Chapter 15; Dire News;
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
Derek Cobbler, Kirkwall ambassador to the South Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms
Edmond Brahms, Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon
Grey Worm Master of War on the Small Council of Queen Daenerys, High Commander of the Royal Army
Robb Targaryen Son of Jon Targaryen and Daenerys Targaryen, Crown Prince of the Twin Kingdoms
Jon Snow, also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms
Haggo Stallion Dothraki Khal, Lord of upstart house Stallion.
Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie, Wardeness of the North
Wolkan, Maester assigned to Winterfell
Cursive/Bold text is in Dothraki
In her rooms at Winterfell Sansa Stark was asleep, dressed only in her nightgown. She stirred when she thought she heard shouts and clangs of metal in the distance. What truly made her snap awake and sit up on the bed was a pair of grunting sounds just outside her door followed by two thumps made by something heavy hitting the ground. Then a key turned in the lock and the door opened, a man she didn't know stepping through.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" She demanded of the man.
In response the man sighed. "My, such a pretty face. A shame really, but a job's a job, and a man's got to earn a living. I'll make this quick if it helps."
"Make it quick…?" She repeated, a sense of danger growing in her mind. It was then she noticed the bloody knife in his hands. All color drained from her face as she realized what he was going on about.
"No!" She screamed when the man lunged at her with the knife. Reacting on instinct, she thrust a pillow in front of the blade. The knife tore right through it, and suddenly the air was filled with tufts of feathers. Then an open palm slammed to her collarbone flinging her on her back on the bed. As the man clambered onto the bed after her, knife at the ready, she reached over the side of the bed, her fingers closing around the handle of a chamber pot. Before the man could strike at her she struck him to the side of the head, hard enough for the pot to shatter. He staggered, covering the bloody wound on his head, cursing in a foreign tongue. Sansa took advantage of his momentary disorientation and bolted to the door. But before she could get through a hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her back hard enough to make her scream. A kick to the back of the leg made her fall to her knees, and then the knife appeared again, going for her throat. She caught his hand with both of hers, stopping the blade inches away from her skin. The man continued to push the knife toward her, cursing all the while. His other hand continued to hold onto her hair, so tight that Sansa thought he might pull off her scalp. The man was much stronger than she was, his arms thick with muscles created through years of physical exercise, and little by little the edge of the knife neared her throat. Just as she thought that she could not hold on any longer a huge white blur entered through the door and slammed to the man, knocking her aside. She looked up from the ground and saw the man struggling on the ground, screaming and his knife gone from his hand, the huge mass of Ghost on top of him. The direwolf latched his teeth onto the man's neck, and with a twist of the wolf's head the man's screams were cut short by a sickening crunch. Afterwards Ghost calmly walked over to her and sniffed her, making sure she was all right.
"Oh Ghost…" She sobbed, wrapping her arms around him, all the emotions of her harrowing experience beginning to pour out of her. She buried her face to his white fur and cried. Ghost seemed to understand, resting his head on her shoulder, not minding the soaked patch of fur her tears caused.
She had been there for a while when Ser Davos and the Captain of her Vale guard came through the door, panting and with swords in their hands.
"My lady, are you all right?" Davos asked, alarm clear in his voice.
"I am, thanks to Ghost." She replied, quietly. "What is happening?" She asked then.
"We are under attack. Infiltrators struck us from inside the castle. We are containing things as best we are able." The Captain replied.
"Gods…" She breathed. "Where is Bran? And Robb. Where is Jon's son?" She demanded, her voice suddenly full of authority once more.
"Lord Brandon is safe in his tower. Master Kieran is with him. Any idiot that tries to attack them will be burned to a crisp twenty different ways. And Prince Robb is safe last I saw. I have some of my men with him." The Captain said.
"That's not good enough damn it! I had two men outside my door, and they didn't even slow down the man that came to take my life!" She said sharply. "Find the Prince and bring him here! Now!" She commanded.
"I'm on it." The Captain said, nodding hastily. "Ser Davos, stay with lady Sansa, keep her safe. Bar the door and do not open it for anyone but me!" He told the Onion Knight before storming off through the door.
As Davos sealed the door with a heavy wooden beam, Sansa went to retrieve the assassin's knife, thinking to give herself at least some ability to defend herself, just in case. Picking up the blade she tried not to look at the dead man or his wounds. After that there was nothing to do except wait. Davos sat down on the bed his eyes occasionally drawn to either Sansa or the dead man. Ghost lay down at his feet. Of the trio in the room the wolf seemed to be calmest, although occasionally he stirred, lifting his head up to look at the closed door. Meanwhile Sansa found herself feeling restless, pacing the length of the room, fiddling the knife in her hands.
"Damn it, where are they? It's been too long, they should be back by now." She said impatiently, glancing at the door.
"Maybe if you sat down…" Davos tried to say after a while of watching her pace.
"I'm not in the mood for your sage wisdom Davos!" Sansa snapped at him.
The Onion Knight simply looked at her with raised eyebrows. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, that was unworthy of me." She said in apology.
"It's just…" She said before sighing and sitting down on the bed beside Davos. "Jon told me to keep his son safe. If something were to happen to him on my watch… Jon would never forgive me. No one would ever forgive me, least of all me."
"He is protected by some of our best. Nothing will happen to him. I'm sure of it." He said.
Sansa scoffed. "That confidence seems completely unwarranted. I was protected by some of our best, and I was nearly slaughtered in my own bed."
"I should have stopped this. This should not have been allowed to happen." She then reflected.
"And how would you have done that? Jon did not anticipate this, nor did I. It's obvious the people in King's Landing didn't manage any better, else they would have warned us. If they with all their resources could not figure this out, I don't see how we could have done so. I'm not a learned man but I don't think anything like this has ever been attempted in the history of Westeros." He said.
"I don't know what I should have done, but I know I should have done it." She said.
"Then perhaps this is more about being able to forgive yourself for not being able to foresee this. You're doing everything you can." Davos said.
"And how am I doing it exactly?" She asked pointedly. "Cowering in here, hoping to survive till morning?"
"By leading, by giving the rest of us inspiration, and direction. And by making sure that even when things like this happen we can pick up the pieces and move on."
"I'm not doing such a good job of it am I?" She said sadly.
"You do as much as you can with what you have. It's not perfect and it's not always enough, but it's all we can hope for, and I think all of us would be much worse off without it." He countered.
Despite it all, or because of it, Sansa couldn't help but smile. "I see why Jon keeps you around. You always seem to know what to say. It's good for morale. I take back what I said earlier, about not needing your advice."
Davos smiled himself. "I'm glad I am of some use at my age, but I do hope that that it wasn't all I was known for."
"Oh, not to worry, it's merely your best aspect, not the only one." She said. "Whose work is this do you think? Who sent these attackers?" She added with a more serious tone.
"We are at war. I think the answer is clear." He said.
"You're probably right. Even so, I should make certain of it. There is always a chance that there is someone else's hand at play here, someone who thought this was the perfect moment to strike while we were distracted by the war."
It was then that there was a knock at the door. Sansa, Davos and Ghost tensed at the sound until she heard the voice of her guard captain: "My lady, it's me. The prince is with us. Open the door."
Sansa nodded to Davos who moved to unbar the door. Through door stepped the guard captain, two of his soldiers and the seven year old prince of the Twin Kingdoms, Robb Targaryen. Seeing that he was alive and unhurt, she quickly moved to the prince and caught him in a tight embrace.
"Auntie, you're choking me." The prince complained quietly.
"You're safe now. We're safe. We don't need to be scared anymore. No one is going to be able to hurt us now." She said, easing her embrace a fraction.
"I'm not scared." Robb said, sounding to her ears less confident than he wanted to appear.
Sansa smiled even so, or perhaps because of it. "Of course you aren't. You brave knight you. You're son of Jon, son of Daenerys, and you don't know what fear is. You'll keep us all safe.
Still embracing the prince she directed her eyes toward the captain. "Thank you Captain, for your service. It will not be forgotten. Now I would ask you to destroy these invaders. If you can, have your forces take one of them alive. There are some questions that I would like answered."
"Understood my lady. It will be done. In the meantime I would suggest that you and the prince remain here until the fighting is done. We will seek you out when the task is done."
She nodded and turned to the direwolf in the room. "Ghost, go with him. Help him defend us."
"Ser Davos, until the danger has passed, I and the prince are in need of protection. Under the circumstances I think it would be best if you remained here with us."
"As you wish then." Davos said with a nod.
The Captain and Ghost headed out while the two other soldiers dragged the dead assassin from the room without the need to ask them to. When they were gone the door was closed and barred once again. And then… they waited. Hours passed, and none of them spoke during that whole time. They simply sat there and listened, hoping for some indication of how the battle was going. Now and then Sansa though she could hear sounds of battle, other than that silence reigned supreme. With nothing to do but wait and hope for victory, Sansa found herself hoping that Brienne was there. She and her sword would have been good to have on their side, and if she was here Sansa would have felt far more confident of their victory today. Alas, after the wars had ended she had dismissed her protector from her service, and since Brienne had spent most of her time with Jaime Lannister of all people. With the rumors about the two of them she was astonished they were yet unmarried.
"Arya…" She whispered in a voice so quiet only she could hear it, her mind drifting to the other person she would have wanted to be here. Had she been, Arya would have been absolutely livid that this had occurred. She would have gone to any lengths necessary to destroy these attackers, to protect her family. Then again, if she had been home she would likely have gone with Jon, to help him fight.
"Arya, where have you gone? What are you doing? What's become of you?" She pondered. These had been questions she had asked of Bran as well. To her surprise Bran had refused to answer her or Jon except to confirm that Arya still lived. When questioned as to why he was withholding information he had said that Arya did not wish to be followed, that she was walking a path that belonged to her alone, that when and if she wanted to return she would do it herself, in her own time. And so Sansa was left none the wiser, no matter how many times she had asked.
Finally the captain returned to her once more. He was exhausted, his armor dented, but even so he was smiling. Ghost sneaked past him to the room, his snout stained red. "It is done My Lady. The attackers have been defeated. One prisoner has been taken. He awaits for you in the main hall, under strict guard."
"Good. Very good." She said. "You are injured." She noted with some concern after she noticed the cut on his forehead near his hairline. She raised a hand toward the wound but the captain stopped her.
"It's nothing. A fleabite. No need to bloody yourself." He said dismissively.
"Go see the Maester when you have a chance. Let him judge." Sansa told him.
"I will. But with respect, only after my lads have been seen to. Many of them have sustained far greater wounds than I." He replied.
"That's acceptable." She said with a slight smile. "If you would wait outside, I will come see this prisoner of yours once I have made myself reasonably presentable. Davos, you go with the Captain. Robb, stay here, Ghost will watch over you."
The young prince took offense at that. "I told I'm not scared. I won't…"
"Don't argue! This isn't the time." Sansa interrupted firmly. The prince held his tongue and sat down on the bed, looking sullen. The Captain gave a bow and left through the door, with Davos following at his heels. As soon as the soldiers had gone, Sansa set to work. She brushed her hair, straightening out the tangles a night's sleep and fighting for her life had created. Then she went on to dress herself in the most formal black dress she could find.
Deciding that she was as appropriately attired as was possible under the circumstances, she exited her room and allowed the captain to escort her through the corridors to the great hall. Along the way they came across dead bodies, the living moving about amongst them, sparing only tired glances at her as she passed. The battle had been a difficult one, of that there was no doubt now. When she arrived in the main hall the space was full of soldiers, both from the North and from the Vale. Maester Walkin was there as well, and she gave him a nod in greeting before her eyes were fixed on the man on his knees on the floor. His hands were bound behind his back, and two Vale knights were holding him by the shoulders. He had been beaten, as was evident by the blood on his face and chest. If not for the current circumstances Sansa might have mistaken him for a peasant, so plain was his attire. Briefly she wondered if there had been some kind of mistake, if the soldiers had captured someone they only thought was one of the attackers. But then he lifted his eyes to look into hers. That was when she knew. This was a trained killer, unafraid and unremorseful even now.
She regarded the man with a face hard and emotionless like stone. "Who sent you?" She asked, her voice cold like a midwinter night.
"Answer me!" She commanded when the man did not respond. Still the man did not say anything. She nodded to one of the knights holding him and the man was struck across his face with a gauntleted fist, making him grunt in pain. The hit was violent enough that the flesh on his cheek split, revealing the bone underneath. With rapid steps she advanced to him. The Maester tried to say a word of warning but his words were nothing but a buzz in her ears as she grasped the man by the collar.
"WHO SENT YOU!? WHO DARED TO SEND YOU!?" She screamed in his face, enraged.
To her surprise the man grinned at her, his eyes gleaming, almost manic.
"Long live the Emperor." He said before biting down hard on something. Then foam began to spill from his mouth, he started swaying, slipping from the grasp of his astonished captors and falling face down to the floor. As everyone looked on in astonishment the Master came over, kneeling besides the dead man and placing a pair of fingers on his throat, feeling for a pulse.
"He's dead my Lady." The Maester said with a shake of his head.
"Doesn't matter. He said enough." Sansa said with cold, barely contained fury in her voice. Then she looked in the eyes of those assembled in the hall. "On behalf of the King and myself, my gratitude to you all, for your bravery tonight. Winterfell stands free, and we of the Royal family here owe you our lives. Captain, those of us who died in our defense are heroes, and I would have them treated as such. Give them an honorable burial."
"As for these others…" She eyed the dead man with disgust on her face. "Get this garbage out of my castle. All of them. Be damn sure you don't mix the two groups."
"What would you like us to do with their bodies?" The Captain asked.
"Bury them, burn them, feed them to dogs? Do as you like, so long as you get rid of them." She said dismissively before turning to the Maester:
"Send a Raven to Jon. He needs to know this happened."
"It will be done my lady" Wolkan said and left immediately in the direction of the rookery. Sansa left the room shortly as well, going to double check that her family in Winterfell was alright. And then there was much to do to repair the damage and restore the numbers of Winterfells defenders. And she had to talk with Bran about all this. If this had happened anywhere else she wanted to hear of it."
"House Kronos? You're certain?" Daenerys asked, horrified. Her army had set up camp for the night and she had called a meeting to consider the strategic situation. The contingents from the Stormlands and Dorne were still on their way, but other than that her army had finished assembly.
"Tyrion's message was quite conclusive. They attacked the Tully forces trying to stop the Orlesian landfall. It appears that they have betrayed the Kingdoms. It is possible that other Upstart Houses have followed suite, or will soon." Grey Worm said, his voice grave.
"Traitors! I knew I should have dealt with them when I had the chance. Now it seems too late." She hissed. "We need to warn every lord not here with us, particularly Jon and Jaime Lannister. They both have upstart houses nearby, and their armies might be in jeopardy if they get caught unawares."
"Messages will be sent as soon as we are done here:" Grey Worm said.
"Make sure that our fastest ravens are used. Time is of the essence now. I just hope our warnings are in time, otherwise we face disaster." Daenerys told him.
"It seems you were all too correct when you said that my lack of action against the Upstart Houses might be interpreted as weakness. Apparently that includes them as well." She said to the ambassador.
Derek nodded sadly. "I would have much rather have been wrong about this, though."
"Of that I have no doubt." Daenerys replied. "I hardly believe it myself. I know they were reckless, and I know there have been tensions between me and many of those houses, but to betray the kingdoms to side with these invaders..?" She contemplated bitterly.
"Fortunately, not all of us have betrayed you, Khaleesi. Some of us remember who we are destined to ride with." A new voice spoke up. She lifted her gaze and saw a man with a thick black beard and the copper skin of a Dothraki, dressed in lamellar armor, with an arakh at his hip, a quiver of arrows on the other side and a bow across his back.
"Khal Haggo? You're here?" She answered in dothraki, smiling as she recognized him. He was one of the dothraki who had chosen to remain in Westeros after the rest had returned to their home. Years of living in Westeros had led them to pick up some of the local customs, mixing them with their own, the best of both worlds. Eventually they had formed to what approximated a noble house, with Haggo at their head, one more of the Upstart Houses born in the wake of the wars before the Twin Kingdoms. She might have tolerated them as lords in truth if not for the existence of other Upstart Houses who would have used that to argue for their own elevation. If some self-made houses were acknowledged as true lords, why not them as well they would have said. And at the time she had felt she could not allow noble houses to sprout of their own will without her say so. In her mind to do so would have invited chaos and anger, potentially laying the groundwork for another civil war. Now of course those precautions seemed touch redundant. The Upstart houses had raised themselves in rebellion, and war had found a way to return to their lives.
But as such Khal Haggo and his house, House Stallion, were one of the few Upstart Houses she actually got along with, one of the few she could trust with certainty. These were her bloodriders, sworn to kill for her. Their loyalty was not in question.
"Of course I am. We are the blood of your blood, and what kind of bloodriders would allow their Khaleesi to ride to war without them? And so we answer your summons, lured by the sweet promise of battle." He declared proudly.
"Then I am pleased. The men of Orlais pride themselves as the finest horse riders in the world. Perhaps you will show them just how mistaken they are." She said with a nod of gratitude.
"Your enemies shall find no rest, not the ones here and not the ones across the poison water. I bring word from beyond the sea, from your people. The fight in your name continues, but the serpent-men of Tevinter press us hard. Your bloodriders call upon their Khaleesi to join her strength with theirs so we may destroy this worthy enemy." He said.
"And I wish for nothing more than to ride to battle at their side. But first we must defeat the enemy already in our home." Daenerys answered.
"Yes. In battle the closest enemy dies first. It is known." He said grimly "And so House Stallion stands ready, our riders eager to spill blood of Orlesian metalfaces. The other new houses stand with you also, they have asked to bring you a message. When we heard that war was coming we convened to decide how best to respond. Some never came, and now we know why. So I can tell you which new houses remain true, and which have gone on to serve new masters."
"Then tell me." She said. "In the common tongue if you would." She added before Haggo could answer, holding up her hand. "Some here aren't fluent in Dothraki, but they should understand this as well."
The Dothraki nodded his understanding before answering in the common tongue, accented but understandable: "Houses Kronos and Blackstar jointly lead the alliance against you. House Warblade has joined them in the north, as well as house Sea in the Reach. Meanwhile Lady Nadya has brought house Silverpine to your cause, and Lord Oren has sent messages that he intends to join House Redforge with King Jon to make amends for mistakes in judgement. House Merchant of the Vale has provisionally declared for you, though from the slowness with which they have gathered, they may be waiting for a victor to emerge before committing to either side. The smaller new houses are bannermen to the others, and have declared their allegiances accordingly." He tallied.
"I see." The Queen said, nodding. "House Watchman? They have near eight thousand men at their command, a decent boost to any army they side with." She asked.
"The sit in their forts and decline to taker part altogether." Haggo scoffed "I rather think the Dornish sun has melted their brains. How else could be explained their weak wills and slothful manner?"
"It's an odd choice to be certain." Daenerys agreed. "This war represents an opportunity to make something of themselves finally, and yet they refuse to seize upon it. I don't think they get how this whole lordship thing works."
"But tell me, can you vouch for the new houses? Are they truly loyal, and will they remain loyal? The last thing I need right now is a knife in the back, so much depends on your answer." She asked.
"I am confident that you can trust them. If they did not intend to honor their promise I don't think they would have offered." Haggo replied. Then he hesitated briefly. "They… did express their hopes that next time when it comes time to consider their requests to have them recognized as lords and ladies you will remember their service and the swiftness with which it was offered. We have heard that promises of such recognition was how the enemy lured the others into their service."
Daenerys nodded again, having caught Haggo's meaning. "I understand. Well, if they remain true with us to the very end, then I suppose it is a just reward for them."
"I shall bring that message to them then. I'm sure they will be pleased of the reassurance." He said.
"There have been more news from King's Landing my Queen. Lord Tyrion has more details regarding the Orlesian army." Grey Worm said, moving on to the next topic.
"Has he discovered how large a force they have brought?" She asked.
"He has, and the news is grim. He tells us that the Orlesian army is some eighty thousand strong. All under the command of one Alexander de Rozien." He answered.
"Eighty thousand?" Daenerys breathed, hardly believing her ears. "How many of those are fighters?"
"That is the fighting arm of the army. With the support elements included their numbers are greater still." Grey Worm said.
"We can still match their numbers once we combine our strength with the North." She said defiantly.
"In terms of simple numbers, perhaps. But there are a number of other factors we must consider now. For instance we know that around half of the Orlesian force is cavalry, twenty thousand of which are Chevaliers, the rest being Imperial Army cavalry." Abassador Derek countered, joining in on the conversation.
"And it gets even better than that." He continued. "My sources would have me believe that a large contingent of mages have been assigned to support the army."
"How many mages?" Grey Worm asked.
"Under two hundred. But that is enough to inflict terrible harm." Derek answered.
"These mages… do they come from the College or the Circles?" Daenerys asked.
"Both." Derek replied. "The way I hear it First Enchanter Vivienne wants to take back her old position as magical advisor to the Imperial Court. The College covets the same, believing it to be a necessary step to validate their institution in the eyes of the world. So both organizations have committed mages to the fight in the hopes of endearing themselves to the Emperor."
"And in the process they do the exact opposite for me. But very well, if they wish to side with the Orlesians and face us in battle then I see no reason not to oblige them." The Queen said. "Both at once… this isn't going to be easy." She thought to herself.
"Ah yes, before I forget, the Inquisition has issued a statement, declaring their stance on the Orlesian invasion and outlining the actions they intend to take in response." Derek said.
"And what has the Lord Inquisitor decided to do?" She asked, hoping that no more enemies were about to be added to an already overlong list.
"The Inquisition has made a formal protest to the Orlesian Empire for their attack against Inquisition troops stationed at Eastwatch by the sea. In retaliation the Inquisition has suspended all co-operation with the Empire for the duration of this war. They have stated that they will not respond to any request for support made by the Empire, except in the form of humanitarian aid. Furthermore, in the event of peace talks they have extended an offer to serve as mediators." He said.
"That is more helpful than I expected of them. A formal offer to support us would have been even better, but I guess I should be grateful for this much." The Queen said with a relieved smile.
"There's more." Derek said. "The Inquisition has established a number of safe zones in various regions of Westeros, apparently with the support of the local lords. They have declared that anyone on either side of the conflict who wishes to take no part in the war may go to one of these places, where they will be cared for until the war's end. In return those permitted entry are not to engage in any violence, under the penalty of expulsion. They have also sent a warning to us that any interference or attack against these sites will be met with an appropriate level of force, including, if necessary, deadly force. I imagine they have sent similar warnings to King Jon and the Orlesians."
"Hmm. Well those safe areas will doubtless save many lives. I'm pleased of that. Less so of their presumption to issue orders to me. Fortunately they do not ask too much. Inform our forces to steer clear of those places, I want no trouble with the Inquisition." She said.
"Did you say the Inquisition got permission from the lords to set up these areas?" She asked, to which Derek nodded.
"I guess the rumors about some of the nobility being in their pocket weren't an exaggeration." She contemplated. "I suppose we should take a closer look at the strategic situation." She said, but before they could a young man entered the tent, a scroll in his hands.
"Your Grace, my Lords, pardon me for interrupting, but a Chantry courier just brought this message. I told him you were having a meeting, but he insisted that it was important." He said.
Slightly puzzled, Daenerys accepted the scroll with a nod and the messenger gave a quick bow and left. "The seal… it's from the Divine." She said examining the scroll. "Looks to be an official declaration." She said after breaking the seal.
She began to read aloud from the letter:
"To the attention of Queen Daenerys of the South Kingdom, King Jon of the North Kingdom, Emperor Gaspard of Orlais…"
"…Gaspard of Orlais and the faithful of the Maker's world, a writ of clarification is hereby issued by Divine Victoria the First. It has been brought to the attention of the Chantry that attempts have been made to call the current conflict between the Twin Kingdoms and the empire of Orlais an exalted march. The Divine hereby declares that this is a false designation. The conflict currently undergoing between the Twin Kingdoms and the Orlesian Empire is a secular affair, an affront in the eyes of the Maker and his institutions in the world. Therefore the ongoing conflict does not in any way shape or form enjoy the support or approval of the Chantry. Any attempts to declare or imply otherwise will be met with stringent denials and rebukes from all officials of the Chantry. The Divine expresses her wish for a swift resolution to the ongoing conflict, so that peace might be restored to this corner of the Maker's world and the lives of His children might be preserved from the ravages of war. Furthermore, Her Perfection wishes to remind the faithful that an exalted march is an action that can be declared exclusively by Blessed Andraste of her representative in the world. It is therefore wholly inappropriate for secular leaders to falsify such a declaration in pursuit of their worldly agendas. Such an act constitutes an offense against the Maker, to be condemned as sinful behavior by all the faithful. Written on behalf of Divine Victoria the first on the fourteenth day of Molioris, on the fifty second year of the Dragon Age."
Jon lowered the letter he had been reading aloud and turned to look at his military advisor.
"Well, as far as the Chantry goes I don't think I have ever seen such a searing condemnation from them. It seems the Emperor seriously blundered with his whole Exalted March card. Now every even remotely pious Orlesian will wonder if supporting the war is even the right thing to do." Edmond said.
"Hopefully it's just the first of many blunders." Jon said. "Let's have a look at what the situation is on the field." He said then, turning to the map where wooden pieces depicting the various armies were arranged.
"Right. After they defeated the initial Tully forces during their landfall their army has now landed into the Riverlands, close to the Twins. The Tully soldiers that survived the landfall battle rallied with a royal army training force nearby, creating a force of some five thousand strong, mostly infantry as I hear it. Together they tried to avoid the Orlesian main force and make it to the Twins. Unfortunately the Orlesians seem to have detected their movements and deployed their cavalry contingents to intercept them, forcing them to meet the Imperials in battle. I fear those troops are lost." Edmond said, moving the pieces on the map where appropriate.
"You may well be right. But they won't go down without a fight. Hopefully they will cause serious damage to the Orlesians before they fall." Jon said.
"I wouldn't hold out much hope in that regard. An army of half-trained boys with a few grey old men to lead them, outnumbered around eight to one by a well-trained and battle hardened cavalry army? I would bet a hundred gold sovereigns that they won't survive the first charge." Edmond said.
"You would really bet against a king?" Jon asked, half surprised, half in jest.
"Uh, no, not really. It would not be appropriate, and I doubt I could afford it if I somehow ended up losing. I was just making a point." Edmond said hastily.
"I suppose we shall know how it goes for them soon enough." Jon said. "In the meantime we must turn our attention to the upstart houses. According to the reports we have received Houses Kronos and Blackstar have betrayed us, siding with the Orlesians. Other upstart houses may have followed suite, although house Redforge has already sent messages declaring their support for us. The traitor houses will need to be dealt with, otherwise we will have an enemy at our backs. For us that means confronting House Warblade. Winterfell is currently undermanned, and unless we defeat them, they are in a position to threaten the castle."
"And relating to that effort I have a special assignment for you, ser Edmond. I don't know how much we can trust house Redforge. They might be genuine, but this might also be some kind of trick. So I want you and a few other men to go out and establish contact with them. If they are sincere, you can direct them to attack House Warblade alongside us, and they can prove their commitment that way. I think with your experiences in politics you are perfect for this job." He commanded.
"And I'm expendable…" Edmond said with a light, joking tone. "Well, if I'm to make it in time for the battle I guess I should get underway immediately. With your leave, Your Grace?"
Jon nodded and Edmond left the tent. The king's attention was drawn back to the map, staring at the pieces depicting the various armies. "And so it begins…"