Chapter 18: Signals
Tywin stooped over the cyvasse board. Finally, he urged his dragon token forward over a mountain tile and deep into Lelouch's side of the board. "Death."
Lelouch captured it without blinking. As he expected, Tywin moved his light horse forward, again threatening to capture his king.
"Death," Tywin repeated.
What followed would be a series of bloody exchanges, but Lelouch would come out with a slightly better position, even if he was down a few pieces. "I saw the silent sisters cut out Emmon Frey's heart this morning," Lelouch said.
"His bones will be returned to his family, but his heart shall remain part of our Sacred Struggle," Tywin said as he removed a black spearman from the board. "He'll be shipped off with the others in a week's time. Will you be going with the crownlanders to see the bodies off?"
With Blackfyre's allies menacing the narrow sea, those were the only two ports relatively safe at the moment. The fallen highborn hailing from the Reach, and the stormlands were being shipped off to Weeping Town along Cape Wrath.
"I will," Lelouch said. There was little to do but wait in the days following their withdrawal to Bloodstone.
Besides, he had his own bodies to deliver other than Lord Chaseman's. Most of the other lords had opted to hold a mass burial for their levies in Essos, but he'd not been among their number. To be left in a hole dug from foreign soil… it felt poor recompense to those men who'd saved them from utter defeat. The least he could do was bring their bones to Driftmark, back to their families, and while he was there he might as well pay his respects to the other crownland lords who now would fight under him.
Lelouch maneuvered his own dragon into the heart of his formation with nary a trebuchet in range. "Death in three."
"Agreed," Tywin said, eyes remaining alight. "Shall we go another round?"
"I won't turn down another chance at pummeling you," Lelouch said as he placed down the screen to divide the board and obscure their initial setups from each other.
"Because that's such a feat when I've only been playing for a few days," Tywin said with a roll of his eyes. "I hear Lord Baratheon's to be given a command once he returns from Weeping Town with freshly raised levies."
He needed a chance to redeem himself or his vassals would chafe. Lelouch had argued as much when he'd met with Ser Gerold and Prince Aerys in private counsel. "Should all go according to plan, his return will coincide with Prince Lewyn and Lord Stark's pacification of the Veiled Isle. They'll collapse on the Grey Gallows while Ser Gerold leads the rest of the lords towards Scarwood."
That would bring the entirety of the northern Stepstones under their control with the exception of Tyrosh's outpost in Pryr. The five islands that composed the southern Stepstones would be brought to heel afterwards, though details on that were sparse at the moment.
"The Dornish must be ecstatic, having to take orders from a stormlander just when they thought themselves free from that yoke," Tywin said with a hint of a smile.
"Having a reachman in charge is hardly any better in their eyes," Lelouch said. "It's why Ser Gerold sent them to take the Veiled Isle."
Named for the frequent fogs and mists that descended on it, the Veiled Isle was the second largest of the Stepstones' fourteen major islands, and at various points in history had even paid homage to Sunspear given its proximity. It would not be the first time a Dornish prince petitioned to have it brought under the fold of the Seven Kingdoms. As luck would have it, they were on a protracted campaign where leaving it unoccupied was a critical vulnerability to their supply lines.
"What of Blackfyre then?" Tywin asked, switching around a few of his pieces and tiles. "He could very well strike at our flank while we drive out the pirates."
"Not without a fleet, and none of those have been spotted anywhere near him," Lelouch said. The vigorous "patrols" of the privateers and the ironborn reported no major movements at sea from either Tyrosh or the southern Stepstones, where they suspected Old Mother to be basing her raids from. "If they try anything, our eastern garrisons will buy us ample time to muster for a counteroffensive."
Tywin nodded. "Ready to begin?"
Lelouch removed the divider and took a moment to study the Lannister's unbalanced formation. His center was held by spearmen, trebuchets, and crossbows—an orthodox enough of a composition, but it was his left wing that gave Lelouch pause. Nothing but rabble there, while his right teemed with the most mobile of units.
It smelled of a trap, and the rabble were bait.
"I give you the first move," Lelouch said.
"What have you been tasked with while the pirates are pacified?" Tywin asked.
"What makes you think I've been deemed important enough?" Lelouch asked.
Tywin snorted as he pushed his spear to crush Lelouch's forays into a river tile. "Are we pretending that your star has not been on the rise since the Battle of Naqes?" Tywin asked. "It has not slipped my notice that your tent has been an unceasing host to many lords these past nights. What reason for that if you're to meekly follow Lord Commander Hightower?"
"To ply them with wine in the hopes of securing myself a fair maiden?"
"Lord Buckwell has no daughters, and the Massey girl has crooked teeth," said Tywin dryly. "When we've won, you'll have your pick from Old Town to Winterfell."
"I'm to stay alive with half my ships. Too important to die, I'm told," Lelouch said, letting him work the rest out while he repositioned his elephant atop a hill.
"They want half your fleet to help convoy the main offensives," Tywin said, pausing for a moment to consider the implications.
Lelouch tilted his head in assent. "I've some eighty-five hundred men altogether, if you include my auxiliaries. Hardly enough to man ninety ships. I won't have much use for cogs anyway."
"But with only half… they can't mean for you to challenge the Tyroshi navy. They want you to pin it down, keeping it occupied so long as you've a force at sea that could threaten their city."
"And if the opportunity should present itself, seize or deny their harbor at Pryr," Lelouch said, glancing at the clouds and making a quick mental note of their coloring. "It shouldn't be a problem so long as I don't fall prey to the winter storms or take an unfavorable engagement." And I'll finally be able to move as I please.
"I don't suppose they'll lend you some more alchemists?" Tywin asked.
Lelouch shook his head. "Setting things on fire has become a rather bad habit of mine. I've been trying to curb it."
The days passed slowly. The silent sisters continued to work tirelessly in the drab grey cowls to prepare the bodies for the voyage home, but there was not a house from the affected regions who didn't have some father or cousin or son brought low. There were hundreds of dead and only a handful of sisters.
Lelouch had ordered his dead smallfolk be stuffed in sealed barrels and sent off in advance on a fast cog as soon as the weather permitted. He didn't need more men falling ill, or the stench of the dead. Lelouch almost wished the winter was colder, so the bodies would freeze instead of slowly bake.
It was another week before of cloud watching before Lelouch finally departed with the bodies bound for Duskendale. He left his cousin Kiren's uncle, Lord Dylar Wendwater, in command while Captain Bluebeard and Lord Wells served as his advisors. Given the good will between them since Lelouch last visited Waterflow Keep and their familial ties, there was little chance Lord Dylar would usurp or undermine his authority.
That Dylar might lose his fleet to a storm or battle was even less likely. The man was not overly fond of risk, and wouldn't surprise him pleasantly or otherwise.
What did surprise Lelouch was Tywin's presence besides the embalmed corpse of Emmon Frey on the Seafyre.
"I didn't think you liked him enough to go through the trouble of accompanying his body," Lelouch said.
"I like him more now," Tywin said, amusement dancing in his pale green eyes flecked with gold.
Dead, that is, Lelouch finished in his head.
"Besides," Tywin continued, "he was married to a Lannister. That means something, even if he didn't."
"Just as well that you came. My cousin Donnall doesn't quite pose the challenge you do in cyvasse, and a week passes slowly on a ship."
"Cloud watching not doing it for you anymore?" Tywin drawled.
"I don't do that for pleasure," Lelouch said and left it at that.
As they sat down for a game, Tywin said, "My sister will be coming to Duskendale. If we should get the chance, I'd like to introduce you to her."
"I'd be delighted," Lelouch said.
It was a clever move from the Lannsiters if they sought to delay her from being wed to another of Lord Walder's sons or grandsons. It would be most improper for a grieving widow to be betrothed when her husband's body was not even six feet deep.
-ZeroRequiem-
There were Seven Kingdoms before Aegon the Conqueror unified Westeros, but for a time the Darklyns were a close eighth with their power reaching as far as Crackclaw Point and enveloping nearly the whole of the crownlands. It was from this large port town off the coast of Blackwater Bay that House Darklyn ruled.
Even now, with the loss of its lord and levies, it was a mistake to think Duskendale weak. Guardsmen wielding spears and wearing chainmail hauberk patrolled the strong walls and cobbled streets of the town.
The new Lord of Duskendale was Denys Darklyn, a fresh-faced youth of fifteen years. Young and inexperienced and not particularly remarkable, Lelouch did not doubt that in the coming years, he'd be his chief competitor to preeminence in the crownlands, their Targaryen overlords aside. Duskendale housed enough people to be called a city, if only the Iron Throne would grant them a charter. That afforded them the men and the coin to shrug off losses a lesser house would find ruinous.
"We thank you for your hospitality, Lord Denys," Lelouch said as he ate the bread and salt. "I'm sorry for the loss of your father. He was a fine man, and brave beyond doubt."
"Thank you, Lord Lelouch," Denys said meekly. "Be welcome to Duskendale. We've a feast prepared for tonight, to honor the fallen. Would my lords be so kind as to join me at the high table?"
"Certainly," Tywin said. "Has my sister arrived perchance?"
Denys' ears turned red. "Lady Genna arrived last night, and Lord Walder the night before last. If my lords would follow me to the castle."
Overlooking the port was the Dun Fort, a squat square stone castle with big drum towers. From that height, Lelouch imagined a trained bowman could rain seven hells on any man coming by sea.
In the castle's courtyard waited a woman who shared Tywin's golden hair. Where Joanna was slender, Genna was shapely, and the tight fitting bodice that struggled against her chest suited her well. She looked every bit the grieving widow in a fine black woolen dress that was more at home in the riverlands than on her. On another occasion, it would have been scandalous for a Lannister to be seen wearing something so cheap.
But here and now? It was perfect.
Besides her was a balding man in his early fifties. There was something of the vulture about Lord Walder Frey, and rather more of the weasel.
So it begins, Lelouch thought as Tywin and Walder locked eyes. Denys had wisely made himself scarce.
"I see you've roused yourself from your seat," Tywin said with visible contempt.
"My son is dead," Walder said. "He went to fight in your war."
"It was the king's war, my lord, and Ser Emmon fought with distinction while with Lord Tywin. He was part of the charge that checked the Golden Company's advance," Lelouch said.
"Was he now? I always knew he'd make a fine knight, Emmon," Walder said unconvincingly. The man raked him over with his eyes. "Who might you be?"
"Lelouch Velaryon," Genna answered. "The master of ship's son and heir, and newly risen commander of the crownland levies. Do your sons not write to you of news from the front, good-father?"
Walder ignored her. "Heh, a commander are you? I've sons old enough to be your father."
"A shame none of them were chosen to lead then. Perhaps if they'd had more than a hundred swords to their name," Lelouch said with a smile.
"A hundred is plenty. Will turning more boys into corpses help us any?" Walder asked, before turning to Tywin. "My son is dead."
"You've a dozen more."
"Aye, a dozen more, and none of them with a Lannister wife," Walder said.
"My father has no more daughters to offer the likes of you," Tywin said, narrowing his eyes.
Walder tilted his head towards Genna. "I'm not asking for another daughter. Heh, this one's still young. She'll do fine by my boy Aenys."
"My sister is grieving. It would be improper to wed her off so soon," Tywin said.
"Grieving, is she?" Walder asked, peering at Genna's face or perhaps at her ample bosom. It was difficult to say with his eyes angled as they were.
"Oh yes, my lord," Genna said, her eyes watering. "I've grown ever so fond of Emmon."
Grown fond like Tywin had? Lelouch thought. But could anyone say she was not grieving after she'd travelled hundreds of miles to see the body off, dressed in clothes lowly for a Lanniser?
"Did you now? You'll grow fond of another of my son's then. Nothing like a good lay to make your forget about the dead."
"You would know best, my lord," Genna said with a thoughtful look. "Only not so soon. It wouldn't be right to forget dear Emmon so quickly after his passing."
"Not so soon, but you might come visit your poor good-father at the Twins. We'll grieve him together, like family should. You never did get to meet all your good-brothers and nephews, heh."
"I'd be delighted to meet them at Casterly Rock. I've grown terribly used to my luxuries, I'm afraid," Genna answered. "I'm sure father won't mind me having a few guests."
"He most certainly won't," Tywin said, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword. "In fact, it might even be arranged before I depart. I've the men to spare for an escort."
"Hmph. That won't be necessary," Walder said before hobbling off.
Once he was out of earshot, Genna sighed and hugged her brother. "Speaking to that man is exhausting."
"You did well," Tywin said, returning her embrace.
Genna pulled away and looked at Lelouch. Offering her hand to him, she said, "I suppose I should thank you for taking such good care of my brother, Lord Lelouch. He tells me you've been a steadfast companion of his."
"If we're keeping track, he did save my life," Lelouch said, before bringing the back of her smooth hand to his lips. "It's my pleasure to meet you, Lady Genna."
"If you'll both excuse me, I must take my leave and prepare for tonight's feast," Tywin said, leaving the two of them be.
She extricated her hand from his. "You've made quite a name for yourself."
"You have me at a disadvantage, my lady. I fear Tywin has spoken more about me than you," Lelouch said.
"Well of course, it's important to keep in touch with family. Haven't you a brother to write to you?" she asked.
"No, not one that knows you."
"Neither do I."
A brother that knows you or that writes to you? Tywin was only ten when his father had sent him to King's Landing for speaking out against the same marriage they'd nipped. Lelouch thought of Corwyn, and how little he'd seen of him after he was sent to squire. Now nearly a man grown and he was more at ease on a horse with lance in hand than on a ship.
Had he ever really known me though? Who I used to be in my dreams? "I know how that feels," Lelouch said.
"Don't mistake my words, I do love him." Genna Lannister wielded her courtesies like Tywin his armor, but in that moment she seemed uncertain. Vulnerable. "Every little girl needs a big brother to protect her, and Tywin was big even when he was little."
He thought of Alarra, and grimaced. "I hope to see you at the feast tonight."
"I don't imagine the high table will be large enough to hide us from each other," she answered.
As they parted ways, Lelouch was led to his own room by the manservants Denys had tasked to wait on him. His was a snug apartment, but richly decorated with a Myrish carpet and exquisite Qohorik wood carvings. The window by the southern wall overlooked the courtyard. All throughout the afternoon women, girls, and young boys continued to trickle in from Claw Isle to Hayford.
As the sun set, he found himself in the Great Hall of Dun Fort, a spacious room fit to host the lords and ladies of two whole regions. Tywin he spotted further down the table, pointedly ignoring old Walder seated next to him. Behind the high table hung the banners of all the houses in attendance, and most prominent of all was the black-and-yellow diamonds besides seven white shields on a strip of red.
"The argent shields are to honor the Darkrobin," Denys explained to Genna as a freshly baked white sweetloaf fit for the king's table was served alongside a chicken stuffed with grapes, leeks, and a dozen other spices, "and all those in my family that followed after him. No other house has had as many sons serve in the Kingsguard."
"How splendid," Genna said. "Wouldn't you agree, Lord Lelouch?"
Abruptly, he swallowed a slice of venison tenderloin that went surprisingly well with the custard tart colored a bright saffron yellow. "House Darklyn's service to the Iron Throne is most commendable."
Denys beamed at him. "Your own prowess on the field have reached my ears, my lord. You simply must share some of your stories. If not for the war, I would almost wish a storm come to pass just so we could keep you longer."
"A storm?" Genna asked. "I thought the narrow sea was calmer during the winter as opposed to the fall?"
"In a few months when spring arrives, it will be smooth enough to rock a cradle," Lelouch said. "But winter storms are always fierce, and winter has not yet wholly let go. This late into the season, some will still form."
"Then Lord Denys has the right of it. Perhaps you might recount one of your fights for us," Genna said.
"Like the Battle of Seafyre," Denys said earnestly. "Maester Derek tells me it is one of the greatest victories at sea in history."
Lelouch sipped his Arbor Gold, and cleared his throat. "I wouldn't want to bore my lady with the details."
"Oh, far from it. Spare no details, I'd be delighted to hear your account," she said.
Nevertheless, Lelouch did his best summarizing the battle with Samarro Saan and the Tyroshi. A comprehensive after action report filled with supply counts and maneuvering would be lost on them and seem quite dull. As he finished, he said, "If I'm being honest, it involved a lot of waiting."
"Waiting?" Denys asked with a frown.
Lelouch nodded. "Waiting to set up camps and siegeworks. Marching, which is really just walking while waiting to get to the battlefield. Waiting for the right moment to strike. All battles involve waiting, and wars even more so."
"Well," Genna said, pursing her lips, "I should hope this war with Blackfyre doesn't take too long."
The longer Tywin was away, the more likely their father would accede to Walder Frey's demands of her. "Fear not," Lelouch said. "Our enemies will not be allowed to seize either you or the Iron Throne."
She locked eyes with Lelouch. "It's not that I'm afraid we'll lose. I just hate to be kept waiting."
Denys' eyes bounced between the two of them, suspecting he was missing something but not quite catching on.
"You've a toast to give, my lord," Lelouch said.
"And the dance right afterwards," Genna added, her eyes never leaving his.
"Yes, yes, of course," he said, pushing back his chair with a creak and standing up. "My lords and ladies, a moment of silence to honor our fallen."
And when the moment passed, Denys lifted his goblet. "To our valiant dead! May the Seven watch over them, and to House Targaryen!"
"To our valiant dead, and to House Targaryen!" the crowd repeated.
That was as solemn as the night got as lyres, harps, and drums began playing. It was a feast after all, not a funeral.
Lelouch walked over to Genna. "May I have this dance, my lady?"
"Certainly," Genna said, and off they went. "You know, my cousin speaks fondly of you."
"I'm afraid my father would be displeased if I took Lady Joanna as my wife. He has certain ambitions," Lelouch said.
"Your heart's set on a royal match," Genna said. "I can hardly fault you for that. Princess Rhaella is a great beauty."
Lelouch twirled her around, then locked eyes with her. "It's not her beauty that interests me."
"Really?" she grinned impishly. "Is there another Targaryen beauty you've your eye on?"
Someone's been gossiping with Joanna. "In any case," Lelouch said, refusing to dignify the jab with an answer, "should a royal match not be forthcoming, my father would still not entirely approve of Lady Joanna."
Her eyes flashed with that dangerous Lannister pride. "Because she's not important enough?"
"Because she lacks that quality all men look for in a wife."
An eyebrow was raised imperiously. "And that is?'
Lelouch leaned in so close his every breath must have tickled her ears. "She doesn't quite have your ample… dowry."
She laughed, and it was not unpleasant to listen to. "I have a secret of my own to share."
Lelouch cocked his brow as he pulled back.
"I've lived a Frey since I flowered at thirteen," she began, "not that he was ever man enough to take it. But after only three years, it does come as a shock to find yourself a widow." It was her turn to lean in close. "The truth is: I came here to make sure." Genna pulled back and offered him a dazzling smile as dangerous as any sword. "And everything that that entails."
As they finished their lap around the floor, he bowed politely. "Thank you for the dance."
"You didn't step on my toes at least. I'd say you and I are quite evenly matched."
"Men who pay their footwork no mind don't come to feasts like this. They just get mentioned in one," Lelouch said.
"See that you keep minding your footwork then," Genna said. "I prefer the men I honor living."
"I shan't disappoint, my lady."
When they returned to their seats, she shared a look with her brother—a conversation passing between them neither would give voice to—but from the faint tug on the corner of her lips to the twinkle in her eyes that made them shine like emeralds, it seemed she approved.
-ZeroRequiem-
His fleet of four had carried seventy odd highborn corpses to Duskendale. Tywin had already seen to the orderly distribution for those of his people, but that still left over two-thirds of the coffins and barrels for Lelouch to deal with.
The stench would have been unbearable if the silent sisters had not boiled the flesh off the bones and preserved the organs with salt like you would meat. Their hearts were left on Bloodstone to continue the struggle against slavery, while their entrails were disposed of as quickly as could be.
"Thank you, Ser Lelouch. You are a true knight," said the sniffling and plump Lady Langward as he praised her husband's valor and skill at arms. "May the Seven bless you. House Langward will keep faith with the Targaryens as you bring that monster to heel."
"Seven willing," Lelouch replied. Ser she'd called him, as had over half of those he'd spoken to that morning.
Besides him, Donnall shifted his weight between his feet. "Is that the last of them?" he asked.
"Should be," Lelouch said. "We'll make a quick stop at Driftmark before we return to Bloodstone. Magister Zoutos has business to oversee, and he's content with the commitment Westeros has shown so far."
Donnall nodded. "Omorfia did a fine job running things from King's Landing, but she's not her grandfather. Not yet."
He hadn't known his cousin had taken an interest in the Myrish girl. "Developed an eye for coin counting have you?"
"I had to after watching you spend all of yours feeding the peasants for all these years."
As they returned to the Seafyre, Zoutos and Tywin met them with sombre looks.
"What news?" Lelouch asked.
Tywin handed him a letter, slightly damp and smelling of salt. It must have been flown by raven from the Stepstones—a method left only for the most pressing news given the ravens were not trained to return to the pirate-infested islands. But all the ravens fly to King's Landing, Lelouch thought as he unfurled the letter, which meant it had been forwarded to them specifically.
That could only mean orders, and urgent ones.
"We were wrong," Tywin said. "Blackfyre did not slaughter all the knights the Reach had sent after him."
Lelouch's mind was whirling as he kept reading. "Prisoners released on a promise that they would not take up arms against him for a period of five years, and deliver messages on his behalf." Promises that the knights would carry out, or see their Lords Mullendore, Shermer, and Osgrey killed for their faithlessness.
A threat few knights would dare test, especially against the likes of Maelys Blackfyre.
"Ser Gerold bids us both return posthaste," Tywin said.
Lelouch nodded. "Magister Zoutos, I had hoped to deliver you to Dirftmark myself, but I'm afraid this is where we must part ways. If you bring yourself aboard the Westerwind, Captain Lyn will see you there safely."
"It is of little consequence," Zoutos said. "A ship is a ship."
"You'll convey my orders to Ser Hughes?" Lelouch asked.
"Regarding the dead and the dyers and the drums, I remember," Zoutos said.
"It's clear what Blackfyre is after," Tywin said as the magister left and the Seafyre set sail. "He needs allies, and safe ports to land in."
The Battle of Naqes was a bloody blow to Westeros, but Blackfyre couldn't just sit around and wait things out. His was a war to seize the Iron Throne, and so long as the war was fought in Essos, he could not truly win. Yet…
"The Blackfyre cause has seen their friends dwindle with each failed uprising. No lords raised their banners for them during the Fourth Rebellion save the Yronwoods," Lelouch said.
Blackfyre is no fool. He has to know that, and while Maelys is feared and respected, he is not loved even by his own men.
"It's about being seen to do so," Lelouch mused.
"To sow distrust?" Tywin asked.
"And to keep our eyes elsewhere," Lelouch said. "While we decide who amongst us can be trusted and watch the southern ports with suspicion, he may well decide to land his army at Crackclaw Point or Massey's Hook. The Golden Company could be battering down the gates of King's Landing within a fortnight from either location."
Before Naqes, it would have been unfeasible for Maelys' allies, the ones with all the ships, to go through with such an audacious plan with sixty thousand armed and armored men breathing down their necks. That was no longer the case. Now there were only fifty thousand men, and they'd been forced back to the Stepstones. It was still a gambit, but an acceptable one now, for if the Golden Company set foot on Westeros, no further Westerosi armies would set foot on Essos.
It suddenly made perfect sense why Blackfyre had kept Old Mother's fleets to the south and the Tyroshi navy to the north. They'd have no way of knowing from which direction his landing would come from once the winter storms passed—a reprieve of maybe two months with any luck. Until then, the waters north of the Stepstones would be denied to any large fleet attempting to a full crossing.
"We can't pull back the army either," Tywin said. "To give up everything we've gained because of an army that hasn't landed… it would be seen as weakness."
And House Targaryen seems weak enough after Summerhall. It's why the war had to be fought on Essos in the first place. "Agreed. If we pull back, Maelys will have ample time to secure Lys and the Stepstones unopposed."
The last time the might of three Free Cities and their hinterlands were united, the Triarchy had burned down Spice Town, sacked High Tide, and nearly brought ruin to the Targaryens and their dragons. It had taken infighting and a coalition of Braavos, Pentos, and Lorath to bring them down. That wasn't like to happen anytime soon with Pentos defanged, and Lorath joining hands with Norvos and Qohor.
Three Free Cities… Maelys might hire enough Free Companies to match them man for man at last, if they allowed him the time.
As Duskendale disappeared behind them, Lelouch stared at the clouds in thought.