said.
Metselen's hard grey eyes rested on Lelouch. "What can I do for you, my lord?"
"It's an honor to meet you, Archmaester Metselen. I was hoping to pick your mind on matters of iron and lead," Lelouch said.
"You wish to learn about mangonels?" the Archmaester asked.
"Castles," Lelouch corrected, "though I'd welcome your thoughts on siegecraft too, if we have time to spare."
"That," Metselen said, "is a strange request. But I do not oft get lordlings to come see me personally, or with such esteemed company."
"It seems you have much to discuss," Leyton said. "I shall take my leave."
"Thank you, Ser Leyton. Your presence has been most helpful," Lelouch said.
"I'm sure you'd have managed without me," Leyton said, before leaving.
"So castles, what of it?" Metselen asked.
"I'd like to build one, or rebuild one to be more accurate. Are you familiar with the castle High Tide?"
"I know that it burned down over a century ago, which is why you should never build keeps purely from wood, even if it's weirwood," Metselen said. "You are aware you'll need a license to crenellate from the king?"
"I am," Lelouch said.
"Not easy to come by, those," Metselen said. "I've held the lead rod for ten years, you know, and never supervised the construction of so much as a holdfast. No work I can point to, save my students. I wonder why I should humor you."
"What have you to lose but time?"
"When you get to my age, there's nothing worth quite as much as time. What have I to gain?"
"How about a legacy?" Lelouch asked. "If you do this, I shall name a tower or some section in your honor."
His eyes glinted with amusement. "I suppose we best make this fantasy castle of yours a monument that can last the ages then."
-ZeroRequiem-
Corwyn's nameday came and went.
The Hightowers were kind enough to throw a small feast in his honor, and Lelouch had ordered some caskets of Arbor gold brought out for the occasion. It was the least they could do in the face of Ser Leyton's generosity.
Besides, they had an abundance of wine on their ships after their stop with the Redwynes. The famed Tyroshi purple dyes they traded it for were in short supply recently due to an increase of pirate raids in the narrow sea. The corsairs were organizing around a figure they called the Old Mother.
A dim name for a pirate, and not one that inspired fear.
Still, it was quite fortunate as it allowed them a stronger position to trade from then might otherwise be possible.
As for Archmaester Metselen, he showed his years of learning in coming up with a blueprint for High Tide. The man had ideas Lelouch had never even thought of, like stone barriers out at sea to create a safe harbor where there was none. The sketch he took home was half done, but Metselen had assured him it was sufficient to begin with, and there would be room to expand as needed.
Three weeks passed them in the blink of an eye.
His expedition was no stream of spice and silk like Corlys Velaryon's had been, but it was a moderate success. Crucially, it afforded him a voice, though tiny, on his father's regency council.
"Our first order of business?" Lelouch asked.
"Lord Velaryon has requested your sister be sent to King's Landing to serve as Princess Rhaella's lady-in-waiting," Maester Banneth said.
And to catch Prince Aerys' eye, Lelouch thought. "An honorable post."
"And a familiar face ought to do my husband some good," Mother said with a nod.
"Lord Velaryon has also bid us to build more ships," Maester Banneth said. "And not simple tradeships, he was specific in stating vessels fit for war."
"How many ships?" Uncle asked.
"The Seahorse Fleet is to number sixty-five," Maester Banneth said, "so another fifteen ships on top of what we have."
"Even rushed, that'll be a year's work," said Ser Morren, the master-at-arms. "Forgive me for saying this, Lady Velaryon, but I do not believe we have the coin to spend on this."
"It is my lord husband's command, so our course is set. All that remains to be discussed is how best to see it done," Mother said. "It will be difficult, but not impossible now that the Wendwaters provide us timber."
Ser Morren tilted his head towards Lelouch.
"Hull is our only port capable of building war galleys," Lelouch said. "I can ride there on the morrow with some men and have word put out that we're in need of shipwrights. As for how to pay them, does anyone have any ideas?"
It all came back to coin in the end.
-ZeroRequiem-
On a good horse, a man could travel the full length of Driftmark's shores in a day. But without the proper tools, it was difficult to know how large his domains were exactly or how many men looked to Castle Driftmark for leadership.
Maester Banneth hypothesized that the island had formed, much like Dragonstone, from the volcanic spew of Dragonmont. It was not beyond the realm of possibility—the Targaryen sigil was visible from the northeastern tip of the island, and vice versa. It would certainly explain the fertility of the island, though their size limited them from becoming a true breadbasket like the Reach or the riverlands. Still, that and plentiful fish meant they were not at the complete mercy of others for food during winter.
"There is good and bad to everything, my lord," Mysaria said. "The island is small, yes, but with it comes control."
He was playing cyvasse without both of his light horses today. "Explain."
The first move of the game was her heavy horse, as always. "From what you've told me of these gardens and sands-"
"Highgarden and Dorne."
"-they seem to control much land. Yet, there are those among their lords who could and would defy if it suited them. Can any one of your lesser lords do the same?"
"No," Lelouch said. "If many of them banded together perhaps."
"But that is less likely. In the Free Cities, it is the same. Great magisters have land and slaves and ships, but must rely on their overseers and captains to control much of it," Mysaria said, considering her move and settling on a waiting one. "Lesser magisters have less, but know what goes on daily in their manse."
"You may have a point," Lelouch said. "How far along are you?"
"Two and a half months," she said proudly. "It will be a boy, I think."
Lelouch took her trebuchet. "The child will be a bastard. You know that my uncle cannot legitimize him."
"I know," Mysaria said, "but he will be born free, and that is more than I can say for myself."
Lelouch considered the board. "Have you thought of what to name him or her?"
"I had hoped Adamm would name him," she said. "I am not so familiar with Westerosi names."
"Names are important," Lelouch said. "Do you know the history behind yours?"
"Some of it, not in great detail, but enough to know my namesake was not a pleasant woman for your people," Mysaria said. "In Lys, many magisters and brothel owners will name a portion of their slaves after figures of history or lore, to help those men who prefer stories fantasize."
Men like Uncle. "Tell me about Lys."
"It is a beautiful city, my lord, with many palms, the sweetest pineapples you'll ever taste, and—"
"Speak of Lys like a Lyseni would, in the tongue of Valyria," Lelouch said.
"You speak Valyrian?" she asked, quirking her brow.
"I know the odd phrase, like qogralbar ao."
She snorted. "That was also the first phrase I heard your Uncle utter. Why is it men must be so crude?"
"It's important to be able to express your displeasure to anyone at any time," Lelouch said. "Now, speak."
"You would not understand," Mysaria said.
"Try me," Lelouch said.
So she spoke, and he listened, and they played.
AN: For those of you who want a map of the Stepstones, or to know the full rules of Cyvasse my story uses, you may find these things threadmarked under Informational on Spacebattles.