A/N: Thanks to filipinosberman and Ascalon on SB for beta-ing.
Chapter LIV: Strategic Changes
28 AC
Fourth Moon
Visenya Targaryen
All top commanders of Westeros were gathered in the command tent, a grim-faced Visenya and Rhaenys Targaryen in command in Aegon's absence. Equally grim was Arin Rada, who briefed them all on the terrible odds they now faced.
"So Braavos is an enemy, completely another party's puppet," Brandyll mused, "It's saddening and ironic, in a way."
"I never did like those Braavosi; arrogant and condescending, so unlike certain people I know," Edmund Gardener commented.
"So are you saying I'm a better option compared to them?" Arin suggested with a slight wink.
"Please don't flatter yourself, Lord Rada," Edmund quickly corrected, "I never said anything of the sort."
"Regardless, this means even with the dragons on our side, we have to be extra careful with how we fight the Black Robes," Visenya stated, and the gathered council shared nods, "Regrettably, Balerion passed from his injuries just a fortnight ago [1]."
"Damn," Orys muttered under his breath, covering his mouth with a hand, "And His Grace?"
"His wounds… will not heal quickly," Visenya mumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear but subdued in volume.
None dared to contemplate the implications, not when Westeros faced an enemy the likes of which was told only in fairy tales.
"So, Your Graces, what is to be the new battleplan?" Asked Edmund.
"Orys, if you would," Said Rhaenys.
Orys nodded and pointed to the map, moving tokens to indicate the changing troop movements.
"The Black Robes and their mutant armies have seized full control of the Free Cities themselves and several large towns within close proximity. And with all other villages and towns at risk of invasion, we have to conquer and secure every village we can, then dig in and build fortifications at each and every single one of them," Orys explained, pointing to several drawings on the map, "In the meantime, we may need to conscript some of the local Essosi into our armies."
Everyone remained silent as Orys continued.
"We will also need to renovate several ports and roads to better accommodate our supply trains and reinforcements so they suffer fewer delays. If necessary, we will need to build new forts to consolidate our gains and act as resupply points. Arin?"
Arin nodded as he pointed to several marked towns, "We've identified several ideal spots for forward outposts and castles, but we will need to protect the workers and supply caravans in the process as they make deliveries."
"We should also look to calling upon our allies in Daeria and the Summer Isles for help against this enemy," Eckard mentioned, "Daeria is our vassal and thus obligated to answer, while the Summer Isles cannot afford to ignore ships controlled by cultists. Every ally we bring into this fight - especially those who can use effective battle magic - is a boon we cannot ignore."
Many of the commanders themselves grumbled and muttered their misgivings, their Andal upbringing and the Sevenist teachings making the topic of magic a taboo. At least, what they considered a taboo.
"I don't mean to cast doubts on this course of action, but surely we can deal with this on our own?" Questioned Aethan Velaryon, "This is a war waged against the Iron Throne by the Triarchy and Braavos, surely they have no real reason to get involved? I can understand bringing in Daeria, but the Summer Isles are not our vassal."
"Actually, the Summer Isles have reasons to get involved now," Arin informed, "I've received word from my niece Drusaya that several of their fleets were attacked by the Black Robes, and they even landed troops on the isle of Walano, capturing and sacking many villages and towns before they were able to repel them."
Many now whispered fiercely in disbelief at this turn of events; why were the Black Robes going out of their way to provoke a power that until now had chosen to abstain from the war? What was their purpose?
As if to answer their unasked question, Arin then said, "Sharitan [2] Drusaya also said that the Black Robes were killing people en masse, sacrificing them on large altars dedicated to their dark God: The Lion of Night."
Many gasped, unable to mask their horror and disgust at such a thought. Orys took a few moments to compose himself before saying, "This is unfortunately true, as confirmed by our agents in the Summer Isles."
"Then there's no further room for doubt," Aethan nodded, "And yet, I cannot help but be sceptical of our odds. After all, this is the first time we've ever had to fight magic on such a huge scale."
"In my opinion, this is a valuable learning experience for all of us," Arin commented to everyone's surprise, "I think one way or another, we would have had to fight a magic-wielding faction of such power and magnitude. Better we learn painful but valuable lessons now than have to leave the burden to our descendants. Isn't it, Your Graces?"
"I… cannot deny that, Lord Rada," Visenya admitted, "And this is why we must be extra cautious in our battles; we must not pointlessly waste our men and our dragons, and focus on fighting in conditions that are favourable to us."
"But how can we defeat these warlocks when most of us do not have magic?" A nervous Riverlander commander asked.
"In war, there are many ways to kill a Human being," Orys firmly asserted, "And since the Black Robes are as strong as a feeble Human, we need only kill them the same way we kill other Humans."
"Lord Baratheon is right," Arin agreed, "On the other hand, we need to focus on whittling down their numbers of ships, until we can form a naval blockade around our enemies including Braavos."
"As for the mutants, I suggest we deploy our troops in defensive formations, using all manner of tricks from ditches to spikes, fire traps and earthen works," Brandyll Tarly put forth, "Our Tegio formation will hold, but respectfully speaking, I cannot say the same for some of our other… colleagues."
All turned to lob dirty looks at Vickon Greyjoy, who shrugged his shoulders.
"And exactly why are you all looking at me like that?" He asked.
"My apologies, Vickon; we often tend to hear how many unfortunate Ironborn Reavers tend to be mauled by hordes of mutants due to their penchant for raiding," A Westerlander Lord taunted.
"And you milk-drinkers think to insult our ways?" Vickon replied.
"Enough," Visenya ordered.
Vickon huffed but desisted, as did the other Lords.
"If I might make a suggestion, Your Graces?" Asked Eckard.
"What is it, then?" Asked Rhaenys.
"There is one way we can make use of our superior formations, your dragons and deception to our advantage against the mutant hordes," Said Eckard, "Tegonia (The Reach), Paletillia (The Crownlands), Gosmerch (The Neck) and Dornia (Dorne) have disciplined troops trained in the art of strong formations, so we can use them as both defensive mobile strongholds and as bait for the enemy."
"And you think to make us stick our necks out on the line when we can easily hold down and defend?" Brandyll inquired.
"I would not word it so accusingly, but yes, Lord Tarly," Eckard said, and Brandyll grunted, "In fact, we absolutely need to start baiting them out, lull the Black Robes into a false sense of complacency. Once they get arrogant and careless, they will move into the open, and we can ambush them with our lighter, more mobile troops or shoot them with archers."
"I second this idea," Orys said, "The fewer Black Robes, the better."
"Aye, though one thing I am concerned about is that they'll be wise to such moves," Brandyll commented, "Do you not remember that Princess Elaegelle was poisoned?"
"She is under treatment and will recover, but Brandyll's right," Arin nodded, "I would suggest that everyone here be doubly cautious and wary of assassination attempts."
All shared nods of agreement.
"What of Pentos, Norvos and Lorath? Are they not in close proximity to Braavos?" Asked Rhaenys, "Is there not a risk of them falling prey to the Black Robes?"
Arin, Brandyll and Orys shared sighs.
"The Black Robes are passing through their lands unmolested."
Their shared answer shocked the rest of the commanders save the Targaryens, though for some they quickly understood the reason why.
"Did they thrash their forces as they nearly thrashed ours?" Asked Aethan.
"Exactly that," Orys grumbled.
Aethan sighed as he scratched his head, "Do we have to worry about Black Robe presence in their lands, at least?"
"Thankfully, no," Orys added, "In fact, they're completely leaving them alone, for some reason, as if they don't have any value."
Some of the gathered commanders snickered and snorted at this.
"At least we don't have more enemies for now, and this shall suffice," Visenya said, "Arin, which city should we focus on first?"
"Tyrosh, Your Grace," Arin answered, "Taking the city will solidify our control of the Narrow Sea, and it is the closest enemy we ought to subdue."
"Then it is settled," Visenya declared, "Once we secure its mainland holdings, Tyrosh will be the first to be conquered. Dismissed."
IIOII
Elaegelle groaned as she slowly blinked awake, her groggy eyes wincing at the bright sunlight from the windows above. She gasped, her throat parched as a barren desert, her pale complexion almost bone white.
"Your Highness, are you awake?" Said a physician with concern.
"Mn…"
She felt a strange weakness and lethargy in her body movements, unable to get up on her own, as if her spine were made of jelly.
"Help me up…"
The physician quickly complied, and then fed a cup of water to her parched lips. Each drop was like the finest wine, and she drank greedily before asking for a refill.
"What happened…?" She muttered, her voice weak and subdued.
"You have been unconscious for close to two weeks, Your Highness," Said the physician, "Your men have held their position in this village under the command of Ser Calderon meanwhile."
"I see," Nodded Elaegelle.
"However, there is… terrible news Grand Duke Rada has ordered me to share with you," The physician said reluctantly, his eyes slightly averted, "It concerns your father."
A sinking feeling formed in Elaegelle's gut at the physician's tone, and she said, "Tell me."
The physician sighed heavily, "His Grace Aegon Targaryen has been mortally wounded, and is in a state of terrible pain; he has been bedridden for the rest of this campaign. His dragon, Balerion the Black Dread, died of his wounds in mere days."
Elaegelle let out a shuddering sigh, her hand clasping her mouth as she tried to compose herself and digest this news.
"Where is the Grand Duke right now?" Asked Elaegelle.
"I'm here, Elaegelle."
The physician quickly stood up and bowed, only for Arin to hold up a hand, "At ease. Might we have privacy for a while?"
"Of course, My Lord," The physician said as he took his leave.
Arin took a seat by Elaegelle's bed, his face hard with worry.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"I'm alright, Lord Arin," Elaegelle smiled, "But I feel… tired."
"That's to be expected; you were scratched by a poisoned arrow and rendered comatose," Arin explained, "It was no known poison used, and you were given the strongest antidotes we had on hand, but for a while, we thought we lost you."
"I suppose I'm blessed by the Fourteen to last this long," Elaegelle weakly smiled, "How goes the war effort right now?"
"I wouldn't say we're losing, but our momentum's significantly slowed," Arin said, "Especially now that the Black Robes' magic is potent enough to wound dragons, we've no choice but to take the slow and cautious approach, slowly conquering and annexing every village we can and building up logistical infrastructure to support our campaign."
"I see…" Elaegelle muttered, "What of my men?"
"I've reorganised them into a battalion directly under your command, and your Colonel rank is still in effect," Arin smiled, patting Elaegelle on the shoulder, "Congratulations, by the way. I'm proud of you."
Elaegelle smiled in gratitude, her worries and fears melting away to reflect a tranquil inner peace. Then at that moment the door opened to reveal both Rhaenys and Visenya Targaryen hurriedly rushing to her side, clasping her hands with teary eyes.
"My daughter! You're alright! Thank the Fourteen that you survived!" Visenya exclaimed, extreme relief causing her shoulders to shake.
"How are you? Are you still weakened? Do you need additional rest?" Asked Rhaenys, fretting over her like a mother over her newborn.
"I am alright, thank you for your concern," Elaegelle smiled reassuringly, "I'm just a little tired, that's all."
"Thank goodness," Visenya sighed with relief, all tension fading from her shoulders, "Please do not push yourself."
"Excuse me, Lord Rada," Said Rhaenys, "Might we have some time alone?"
"Of course, as long as you need," Arin bowed and took his leave.
Once the three of them were alone in the room, Elaegelle then asked, "Why did you ask him to leave, Mother? Is there something not even he can listen to?"
"I'm afraid so," Visenya admitted, then her face curled in exceeding sourness, "Your more martial-minded siblings are… jealous of your promotion. They've begun moving their own armies with exceeding recklessness, and if not for the other generals under their command their own forces would face annihilation."
"What about Aenys?" Asked Elaegelle, a conflicted expression on her face.
"He and the bureaucratic-minded of your siblings are handling the logistics," Rhaenys informed, "Although…"
"What is it?" Asked Elaegelle again, "Just tell me."
Rhaenys sighed.
"With your recent promotion and achievements in the battlefield, almost every single one of your siblings is now regarding you differently. With Maegor's side, they see you as a threat to their glory," She muttered disappointedly, "With Aenys's side, they've become increasingly hesitant to talk with you."
Aenys as the more pacifistic of her siblings always tended to shy away from Maegor's infamously hot temper, and against their intimidation they folded as easily as paper. Elaegelle did not have fond memories of Aenys's cowardly behaviour, though since he never did anything to hurt her, it was perhaps one of his few redeeming traits.
She could never imagine such a skinny, pacifistic boy ever mustering the courage to hurt someone willingly for any reason.
"So long story short, they're unsure what to make of me and are not taking well to my sudden change?" Elaegelle concluded.
"That is the long and short of it, yes," Rhaenys said, "But no matter what they may say, we're proud of you. Your father is proud of you."
Happiness flashed across her eyes and her lips formed a slow smile, before it was replaced by bitter regret.
"I wish I was there to help Father," She muttered.
"What happened was terrible, dear daughter, but there's nothing any one of us could have done about it," Visenya comforted, "All we can do is make sure these Black Robes regret ever daring to harm our house."
"Of course," Elaegelle smiled.
Yet there was a cloud of doubt in her eyes; should she not be happy she is capable of helping her house in such trying times as a commander? Should she not be overjoyed with being her parents' pride and joy? Why did she feel less joy now than when Arin Rada praised her?
Standing just outside the door, Arin sighed to himself before taking his leave.
I only hope Maegor doesn't worsen things for us.
[1] The death of Balerion himself was an ominous sign for the people of Westeros and House Targaryen, a sign of worse things to come.
[2] Sharitan - The official title of the supreme ruler of the Summer Isles, with Drusaya Xadoq, adopted daughter and heir to the late Prince Tarral Xadoq as the current holder. It roughly translates as 'Master Queen'.