Chapter V
Baelor
The King's Solar
My uncle was understandably confused by my "episode" on Maiden's Day and sought clarification. It was not without an amount of cheekiness that I told him the truth. More or less.
"There is to be a change of plans. We shall go to war with Dorne, but first I shall gather a host and go to Andalos, I shall humble the Pentoshi and be a pilgrim on the Sacred Hill." I told him, a bit anxious for his response."
"Being pious is well and good, nephew, but what in the gods' name made you come up with such a plan ?" all but yelled Viserys Targaryen. On his face was planted a figure of perplexity, mixed with a generous mix of annoyance and a desire to tear out the hair from his head. Probably from my head as well. "Have you gone mad ?"
"I was mad yesterday, my lord Hand." I told him with a curt voice, a hint of laughter nevertheless hiding between my words. "I assure you I am quite sane today."
"Then whatever reason you have for such a sudden change of plans?" my uncle inquired, pacing around my solar, and threateting to wear the Myrish carpet under his trodding feet. "I half feared that when your brother died you meant to come to a peace with Dorne. And now you seem to have a newfound thirst for battle."
"I was mad yesterday, that's why I mean to bring war into Andalos, uncle! I said with a tone that brooked no argument. "Please be silent, and let me tell my truth! What do you know of dragon dreams?"
"Dragon dreams, nephew? You mean to say that whatever plagued Daenys the Dreamer now plagues your resting hours? It bodes not to overthink such visions halfway to madness, nephew. Such dreams are always vague and foggy, and no amount of wise men have tried to divine the future from them, to no avail. I would not have you lost to such. Even I, quite often, dream of a wave of cold and snow coming from the far North, and feel like that the Stranger himself marches with it. But the Long Night was thousands of years ago, and whatever might come it is not to be in our lifetime if the Gods do not hate us."
"I know what dream you speak of, for I dreamt it also, uncle, but it was not dragons that sent me dreams, but gods. The Other may not come today, nor tommorow, they may not come for a hundred forty and six years, yet come they will. But that is not what I dreamed. Whatever madness a Targaryen might found in parsing vague dreams is nought compared with what visions the Seven send. But seeing the Divine Eye would serve to crack one's mind. Yet a maiden's song has relieved me of madness, fear not."
"And what did the Seven command? To wage holy war on Pentos and conquer Andalos, while the Dornish live with their treachery? Taking a Free City is no easy or swift matter. It will take years to take it and years to keep it. And what will the Braavosi think of it? Will your gods protect you from a Faceles Man come to take your life in the night, Baelor? You worship the Crone, boy, I thought you more wise than this!" Viserys' mood grew angrier and more worried with every word out of his mouth, his pacing quickened and his hands started wringing.
"I do not mean to conquer Pentos, uncle. The Pentoshi Flatlands are wide and rich, full of orchards, farms and mines. I meant to loot and sack the estates of cheesemongers and slavemaster, and take their bondmen out of their chains. The Pentoshi has long put their noses in the Dornish matter, it is time for them to be taught a lesson. It is not conquest I am after, only a punitive expedition, if you will – whatever sellsword they send against us we will crush. ("Though my grudges are long and hopefully my life longer" – I muttered under my breath) And from there to the Velvet Hills, the road is short. It is for stones the Seven send me forth, not war. The Seven Stones, which should mean something to you, if your septon taught you well."
"But they are lost" said my uncle, his wrath now simmering lower and his pacing slower.
"And yet the gods showed me where they are, at the headwaters of the Little Rhoyne, inside a hollow hill. I know what you wish to tell me – that one should not always trust dreams. But the Doom came after Daenys' dreams and it is not for dreams' sake I wish to sail across the Sea. It is for fear of dreams. If one dream brings such madness, I shudder at more. I shall see the Will done, and hope that the gods stay silent." My will was resolute. I was informing my uncle, not convincing him. I had no wish to spend my resting hours in anxiety, fearing dreams and madness.
"Well it seems that you have sent Aegon for naught to Braavos if I have to send other men to discuss other things. Shall I summon my son back, Your Grace?" Viserys asked, his manner once again pleasing, seating at last.
"There is no reason to ruin his pleasures yet. Let him have joy of Braavosi courtesans for longer. The Seven know that I shall have lesser use of him than they."
"Then we shall see the King's will done, your Grace." said the Lord Hand and departed.
And I sat and planned. Whatever the Andalosi expedition shall be, it was not to be a proper crusade. Not yet at least. Perhaps years later, when new incomes from Dorne will see the treasury fuller, and the cold dish of revenge will be served with a side of irony – Dornish gold serving the downfall of the Pentoshi.
A punitive expedition, men with fire and sword. A chevauchee, in another world's words. I would have ten or twenty thousand men, and set fire to Pentoshi estates, take their crops and their herds, their gold and their silver, their jewels and silky garments. I would tear apart their manses, their towers and palaces, and leave them flee on foot for the safety of Pentos – if they could escape the swift horses of my knights. But most importanly, I would take their slaves. I would save what few and diminished Andals remained, take them across the Sea, return them to the loving embrace of the Faith, and in this replenish in numbers some what the Realm lost with the Winter Fever.
I would have the Oakenfist provide aid to the Braavosi, and harass the ships of Pentos. And when it was all said and done, I would yet still give leave to Westerosi mariners to take whatever ship of Pentos they might "reasonably" suspect of holding slaves, with the King's own assent.
I would take men from the Crownlands. Arryn would surely join me, eager to prove his faith. Tyrell and Reachmen to prove their chivalry. Lannister and Baratheon and Tully to, not to prove themselves any lesser. And septons, to provide relief for the souls of the dying. The Faith would surely contribute to my expedition's coffers – not to prove themselves unworthy. They shall give and take no loot – for septons take no spoils. And when I shall find the Seven Stones, all shall look in wonder. And the Faith shall have its spoils. And whatever gold remained in my hands, it will surely find its way to the Faith, once I found the ways to have them use it for my means – for teaching the illiterate, for healing the sick, for providing for the orphan, the widow and the infirm.