Chapter 12; War preparations
Characters of the chapter
Daenerys Targaryen, The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm
Davos Seaworth Knight of Westeros, Advisor to King Jon
Edmond Brahms, Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon
Jon Snow, also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms
"That's almost everyone." Jon said, observing his army assembling at the camp just outside Winterfell. Other banners were making their way to the camp even as they watched, streams made of men converging at this point. By Jon's count his army now consisted of some twenty thousand men. Considering the casualties sustained by the North in wars past he was pleased to note that he had managed to pull together as large a force as this. It might not have surprised him if he had received a force half this number or less. Perhaps it was best not to question how his lords had managed the feat. No doubt many of the soldiers in his army were freshly conscripted people who had not yet tasted battle, but he could work with that. He was more worried that even this considerable force was not enough, for he had heard that the Orlesian army was very large indeed. He needed to join forces with Daenerys as soon as he was able, that seemed certain. At least this business held the prospect of seeing her again after months apart.
For all the banners that had rallied here there was one that was missing, one he would have dearly hoped to see. "Any word from house Mormont? They should have been here by now." He asked.
"No, nothing. Rather odd I think. It's not like Lady Lyanna to fail to answer a call to arms. Something must have come up." Said Davos, standing beside Jon.
Jon sighed. "We can't wait for them any longer. Lord Manderly has sent word that the Orlesians have finally made their turn towards the coast, heading into the Bite. They could be making landfall any day now. Anyone else on their way will just have catch up."
"Was there something else?" He asked when he noticed the expectant expression of Davos.
"Yes. I was hoping to discuss your plan to leave me here with Lady Sansa." Davos said.
"That matter ought to be settled by now." Jon said, his voice stern. "You can fight and lead when necessary, but as you yourself have said that's not what you are best at."
"I could still be of use." Davos argued.
"You will be. This isn't me getting you out of my way. This is me putting you to work where I think you will do the most good." The king said.
"I will be needing a thousand and one things done while I am away. Smugglers and merchants bringing us supplies we need, my people kept in high spirits, and I need allies wherever they can be found. I need people to bet on us, and keep betting on us even if we start to look like the losing side. Sansa will do her part of course and I can rely on her to handle the nobility. But she was raised as a lady, and that reflects on what she can and will do. I need someone who knows how to speak to people of common birth and who can speak to unsavory individuals she can't talk to for fear of losing face. And I need someone to convince the reluctant when her methods come short." He explained.
"You have a common sense that a lot of people appreciate, the kind of sense that brought lady Mormont and Daenerys to our side when everyone else would have failed. If we are to win this war such talents will be in high demand." He added with a smile.
Davos sighed, but nonetheless seemed to accept Jon's reasoning. "I just… hate the idea of watching you go to war not knowing if you will ever be back, because you're my king, as well as my friend."
"Well if my army can't keep me safe from harm, I don't think one more blade will make a difference. Not even one as loyal as yours Davos." Jon said.
"I suppose you're right, as always. As it happens there is an actual matter as well, a recent acquaintance I think you should meet. I guess you call him my replacement now that it has been decided I'll stay here."
Jon nodded and followed Davos to another part of the courtyard where a number of new recruits were sitting on the ground, listening to a lecture being given by a man in front of them.
"So this thing in front of you is a fairly typical set of Orlesian military armor." He said, motioning to a straw man dressed in a suit of armor. "Note the padded coat and plate armor protecting the upper torso, the arms and the legs as well as the fully enclosing metal helmet that also protects the neck. Some army disciplines, like skirmishers and archers, eschew the breastplate for reduced weight, while others opt for an even heavier version that adds plates of metal to protect the lower torso as well."
"Don't let the fancy appearance fool you, this is functional and effective armor." He said, rapping his knuckles on the breastplate on the dummy before continuing. "The plate stops blades very well and the padded armor offers decent protection as well. And you might think that the metal mask on the helmet would limit their field of vision, but it does so far less than one might expect. They have lived their lives with such things, they know how to compensate for them. So, if you were fighting this fellow, where would you hit him?"
A hand rose up from the crowd: "Any part where there isn't metal."
The lecturing man nodded. "That's a very good start. The armor is admittedly weaker there, so that's where aim for on average. But in addition to that there are a few weak points I'd like to point out to you. The first one is where coat ends and the leg armor begins. There is a narrow space there not protected by any armor, and there are big veins in the leg. Cut those and a person can bleed to death within minutes. Even if not, a person won't fight as well with a large hole in his leg. Another good point to go for is at the seam where the halves of the coat meet. If you decide to attack there then I advise that you make a stabbing attack just under the metal breastplate for maximum damage. Both of these spots are hard to reach but well worth it if you can land a blow there." He said, motioning at the appropriate parts of the armor as he spoke.
"All right, that is all for now. When you return to your units I want to tell all your buddies what I told you. It could save their lives. It could save your life. You are dismissed." The man finished.
As people began to rise up and leave, Davos cleared his throat and the man turned.
"Ah, Ser Davos. And you must be King Jon. Ser Edmond Brahms, at your service. I was just instructing some of your men on the Orlesians and their equipment." He said upon noticing them.
"I heard. You certainly seem to know what you are talking about. How does one get to know the Orlesians and their military that well?" Jon said.
"By being their neighbor. I'm from Nevarra, Your Grace. And as it is, while there is no official state of war, there are frequent skirmishes along the border we share with Orlais. I have served is some of these conflicts, and through them I have become very familiar with Orlesian forces." Edmond replied.
"You're Nevarran? Then how did you come to be here? The war only started recently, and the Orlesians have taken steps to restrict travel since." Jon asked.
"I happened to be in the area already, seeking a new patron to serve. When I learned that a war had started between you and the Orlesian Empire I extended an offer to Ser Davos, hoping to enter your service. He accepted, employing me as a military advisor." Edmond explained.
"New patrons? What happened to your old patrons?" Jon asked, raising an eyebrow.
Edmond's face darkened somewhat. "Uh… politics is what happened to them. The family I served was involved in a plot to usurp King Markus Pentaghast. One of many such attempts as it happens, since our king is an old man that seems to insist on outliving all of us, which frustrates great many people. I was not involved with the plot myself, but my association with the accused family was nonetheless enough to see me exiled as an accessory. Still, I consider myself lucky. Those more directly involved in the plot were executed for their troubles."
"So you were exiled, and that brought you all the way here?" Jon said. He was unable to keep himself from feeling some unease at the knight's admission. Even if he claimed to not have been directly involved, having been in the service of a house that had turned against their king was cause for some concern. Particularly so because Jon had to take Edmond's word about his involvement in the mess he described.
"Yes. Deserved or not, the status of an exile can be a stain on a man's reputation, and it turns out most nobles don't bother to examine the context of events. Most of them refused to hire me, and those that might hire me…"
"You don't trust." Jon finished for him.
"Precisely. I was hoping that this far away from Thedas I might be able to get a better opportunity to prove myself. Fortunately for me you are not without your own needs." Edmond said.
"Did you know any of this before you accepted him into service?" Jon asked, turning to Davos.
"It did come up in the conversation. But, based on a gut feeling, he seemed honest and decent, so I felt he should be given a chance. And I felt that his field of experience was simply too good to pass up." Davos said.
"So you trust him?" The King asked.
"I do. I don't think we should condemn a good man for serving a bad house." Davos said.
"If there are doubts about my trustworthiness, I am willing to prove myself. If there is a promise to give, an oath to swear or a task to perform, name it and I will do it." Edmond interjected.
Jon considered, then nodded. "I appreciate that. For now I'd like you to help us in this fight in whatever way you can. That will be proof enough, given time."
"I will. And… thank you for the opportunity." Edmond said.
Jon shrugged. "You were right as it happens. We have need of you. We need all the help we can get. But now I must ask to be excused. There is much I must still see to before the army is ready to move out."
It was later on, at sunset, that Jon sought out Ghost. This was after he had met with the lords of his army, after he had done the work that he needed to do, and after he had said the farewells to his family. Now there was only this one last thing to do before he could set out with his army on the night march he had planned to cover as much ground as possible before the Orlesian landfall.
He found his wolf in the courtyard, standing in the open, as if waiting for him. Jon crossed the yard and knelt before him, looking into the wolf's red eyes.
"I need you to stay here boy, keep my family safe. Protect them. Can you do that for me?" He said to the wolf, petting him.
He could have sworn that Ghost nodded before trotting in the direction of the main keep, and Jon knew he had understood. And so he mounted his horse and rode through the gate. After riding the first hundred meters he stopped and turned, spotting Sansa and his son watching him from the battlements. He waved goodbye to them one last time before riding off into the night.
"Many of your lords and ladies have gathered in the throne room. I think they are expecting a few words from you." Tyrion said to Daenerys, having just entered through the door.
"I will be along in a few moments." She said with a nod. Tyrion bowed and left the room, and Daenerys turned back to the mirror to check that everything was in order with her armor. The armor in question was full plate armor, complete with chainmail in all the joints and weak spots. It had been a gift from Jon on the anniversary of their wedding. The thought made her smile briefly. Leave it to northmen to give heavy armor as an anniversary gift!
The suit came with a longsword made for her hand, although she considered it to be an aspect that was there just for show. By Jon's insistence she had received a few sessions of sword practice from him so she could defend herself if there was an unexpected need. Even so, she had not learned all that well. She had had only a few hours to spare for the training, and that was not enough. She knew the basic strikes and parries, the correct stances, but that was it. She had her doubts that she could hold her own against even an average swordsman for any extended period of time. And by Jon's own admission she had started the training far too late in life to achieve true mastery. Proper swordsmen began their training in childhood, and by the time they were men grown fighting was an instinct, a skill so natural that little to no conscious thought was needed. She still needed to think what she did when wielding a sword, and that was an impediment that stood in her way. At the end of the day she did not think this a serious shortcoming. When she did battle, she did so from dragonback, and there she would have no need for swords.
The metal suit made her feel heavy and awkward, but her small council had assured her that she looked very impressive in it, and looking in the mirror she could not deny the armor had certain appeal. It was Black in color, and on the breastplate was the three headed dragon of the Targaryens, made of red steel.
It was then she remembered that red steel was a product of Thedosian origin. Despite the armor's origin from house Redforge, many aspects of it indicated an outside influence all too familiar to her. The materials, the design practices, the protective runes lining the insides, all were the heritage of Thedas, their legacy. It bore the marks of their way of looking at the world, their essence so to speak. The realization made her feel sad. "Have we nothing of our own left?" She asked herself. "Is it all the work of these strangers we didn't even know existed a decade ago? And if so, have we already lost, conquered by merchant's wares instead of armies? Is this invasion just a way of formalizing what has been done years ago?"
Then she shook her head, driving those thoughts away, angry at herself for allowing herself to lapse into melancholy. This wasn't what her people needed her to be! They needed her fierce, with a fire in her heart and words of encouragement on her lips. They were already war-weary from conflicts past. Without her they would falter, and that would be the end of everything.
Clearing her thoughts for the final time she left her chambers and made her way to the throne room. When she entered the buzz of conversation died in the hall, every eye trained on her. Standing in front of the Iron Throne, she let her eyes move across the hall, past faces she knew well, and others she recognized only barely.
She began to speak:
"Many years ago, when I began the journey to become Queen, I gave a promise to those who were then my people. I promised them that I would keep them safe, that those who would harm them would die screaming. I have not forgotten that promise. Today, that promise belongs to the people of Westeros. To you, my Lords and Ladies."
"I have also not forgotten the oath I swore when I sat down on that throne and took on the burden of leadership." She continued, pointing at the Iron Throne. "The protector of the realm. That is who I promised to be."
She took a pause before continuing, letting her word sink in.
"A great enemy comes for us now, to lay waste to our lands and seize by force what they cannot claim by right. And I, remembering my oaths, will take up arms in our defense. But I am in need of aid. Your aid. I call upon you to stand with me. Together with our northern allies we will turn this enemy back. We will show them what it means to face us, the people of Westeros. Us, who threw down the White Walkers themselves. If their cold grip could not break us, then neither shall this petty tyrant's invasion. My Lords and Ladies… can I count on you?"
Scattered cheers and shouts of acknowledgement replied to her, excitement beginning to build up within the crowd.
"Can I count on you!? Will you stand together!?" She asked, louder, and the hall erupted in cheers as the people in the hall in one voice declared that they would.
And she smiled…