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Chapter 13 Part 1
=Sith=
291 AC
Essos
Marching to Yunkai proved to be unexpectedly dull and uneventful. It was also painfully slow in Viserys' experience. Yet, Ser Richard and other veterans he had at his disposal tended to disagree. The last time he fought a war, which wasn't that long in his memories, the slowest vehicles on the ground governing mobility moved no slower than fifty kilometers per hour over virtually all terrains. An army without such walkers to slow it down could be much swifter as long as proper scouting ensured they didn't run into enemy ambushes.
Viserys' army, which was apparently incredibly fast for an infantry force, did on average forty to fifty kilometers per day and only thanks to the ancient, if in disrepair, roads between Astapor and Yunkai. He could have pushed the Unsullied to march harder, but that would have wiped out his garrison troops and meant there wouldn't be enough light left in the evening to build up a proper camp. Even with the Force and what few horsemen he had working as scouts, the Sith didn't relish the possibility of being struck in the dead of night by mercenary cavalry, or worse, Dothraki, while everyone slept in the open or had substandard fortifications to use.
"Making those camps is a lot of work," Dany commented on the third night of the march. So far, she had kept her eyes and ears open, watched, and absorbed everything around her before asking questions as instructed.
There was no substitute for learning how to lead troops that can make up for hands-on experience. Even the best of training went only so far, for real life threw at people all kinds of anticipated and unanticipated issues every single day in the field.
"Night attacks are dangerous for everyone involved. They often enough would end up in a disaster for the attackers if they didn't bring enough men or didn't catch the enemy off guard enough. At the same time, a successful one can destroy an army before it can put up a fight," Ser Lonmouth answered. "In Westeros, we usually relied on sentries and scouts to ensure that a large enough enemy force couldn't slip through."
"Those are unreliable. Even good sentries and scouts could be deceived or killed before they could raise an alarm. Doing so when an army is in a properly fortified camp is vastly harder. Even a small force can hold off an attacker while the rest of the army wakes up arms and perhaps puts on some armor before entering the fray."
"That might not be an issue for you, Princess," Ser Richard continued," looking pointedly at Dany's light but high-quality leather armor firmed up by a chain shirt, "but for the rest of us, sleeping into an armor is not an option."
That was sadly true. Sith Viserys missed proper modern armor, which you could spend days, if not weeks, in without having to remove unless you absolutely had to. Material and other advancements meant it was comfortable enough to allow it. Equally importantly, if you were stuck marching, the design of the boots and underlayer meant you were reasonably comfortable and safe.
In contrast, the first casualties Viserys' army suffered were among his garrison troops whose feet got fucked up during the first days of the march. Healers saw to them, and the conclusion was that only better conditioning, boots, and care for the feet could help mitigate such problems. The Sith glanced at the corner of the camp, which was taking shape around them. Marwyn and the Green Graces were busy clearing up and binding blistered and bloody feet. Many of those soldiers would ride on carts tomorrow. However, tonight, they will be taking over many of the sentry duties that didn't require them to move much around.
Hundreds of people were setting up the interior of the camp. At the same time, thousands toiled to dig a moat and stack fortifications while the rest of the army stood guard in case of a surprise attack. Frankly, Viserys didn't expect an enemy to show up this early. Barring magic, the coalition formed against him shouldn't know he was on the march, and even then, the timing didn't work for them to have dispatched a cavalry force to intercept him. That left the ever-present danger of a khalasar riding through the area with no one the wiser. Due to geography, the mountains to the east shielded the coast. More mountains and the sea kept Astapor safe from the south. A khalasar coming to the region would have to use the passes near Meereen.
However, that particular scourge wouldn't need to ride down the road to Yunkai. They could swing through the hilly badlands between the coat and mountains and strike from any direction if they so desired. The danger of such an encounter would increase as they kept moving north, becoming greater when the army eventually marched on Meereen. The forts would be key then because only the Unsullied could be relied upon to last against Dothraki without Viserys going all out using the Force. His garrison troops were not ready for such a battle by a long shot.
Later that night, the Targaryens retired to their tent after inspecting the state of the camp and looking for any issues that needed their attention. While there were many minor problems, as expected, Viserys' officers handled them adequately for the time being.
Dany collapsed in the nearest chair and sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"This is nothing like in the songs. There are constant issues!" the Princess exclaimed.
"Just be glad that we're one of the best run and set-up armies in the world," Viserys chuckled at his sister's antics. "Most people marching in our place would have many more issues to contend with."
"Carts' wheels and other things are breaking! Animals drag cargo slower than they should! People are already getting injured, and there's no enemy in sight yet!" Dany waved her hands in exasperation. "People take too long to build those damn camps of yours!"
"Experience will help with some things. Planning accounts for others," Viserys noted. Like having a bunch of carts with spare parts for all the other carts. Or carts ready to carry wounded soldiers, along with countless other little things proper planning had to account for. "Those and more are among the primary reasons I am so insistent on planning, logistics training in the academy, and preparations. If at all possible, you should win a war before it begins, and barring that, stack up the odds in your favor as much as possible."
"It sounded much better and grander before we began marching," Dany kept grumbling. The Dark Side swirled around her, fed by her negative emotions.
"That's the bard's songs and tales of people who want to remember the good parts of campaigns they've been on. Such tales always conveniently ignore all the drudge and unpleasantries that made up most of their time on the march." No matter the galaxy or even universe, some things were seemingly universal.
"I'm not sure I like it," Dany grumbled.
"There's nothing to like. What we're doing is necessary, and those things are often to endure and not enjoy."
"We'll have to endure a few weeks of this at this rate!"
"That's more time for our logistic corps and the army in general to practice their camp-making skills while on the march. This army, and every future one we will use it as a core to build upon will need the skills we are practising now. Such expertise will be invaluable during this campaign, the whole war, and in all wars to come."
Dany muttered a curse just low enough for her brother not to hear it properly.
"At least I don't have to like it!" she said aloud.
"I don't like it either, even if I am happily surprised at how few problems we've had so far. As far as you're concerned, dear sister, use your vexation. It is time to train."
Dany dragged herself from the seat with a growl, and the Dark Side happily swirled around her.
=Sith=
Part 2
=Sith=
291 AC
Meereen
Oznak zo Pahl thought the war preparations were going well. Five small mercenary companies had already arrived, setting up camps outside the city, with more and larger on the way. The hired swords were spending coin in the Pleasure Palaces and the markets, making up for some of the money spent contracting them.
War was expensive, even before an army marched, the Pahl scion was learning. There were many things the stories didn't tell about warfare, and Oznak had to learn the hard way. That stung his pride somewhat fiercely but didn't deter him. He had a chance for greatness that came once in generations. Not only for him personally but also for his House and city! Oznak was determined to seize this chance by the throat and ride it for all it was worth, no matter what indignities he had to suffer in the process.
Despite his high opinion of himself and higher opinion of his martial prowess, the Yunkai noble was aware that neither he nor his people were familiar with warfare. They were warriors, true, trained, and tested in the fighting pits. However, it had been countless generations before Yunkai went to real war. It has been a very long time since the city had a proper army, and even longer since such an army marched off to victory and glory.
Oznak, given his House's position and his father's post, heard nearly everything that happened in Meereen. Soon after, the first sellswords arrived, and when they saw the army's preparation, they all scoffed and laughed at it. At first, the noble scion was offended. How does that rabble dare mock him and his companions!? Yet, those were experienced warriors who knew war, even if they were generally rabble with a few men of quality spread among them. They knew what they were doing and talking about; otherwise, the sellswords wouldn't be here. Meereen paid for the best, or at least reasonably competent. They needed brutal killers, winners too, to face Unsullied, led by a sorcerer, and that was what they got.
Thus, Oznak spoke with his father and the officers of the City Guard in his closest confidence. He talked with chroniclers working for his House and those of his closest allies.
It burned to figure out that the rabble might know what they were talking about. Pride and honor demanded that Oznak ignore them, for how could such men of no consequence know better than a scion of house Pahl? More importantly, the more he learned through agents and allies, the clearer it became that making a proper army required work that was meant for slaves, servants, and occasionally hired help, not proper nobles! Oznak wanted to dismiss those revelations, yet doing so could endanger, if not undermine his vision for a glorious Meereen, and that simply wouldn't do! Instead, the noble gathered his closest companions to tour the sellsword camps and see how they prepared for a campaign.
Watching the rabble train and prepare for a march and an inevitable siege at its end was a revelation. Oznak quickly recognized that there was nothing wrong with his and his companions' individual training as warriors. However, that was a far cry from training to wage war together. More importantly, he kept seeing officers mix up with the rabble and get their hands dirty to ensure everything was ready for the coming campaign.
Many of Oznak's companions scoffed at that. The Pahl scion scowled yet didn't dismiss what he saw out of hand. He had slaves and the rare hired man to do such things for him because they were below his notice. What they were doing was no proper work for someone of his station. Yet, how could Oznak know if those people were doing things right? Or, worse, not sabotaging the army's preparation? Too many of them were slaves, and the military was preparing to fight the one force in the world that might offer them freedom. Oznak hadn't thought about it in that light, and this realization sent him reeling. He had much to ponder and discuss with his father.
Things might have to change if Oznak was to successfully drag Meereen to a glorious future!
=Sith=
291 AC
Yunkai
Envoys from Tolos brought prisoners captured in the first battle of the war. Their navy won a grand victory, crushing many Principality ships and seizing cargo vessels heavy with food. This was an auspicious beginning of the war, Agnak zo Ghaqa thought. The Wise Masters cheered at the sight of the captives parading through the streets, and crowds of citizens screamed their throats raw at the sigh of victory! All the prisoners were once again in chains as it was proper. Most of them were "liberated" slaves and such unnatural things had to be properly punished. The whole point of the war was to ground it in the face of every slave in existence that their lot wouldn't change, so they should keep their heads down and endure the will of their betters!
Nearby, Grazdan mo Eraz sat surrounded by exiles from Astapor, who were eagerly whispering in his ear. They were clearly elated at the auspicious start of the war. Under different circumstances, Agnak might have been peeved that their allies attacked before everyone was ready. However, denying so much food to Astapor was going to make the war shorter and cheaper, ensuring that they would have to besiege the crazy Valyrian Sorcerer for much shorter than otherwise. Agnak might have been no military man, for Yunkai had no military, but even he knew that in sieges in particular, and wars in general, diseases were a greater killer than the deadliest of Unsullied. The shorter the siege, the better off everyone would be.
Grazdan stood up, his hard, lean frame contrasting with the plump figures of the exiles surrounding him. He smiled a thin, white-lipped smile and spoke aloud, nearly shouting.
"Hear me, good people of Yunkai! Watch order prevail!" He waved at the chained slaves below them. "Those fools grasped for what will never be theirs and must be punished accordingly for rising up against their betters! We will make an example of them, for all to see! We will pave the way to Astapor with their crucified bodies, leaving them to die begging in the desert!"
The slaves watching the show lowered their heads, hoping not to be noticed by their betters. Everyone else was gleefully cheering, aware of why an example had to be made and wholeheartedly approving of it. After all, every citizen and visitor of Yunkai benefited from slavery. More often than not, their livelihoods depended on it.
Agnak could see the hand of the exiles in this, though he wasn't really surprised. They simply had to make a harrowing and pointed example for every slave daring to grasp for freedom to remember until their dying days. That was ultimately why they had to crush the Principality of Astrapor and kill the very idea it stood for under Viserys Targaryen. Crushing the latest, and hopefully last, Valyrian Warlord in the process was simply a nice bonus.
Days later, the work crews and guards happily crucifying people on the road to Astapor would first encounter Viserys' army marching for Yunkai. After all, why send scouts for an enemy you knew was hiding behind their city's walls, waiting for the inevitable hammer blow to drop?
=Sith=
291 AC
Essos
"Are we there yet?" Dany pouted.
To their credit, the Royal Guard managed not to snicker and earn themselves the ire of a young Sith in training. The last time someone slipped, they volunteered to be her sparring partner and had to ride on a cart with the medical casualties for the next two days.
Nevertheless, those who managed to keep their smirks off their faces were few and far between. Even then, their amusement tingled with exasperation was impossible to hide.
"We are three to four days at this rate, Princess," Harlor Flaerorlan spoke gruffly in a thick Norvoshi accent.
Like many among the Royal Guard, he was a former slave, vouched by Ser Lonmouth. He had been captured by Dothraki during a raid on Norvos' outskirts before eventually ending up in the fighting pits of Astapor. The man was a deadly axeman trained by the infamous Bearded Priests, proudly wearing an ax-shaped brand on his 's honor and worldview demanded that he repay the debt he owed to the Targaryens, and he believed that the best way to do so was to pledge his axe as a guardsman.
"I've walked this path a few times before, when my masters," the Norvoshi spat at that, "wanted me to fight for prizes in Yunkai or Meereen before bringing me back to Astapor."
At the time, the Targaryens were riding at the head of the column, allowing them to be among the first to see a few of their scout galloping towards the army. That didn't bode well – they would be doing so only if there was important news.
"Halt the column. Prepare for deployment!" Viserys barked an order, and his officers hurried to obey.
As it turned out, there was no army coming to meet them in the field or a cavalry force ready to harass them. Instead, Viserys decided that the slavers of Slaver's Bay were intent on playing stupid games. However, that wasn't what the pale-faced, furious scouts looked like they were about to report.
"Ser Lonmouth, you will keep my sister safe if there's trouble. I will be dealing with whatever problem we're about to encounter," Viserys declared while Dany stiffened beside him. She glared mutinously at him, earning herself a glower in return. "You aren't ready yet for a proper battle."
"My Prince," The first scout saluted after bringing a panting horse to a halt at the head of the column. "We have grave news to report. The bastards are crucifying people along the road. They fled when they recognized us, allowing us to go see who it was. I recognized one of the poor wretches; he was an officer on the ships we lost! They also had a group of prisoners they murdered before running away!"
The words didn't quite register in Viserys' mind for a few heartbeats. He was aware that crews from those warships and the merchant vessels likely survived and were prisoners. It was almost certain they were enslaved, as it was customary here. However, something like this? Crucifying his people? Torturing them to death, in other words? Playing terror games with the likes of him? With a Sith? That was pure madness.
"I see. We will ride there. Get me Marwyn and a few of the Green Graces with appropriate escort," Viserys decided. "Spread out and scout the area in case this is a trap," he added before glancing at Dany. "Ride with me, sister. It is time to see what our path forward entails."
Dany nodded grimly at this, her irritation at the plodding pace forgotten.
The army continued its march behind them at an even slower pace while the Targaryens and their Royal Guard rode ahead, with scouts spreading in search of an ambush.
There was no ambush. Just a few carts with wooden beams, nails, and ropes. More importantly, there was a row of chained people, recently killed with spears. The same was true for a poor bastard hauled up on a recently raised cross, bound to it with ropes.
"So this is how it must be," Viserys muttered after observing the murder scene. Beside him, Dany vibrated with boiling rage. He could easily get an impression of what had her so winded up. Those were their people some witless bastards brutalized and murdered out of hand… and he had been hammering in her head that you took care of your people, so they would be loyal and take care of you in turn.
"Marwyn, you and the Green Graces will take care of our people. After the army marches by and sees what awaits us if we lose, you'll tend to them and bring them home for a funeral with full honors," The Sith kept a sinister smile off his face. This was propaganda gold, which would hammer in the point that it was a victory or death, or worse, for his people. In fact, it was now almost inevitable that the war or coming wars would escalate into a full-blown crusade against slavers and slavery. Frankly, Viserys was all right with it.
"This cannot stand!" Dany hissed, seeking her brother's gaze with blazing eyes.
"No. We will be making an example of the Wise Masters, and Meereen's rulers will follow if they don't get the hint."
