Chapter XV: Wars, Words and Wonders
The lands of Pentos were rife with many estates to be plundered. Vast fields of grains, numerous orchards with of a multitude of fruits, manses full of luxuries and fripperies, ill-trained guards, and craven slaveholders. The provisions for the army and their horses and for the beasts of burden were as such not a concern to our host.
The bounty taken from the wealth of the magisters was enough to awaken the greed inside men – gold, silver, jewels, spices, Myrish laces, Volantene glass, silks, jade, and porcelain from YiTi. The rich men of Pentos' forty families enjoyed such wealth at the expense of the multitude of slaves that laboured every day in fields and mines, without the slightest reward given or pity given. And what they had earned by foul means was now taken by sword.
Pentos had no concept of a slave gaining his freedom, and a magister could only gift his slaves to the state through his will, and not release them, save for those that worked as domestic help. One could free the tutor of his children, or their wetnurse, or his cook, but for the many fieldhands that laboured under the sun, or the miners that toiled under the grounds, such relief was not allowed.
The Pentoshi had no respect for the bounds of marriage or family of those who considered lesser, tearing them apart in search of a quick coin, or bidding them to lay with each other as they wished, in order to breed new generations for the flesh-markets. They had every right over the life and death of their slaves and exercised it with the utmost cruelty.
The smallfolk who could be considered free had a somewhat kinder life, but not a fortunate one. The lands of Pentos belonged to its wealthy, with no exception, and the manifold slaves left no place for them to find work there. So many of them lived at the outskirts of towns and cities, becoming singers and tumblers, debasing themselves before the great and wealthy, to earn a meagre living.
The proximity of Pentos and Braavos and their many wars did nothing to ease the state of slavery in this so-called Free City. It was as if in their pride, the magisters made slavery much crueller to spite their Braavosi rivals and their First Law.
I had landed a host of almost seven thousand men and fifteen thousand horses on the shores of the Flatlands and advanced, raiding and burning, towards the Little Rhoyne were the purpose of my quest laid. I had divided the army in three columns, as to bring fire and sword to a wider expanse. In turn, these columns sent forth smaller forays, and the width of destruction was as large as fifty miles. We advanced around fourteen miles per day, but our return would undoubtedly be longer, courtesy of the Valyrian road between Ghoyan Drohe and Pentos.
We stumbled across some sellsword companies, which Pentos was quick to employ, but they were a meagre lot, and time was not on the side of Pentos to employ the better one, for the Disputed Lands were far away, and many a sellsword was under contract to one or another of the Three Daughters. We came across some smaller towns, weakly fortified, who were more than eager to ransom their way to safety. Yet their entreaties were for naught, and their meagre walls fell under our assaults.
Since the Braavosi had so kindly "offered" to pay our expenses, my own share of the plunder was to make its way to the royal treasury. As king, it was my right to keep a fifth of all movable property taken and the most valuable of the loot. I had made it clear that every book found was to find its way to me, and the same to every piece of Valyrian steel weaponry or jewellery save for blades taken from the hands of a foe slain in combat. Of my own share, I intended to set two thirds aside, as to make a seventh, to await a day a new sept would be built in King's Landing, one fit to hold the Seven Stones themselves. What the Royal fleet took upon the sea was all mine to keep, for from my treasury the ships were paid, the provisions and arms were purchased, and the men onboard were paid wages from my purse. What ships of his own the Oakenfist brought to battle would have their plunder find its wat into his own coffers, save for the fifth that was owed to me.
The days thus passed as we advanced, occupying us mostly with bloodshed, and plunder, and the breaking of chains. As every war since the world began, not all men behaved themselves as their conscience bid them to. Often, I had to have such men punished according to their crimes. A man who would not obey his captain would be struck with the shaft of a lance, or if he proved obstinate, he was tied to a rope by the tail of an ass and walk behind the army. Men who drank and then fought with their comrades were struck from the rolls when it came to the sharing of bounty. Thieves would have their ears cut.
A knight of foul renown lost his arms playing dice and left his armour as pledge for a barrel of Arbor Red to a companion of his. He then furthered his infamy by attempting to force his attentions on a maiden freshly freed from her chains. To him I dealt the greatest infamy. Every knight could make a knight if the other were capable of deed or reason. The king himself, or his heir, had the same authority, though they were knight beforehand, even if they had not held a sword once. And many knights were dubbed in centuries and millennia past, but none undone. Monsters in human flesh, made Sers by virtue of a pouch of gold exchanging hands, held their titles until their dying breath. The same with men who spat on every notion of chivalry and behaved like the foulest sellsword. This young knight served as an example that would, hopefully, be followed.
Ser Alyn of Oxcross had the ill fortune of being awoken by all my four and twenty serjeants-at-arms that I brought with me to war, dragged out of his tent and bade to put on his arms and armour, which were retrieved from where they were ill-placed. And he was taken before my royal presence.
In front of all my commanders and captains, of famed knights and warriors I cut his baldric cut with my dagger and took the straps of his spurs. I unsheathed his blade and broke it on his helmeted head and spoke his sentence: "You are no longer Knight but Knave. You may not bear the title Ser or be appointed in any service on the crown's coffers, you have no right to accuse or challenge any knight. Go now and tell your shame."
Our march through the Flatlands attracted not only the attention of Pentos. The Khal Jhogo, with his ten thousand riders, sought to add to the misfortune of Pentos, and led his warriors into the Flatlands, for gold and slaves. Fortunately, our raiding parties had found of their advance, and we had the time to gather the host to its full strength before we were to give battle to them.
We gave battle at the fords of a river neither army bothered to find the name of. The Khal's screamers charged across the river into a rain of arrows loosed by archers from the Marches, felling them by tens and hundreds. And they charged into the shields and pikes of the infantry, arrayed before them, and more of them fell. When the wits of my men began to waver, the knights and hobelar charged against the horse lords, and blade meet blade, blood was shed, and by nightfall, the day was won. The savage horsemen died in their thousand by arrow, lance, pike, and sword or drowned in the river. Those who fled were chased and found the same doom as the rest. A pitiful remain fled then, returning in shame to the Grass Sea.
Khal Jhogo perished at the hand of Hendrick the Sharp-Witted, after his horse was slain, his head crushed by Hendrick's foot after he had failed to extract his sword from the stallion. Hendrick, it seemed, had grown brave on account of his own tall tales, resigned his post in the City Watch, and had taken arms and sailed across the Narrow Sea to win glory and renown. It seemed the gods held him in their favour, that such fortune should have struck him.
As befits one who had slain the commander of an enemy army, I had the man knighted, gave him fifty dragons to acquire arms and armour and a mount worthy of his new station, and promised him a village in the Crownlands to lord over. As much as his great deed was one of luck, to reward him would bolster the heart of my men, making them more eager to prove themselves in battle in hope of a reward.
I had slain myself mayhap half a dozen riders, charging forth with three Kingsguards by my side and two dozen knight following me closely. Not a deed of arms to be remembered in tales of glory, for they were poorly armed and armoured, but enough that men would see me for a warrior. It was my first taste of real battle, and as I laid that night to sleep, I could still remember the stench of the dead, the screams of the dying, the carrion crows feasting on the flesh of the slain.
Once we had reached the shore of the Little Rhoyne, the army camped in a small town, freshly sacked. It was there that the Braavosi observers, escorted by Ser Jonos, joined at last our party.
Ser Jonos, in his usual boisterous manner, had his riders take out their helmets and yell out "Long live His Grace" as I walked out of my tent. I thanked him for his service and greeted the envoys with bread and salt, as it was their due and it was to my surprise that there were more than I expected.
Once I had met with the Braavosi according to the usual courtesy, I invited the Andal war chiefs that had come this far to join me and my council in my tent, to ascertain the purpose of their arrival.
Once I enquired of their desire, Ser Qarlon was more than eager to tell it: "We have heard, o great king, of your army coming from across the Sea, to humble the slave masters and break the shackles of our people and we greatly desire to join your host and show our worth in battle alongside you."
"And what you ask for your service, brave knights? For you owe me no fealty, or loyalty, or debt to be repaid" I answered them. It was time for prudence, for I had not foreseen such before I started this conflict, and I had no desire to complicate it beyond its purpose.
"We only desire to fight by your side in your liberation of Andalos, Your Grace. And as for what do we owe you, did the High Septon not crown you as King of the Andals, and are we not Andals?" said the knight with cunning words.
"If you would speak to me of Faith, does not the Seven-Pointed Star speak of Westeros as the promised land. There is no sacredness to the land of Andalos. I have come to give battle against the enemies of my realm, not to conquer Old Andalos. I have a kingdom to reconquer at home and godless men to punish. If I break the chains of the slaves, it is because the Seven abhor slavery. I have offered to give them passage across the Narrow Sea, in the land that the Seven promised them, in my own lands, so they might live as free men."
And negotiations continued. If Ser Qarlon saw that I did not seek to conquer Andalos, he asked for help to establish anew the old kingdom and promised to swear fealty to me any my heirs. After consulting with my own council, and countless hours, I settled upon an offer for them:
"I give you my leave to bring sword and fire to everything north of Pentos and keep al plunder to yourself. If you wish for it, I will give to you and yours the same offer I give to the men I free, come across the Sea and you would have lands of your own to rule and to live. If that is not your desire, then I would give you weapons and armour, and the horses of the expedition when we return to our home shores. I would send to you septons and maesters, and gold to wage your war for Andalos. I would welcome your sons into my household and make knights of them and find husbands for your daughters. But I have not the inclination, nor the time to gain conquests in Essos, and our esteemed Braavosi allies would not look kindly upon such. It is my advice then, to seek an audience with the Sealord, and put before him your plans, and if the Seven smile upon you, they will find wisdom in carving a kingdom from Pentos and weakening their magisters. But it was not for such that the One-Who-Is-Seven sent me here."
I met then with the Braavosi again, to ease their worries. They sent new messenger to Braavos, to seek new instructions. I sent my own messengers, carrier pigeons eager to return to their dovecotes at the red keep. There were no maesters and castles here, to send ravens forth, and so I indulged in an experiment of my own. I had sent words by messenger too, who knew the matter more in depth, to bring knowledge of these negotiations to my uncle.
In that evening, a stag appeared on the hour that the sun set, white as driven snow, and I rode to hunt it, alongside a small party, Ser Oscar Tully, Ser Jonos Edgerton, Ser Olyvar Ferren, and Ser Qarlon the Andal among them. We rode long amid the ever-encroaching darkness, and yet the stag seemed as further away as it had at the beginning, leaping away as soon as we approached him.
It became night, and in the cloudy sky, only the Crone's Lantern light shining through, guiding us on our path. And it became morning again, and we had lost it from our sight, save for the muddy tracks it left behind, courtesy of the rain. Drenched to the bone, Ser Oscar advised me to return to our camp, and abandon the hunt. But I had an inkling that the omen meant much more than a night that ended in folly. I sent messenger to tell the captains that I would only return with the white stag felled, and sent for beasts of burden to carry supplies, and many more with no burden, for I suspected the Seven guided me to a treasure greater than we had acquired since we set foot in Essos.
And so, the hunt continued in the hills, following the stag to the headwaters of the Little Rhoyne. And in the morning of the seventh day, we saw the stag again.
In the shadow waters of the river, now but a creek, the white hart entered a cave inside a hill. I dismounted my steed, and with a motion of the hand, bade the rest of the hunt to remain in their places. And treading in the water, I followed the beast into the cave.
A long tunnel awaited me, the stones slippery from the stream. I walked slowly and patiently into the ever-growing darkness, nought but a few rays of sunshine peeking through. As moments passed while I ventured forth, I saw a shining light in front of me, as if from a lantern. Soon, I reached a cavern where the purpose of my quest awaited.
The cavern was full of wondrous light, as if it was midday. And in that cavern Seven Stones awaited. Roughly carved from stone, a wizened and bearded man, carrying scales of iron. A warrior, covered in carved mail, a sword in his hand, a shield at his feet. A craftsman, with a hammer in one hand, his handle of petrified wood, and head of steel, a chisel in the other hand, with a foot upon a plow. A woman, her face kind and motherly, with a gentle smile. A maiden, in a stony dress that flowed around her as it were silk, a wreath upon her head, made of ceramic flowers. A crone, her face wrinkled, a lantern in her hand, the fount of the light in the chamber, a raven carved of jet stone perched upon her shoulders. And in the middle of them all, of blackest stone, but not the molten stone of dragon lords, nor the oily one of Yeen, a dark figure in robes and hooded, his face a skull as white as snow.
And their eyes were on me, no matter if I stepped forth or backwards. I saw their eyes looking at me, felt them at the back of my head. They were the judging eyes of a father, come to scold his child for an ill deed. They were the kindly eyes of a mother, giving comfort for a scraped knee. They were the patient eye of a teacher, looking upon a pupil eager to go out and play. They were the bold eyes of a knight, throwing a challenge against overwhelming odds. They were eyes full of wisdom, looking down at the foolishness of men. They were laughing and loving eyes. They were the cold eyes of death, unblinking.
And in their godly presence, I fell upon my knees and prayed. Slowly, my companions emerged from the tunnel, looked upon the carved faces of the Seven in wonder and wave, and fell prostrate upon the cold stone floor of the cave. None saw the white hart leave the cave or pass them by on their way inside. No tracks were found of it from then. It had disappeared without a trace, his god-given purpose fulfilled.
Once the divine presence no longer overwhelmed us, we left the cave and took the Seven Stones with us and carried them back to camp, upon the backs of our mules. Seven days we rode back to camp, where worried men awaited us.