The Eminence in GOT-Chapter 51: The Beginning of the War (Part 2) The Renaissance of the Age

Chapter 51 - The Beginning of the War (Part 2) The Renaissance of the Age

500 gems = bonus Chapter

Advanced Chapters at:

patreon.com/posts/eminence-in-got-125798646

***

The first day of the second month of the year 299 A.D.

Castle Osgiliath, Valley of the Sunflame, Dorne.

Very often many things remain behind the scenes.

When we read and study biographies or memoirs of great people, we see only their bright achievements that left their mark in history. But if you look closely, between each of their new deeds or discoveries were months, or even years of hard and quiet labor. Years of preparation and routine unnoticed by anyone, which became the foundation of their rise and growth.

This is what happened to me. In between the political ravings of the Sunspear and the occasional diplomatic trips to the Free Cities and Slaver's Bay, I was preoccupied with the main bane of every normal ruler.

Bureaucracy.

That's one thing I didn't expect to encounter in Westeros, it was her. Back when I'd been at the Citadel, studying maester accounting, I'd been exposed to the local way of doing things. The realities of the local realities were once again a surprise - instead of a simple single entry, the Maesters had created and implemented a double-entry bookkeeping system two thousand years ago. What began to be applied in Europe only at the end of the 14th century in Genoa and Hansa, the main trading giants of the Western world, was invented here at the behest of the Gardeners, who were tired of their island vassals, the Hightowers and Redwins, concealing part of their income without enriching their suzerains. Even later, this system, along with the Citadel's envoys, spread to all of Westeros, and later to Valyria. The latter, though with a creak, adopted a more convenient way of doing business, despite all the disdain and prejudice with which the dragon lords looked towards the Sunset Kingdoms.

Back to the bureaucracy. For the most part, the local lords were unaware of such a concept as "bureaucracy", doing most of the work themselves or dumping it on maesters or personal accountants. The only exceptions were the owners of large cities like Staromest or White Harbor. They already had their own customs office, checking ships entering the port, and small departments of treasurers who counted every dime that went into their lords' coffers.

Osgiliath was not a large city, but over the past twenty years it had become an important commercial point, a trade route to the hinterlands of Dorne, the Dornish Marks cut off by the Red Mountains, and the central Expanse. When you add in its own industries, trade fleets, and other incidental income, the amount of paperwork needed to oversee it all became overwhelming.

That's why, fifteen years ago, when I returned home from my trip to Meereen and more or less settled my backlog, I rushed to the Citadel to get the personnel I needed. This trip cost me a lot - nerves, money and normal relations with the only local university. But I achieved my goal: two geniuses, Marvin and Quibern, who had known each other since the days of their studies, came to the castle with me, and almost immediately set up their laboratories in the cellars and began to do everything that the Citadel had forbidden them to do, and forty candidates, twenty of whom, wearing a golden link around their necks, were turned into my first officials.

This twenty, called by the proud word "secretariat," handled all matters of minor to moderate complexity, like the logistics of internal warehouses or army supply, leaving me to handle only the most important matters. At the same time, their surveillance was at a very high level - each of them had several observers assigned to them, watching their every move. A measure seemingly unnecessary, but necessary - through these guys passed papers with a value of thousands of gold, and if even one of them turns out to be dishonest... the losses will be very great.

«Father, where are our promissory notes with the House of Atrice? - Fiora called out to me, distracting me from my monotonous examination of the ledger.

«Fifth drawer, third cabinet. - I answered reflexively, glancing out the window. The sun was already setting behind the mountains, which meant we'd been working for over five hours. - Why do you need them?

As Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and head of a large trading house, I had to remember not only the names of the noble families of Westeros, but also the trading dynasties of the Narrow Sea. The Atrys, for example, were one of the old merchant families of the World, owning several lace workshops and trading since the days of Valyria. You couldn't say they were rich, but you couldn't call them poor.

«You do remember that recently there was an escalation of conflict over the Disputed Lands, don't you? Because of that, two Atris ships were robbed by the Lysenians on the Steps. - Fiora replied, showing a small piece of paper normally used for raven mail letters. - This is a good opportunity to take away one of their swag.

«Are you sure we can do this? - The only reason the Lords of Westeros hadn't yet broken into gold, goods, and food-rich (due to the absence of Winter everywhere but the northern coast) Essos was because of the monster trading dynasties that dwelled there. They were still willing to tolerate merchants from the Sunset Kingdoms selling their wares and sailing away, but those who wanted to establish themselves there and squeeze them out were as bad as moths in a closet. In fifteen years of trying, I had only managed to acquire one dyehouse in Tirosh, two glassblowers in Mira, five distilleries in Lys, a cheese factory in Pentos, and one fishing farm in Bravos. A very modest result. In Norvos, Quochor, Lorath, and the Volantis domains, even though I was patronized by the Belroes, I was sent straight out, without any frankness, saying that "a barbarian from the Western filth has no business here." Freaks.

So the opportunity to take over the old spinning mill in Mir, on a scale not inferior to the first terrestrial manufactories, was very tempting.

«They owe us nearly forty thousand oner for incense, cloth, and paper. - The foster daughter smiled and placed the receipt on my desk, with wax seals of fire, spider webs, and an elephant-the symbols of the Tempers, the Artisians, and the Council of Magisters of the World. - They simply have no choice.

«Krh... Well done, daughter. - I said, getting up from my desk chair and fluffing up the slightly wrinkled girl. Still, each of my children had their faults and shortcomings and Fiora was no exception.

She spent most of her time here - in a small office hidden in the depths of the castle, where most of the issues related to our house were solved, and helped me with my work. I could not have found a more reliable, intelligent and loyal assistant, willing to do anything for the sake of my family. In the future, when the crisis in the kingdoms will pass and I will retire, she will be Lyon's right hand and the one who will help him to increase and preserve the wealth of the House of Tempers.

«By the way, before I forget. - Slapping myself lightly on the forehead, I remembered, pulling a letter out of a hidden drawer. - Give this to those fools and tell them it's urgent.

«What is it? - My daughter asked thoughtfully, looking at the purple wax seal.

«An order to buy grain from Volantis and Mir. Twenty thousand gallons of wheat to be exact. - At the sound of the figure, two small golden eyes nearly fell out of their orbits, and his face took on an expression of paramount shock. - A letter had arrived from a good acquaintance of mine at the Citadel.

Taking the recently received message out of my pocket, I began to watch as little by little the surprise very quickly disappeared in my daughter's eyes, replaced by an understanding of the reason for my order.

«Winter was near. - Once again the Stark family motto proved true. The days in the North and the Riverlands were getting shorter, which meant that the Long Summer was ending and the coming Winter would be long. And with the Stark army marching south, the Lannisters plundering the Riverlands, the Tyrells summoning lords to Highgarden where Renly Baratheon had recently arrived, and the Royal Navy gathering at Dragonstone, food in the Seven Kingdoms was about to get very expensive.

«I understand, Father. Everything will be done to the best of my ability. - Fiora replied with a short nod.

«Go and get some rest first. - I said, noticing that she already had black circles under her eyes from the constant work. - There is a lot of money and people in the kingdoms, and you are my only one.

«Very well, father. Oh..." Fiora replied with a smile, oohing and a bit embarrassed when I suddenly put my arms around her, lifting her slightly off the floor.

"How much she's grown. I can't even believe it's been twenty years."

Knock...Knock...Knock....

"What bad timing." - I sighed tiredly, putting my daughter down and walked to the locked door and opened it. - What is it?

«My lord. - Ari, a small and swarthy Dornish man who served as one of many small servants in the castle, carrying papers and running errands, addressed me. - Lady Nymeria Sand has just arrived at the castle. She requests a meeting with you on behalf of her uncle, Prince Doran.

"I'll have to give Alaric a thrashing. Is that how she got into the city unnoticed?" - I groaned, even though I knew the answer. Oberyn's snake can be too cunning, too agile, too charming when she wants to be. So it will not be difficult for her to disguise herself and get into the city on one of the merchant ships. The only question is why? - Okay, Ari, I have a mission for you. Take Fiora to Jekyll, where she'll say a few words and give him the message, and then take her to her chambers, making sure she doesn't stay with those hookworms for another hour. Got it?

«Uh-huh. - The twelve-year-old shook his head.

«Good for you. - I grinned, tossing him a brass star as a small "bonus". - Nymeria's in the guest quarters now, isn't she?

I nodded in the affirmative and headed upstairs, through the spacious but deliberately confusing corridors and staircases of the inner castle. Doran wouldn't just send one of his nieces incognito. Then the message was important, and I should listen to it immediately.

***

I have always been a fan of the minimalist style. Laconicity, expressiveness of means, simplicity, precision, clarity of composition and finally the space created thanks to it, captivated me back on Earth, when I was a student of architecture university and became the basis of many of my works and projects. Unfortunately, in this world it was not possible to use it.

Noblesse oblige.

The position obliges the lords of the western and eastern continents to flaunt their wealth always and everywhere. Jewelry, clothing, festivals, residences, and naturally - the interior.

The guest reception room, where Oberyn's second oldest daughter was found, was one of the most beautiful places in the entire castle. Elegant iron tables, soft velvet sofas, with numerous cushions lying next to them, tubs of fresh flowers and trees with succulent fruits hanging on their branches and exotic birds from the Summer Isles that had made their nests there. A very beautiful and ornate place, the only purpose of which was to show that you were a guest of the Tempers, a race with connections and power, so behave yourselves.

But my guest tonight was not impressed in the slightest.

«Nymeria, Gods be damned, stop flirting with my guards! - Slapping myself on the forehead in frustration, I bellowed as soon as I entered the guest room.

«Well, Uncle, they're so boring. - The long-legged brat was pouting like a little girl as she stepped away from one of the Guardsmen guarding the room, whom she'd been rubbing her body against a few seconds ago. And even a sleeping warg didn't scare her! - All they do is stare at me with their lecherous eyes, but they don't want to get down to business.

«Because they know what will happen to them after that. - I said, looking into the cold and impartial eyes that did not change even after Nymeria's attempts. Still, professionalism in the Black Guard has always been the first place, and if I notice even a trace of that "lecherous look", then tomorrow this guard woke up as a private swordsman in the barracks. - You're out. I need to speak privately with my niece.

When the doors behind the four guardsmen slammed shut I immediately fell into a comfortable chair and looked at the bastardess collapsed on the neighboring couch. Now the illegitimate granddaughter of the deceased Belicio Toragos was already twenty-five years old, and she was a perfect example of the fusion of Dornish and Volantian blood. Slender and supple as a weeping willow, with high cheekbones, full lips, milky white skin, and straight black hair braided in a tight braid that lay in a sharp cape on her forehead like her father's, this Dornish girl easily attracted the attention of others. And if you remember that from her father she inherited her father's intelligence and snake cunning, then in general it turns out to be the standard of Sand Snake, to which her sisters should aspire.

If it weren't for one thing...

«Nymeria, that's enough. - I sighed tiredly, watching as the girl, like a cat, curved up on the couch, showing off her upper dignity. - You can embarrass the other lords with your antics, not the one who saw you naked playing in the mud in the backyard of the castle.

The Dornish girl's main problem was her voluptuousness, inherited from her father. Oberyn, from the first day we met, had been a man who wasn't very choosy about his affairs. Nymeria went even further - while their father traveled Westeros and competed in tournaments, his daughters lived with me. That's where the roots of them calling me uncle and me their snakes grow from. And when a thirteen year old pipsqueak was found in bed with the two sons of the head stable boy, my reaction was to flog her and put a watcher on her. The watcher turned himself in two weeks later. So did the two after him. Then Oberyn returned and took his daughters on a trip to Dorne, where the bastardess, without restricting herself in anything, had a lot of fun.

«You're boring, Uncle. How does Lady Ailis put up with you? -The snake asked, not removing the sly smile from her face.

«She just knows how to restrain her desires, unlike you. - I answered, sipping a cup of mint and honey, discreetly brought by a servant. - It's nearing evening, so let's not stall for time - why are you here, little one?

«You're as serious as ever. - Nim grinned, removing the ostentatious lust from her face and becoming completely serious. - My Lord Doran sent me to tell you that events in the Seven Kingdoms are taking a dangerous and unpredictable turn, though you know it yourself. So now all the houses have begun to secretly mobilize their forces. The Tempers should do the same.

«Good. - I nodded, knowing exactly what Doran was doing. Yes, only Houses Stark, Lannister, Tully, and Baratheon are officially involved in the conflict. But it doesn't take a genius not to realize that the Queen of Spikes and the Old Kraken won't stay out of it to the end. And when all your neighbors are armed, staying unarmed is a very bad idea. - But why no official message?

«Uncle said that secrecy comes first. After all, our snakes have begun to catch too many king spiders and western rats. And the rose has begun to sprout towards the desert. - The hint to the spies of Varys and the rest of those who liked to know what was going on in the lands of their southern neighbor was as transparent as possible. For no matter how one looked at it, only the "noble" Starks and the frivolous Tullys did not possess any agent network on the continent. Which, by the way, they paid for when they missed the Lannisters' invasion of the Riverlands and the arrest of the head of their house.

«And if I'd had the letter with me, where would I have hidden it? - The Dornish woman added, swiping provocatively at her figure, hinting at her not-so-close attire. I wasn't fooled by that, though. Like any "fighting" woman of Dorne, Oberyn's daughter never parted with her weapon, a dozen hidden knives that could be in the neck of her unlucky victim in a few moments.

«You'd find somewhere to hide it. - I smiled, raising my glass once more and offering a drink before returning to the previous topic.

Zvyak...

«So there will be an army gathering soon?

«Yes, but later, when it will be clear whether this unrest will subside and turn into a new war. - Nymeria replied, taking a sip of her drink from her cup. - I was also ordered to find out how many men your house would be able to provide in the event of war?

«Hmm... - I thought about it, remembering the number of soldiers located in the mountains, the camp, the Grey Fortress and various factories around the world and how many I could send to the war without harming myself. - Right now, three thousand infantry at most. If you give six months, the number will increase by five hundred.

In response to my words, I was looked at with a very strange and suspicious look that said "Are you serious now?".

«Lord Temper. I know that you are a serious person, though you like to joke sometimes.'' - Nymeria said, staring at me with her piercing black eyes. - But now the joke was out of place.

«What are you talking about? - Of course, I knew what she was getting at, but I couldn't say it straight. Political talk, pure and simple.

«Even the most recent citizen of Dorne knows that you have the second largest army in the world, after the Martells. And it's much larger than the three and a half thousand you mentioned. The same guards guarding the peace of your city number about three thousand, and I'm not even talking about the ones sitting in the mountain forts.

«That's true. - I agreed with the girl, folding my arms across my chest. - But you're forgetting something, Nymeria. The soldiers you mentioned are protecting the peace of my lands, and I won't send them to war. It's bad enough that the unrest in the north has sent a flood of refugees toward the Red Mountains, and it's my men who are catching them, because Lord Vil is locked up in his castle, never leaving his bedroom with his five mistresses.

«There are too many of them anyway. - Coldly remarked the snake, exactly repeating my pose. - A thousand men would be more than enough to guard your valley, not three.

«Snake, only I decide how many people I need to keep the peace of my domain. - Removing all emotion from my voice I answered. - In the original treaty with Doran, all I had to do was provide Dorne with a strong and powerful fleet, just as the Ironwoods had done before. And I have done my part-ninety warships, with full crews, standing at the docks of the Grey Fortress, just waiting for the order to put to sea.

«Good. - Nymeria squinted unhappily, realizing that she couldn't get me to get my Guardians out of the valley. - But what about Elaina?

«What's wrong with her? - I raised my right eyebrow interestedly.

«Now in your hand-picked group of "mercenaries"... - the girl emphasized the last word in her voice. -... almost three and a half thousand warriors. veterans of the fighting in Essos. What's stopping you from calling them back? To where they're needed right now.

«I think you're minding your own business, snake. - I frowned, because this conversation was beginning to irritate me. - As you pointed out, they're mercenaries now. They have a contract with Mierin for another two years. And I'm not going to break it, ruining relations with all the families of the Great Lords, and thus the Slave Trade Gulf, for the sake of a war that hasn't started yet.

«But..." Nymeria wanted to object, but was stopped by my raised hand.

«My dear snake, no matter how friendly I am with your father and your sisters, no matter how loyal I am to Doran and grateful to House Martell for my title, there is a limit to everything. - I said stiffly, stepping forward and glaring at the unprepared woman. - My house is nothing but vassal lords. Listen to the vassal lords. Those who usually provide a maximum of five hundred people, half of whom are yesterday's peasants. Or just digging in the ground and herding goats, like on Split Claw. But for some reason you demand so much from me, as if I were one of the chief lords of the Martells, like the Daines or the Fowlers.

Pausing for a small sip of decoction to wet my throat, I continued.

«If it were so, I would not say a word against it. I would have provided a large and strong army at the first call. But no, I'm still a vassal lord, spit upon from the high sept by most of the high lords of the Seven Kingdoms, who are two or even three times weaker than I am, while the poor Daltas, Ladybrights, Bushes, and the like come to my doorstep and say they're ready to marry my "mudblood daughters" for a good dowry. Tell me, Nymeria, why on earth would I go to such lengths to do anything beyond my duty for the sake of a war that hasn't even started yet?

There was silence, where the second daughter of Oberyn thought and analyzed what she heard, preparing to give a worthy answer, and I, leaning back in my chair, relaxed and rested, after a hard day's work.

I had told Nymeria the truth, though with a few details omitted, like the long-vanished "suitors" for Elaina and Fiora, after the first applicants had had all their teeth knocked out quietly and discreetly in an alley of one of the safest cities in the world. Oh, and I tried not to deal with lords who looked at me like I was an ***no, mostly working with the more sensible and sane houses like the Swanns, Mormonts, Coxes, and Melcolms.

But I did need the status of Lord Ensign, as a shield from the lords still licking at my wealth, and as a pillar for my future descendants, who would simply not be able to look down on me.

Soon the sun had already disappeared behind the horizon, so Nymeria and I had to break off our conversation and go to a late dinner, after which it was decided to continue everything tomorrow.

Only fate likes to bring unexpected surprises, very much changing the plans of unprepared people.

***

«My lord, there's a fire! - The dark night was torn by a loud scream, making me reflexively jump out of bed and cover my wife who had also just woken up with my body.

«What happened!!!? - I bellowed, looking up to see Hollard rushing into the bedroom, carrying his post at my door today and throwing on a light night robe hanging on the nearest chair.

«Lady Fiora's chambers. - Exhaled the sweating captain, trying to calm his breathing. - They're on fire!

«Fuck the Abyss! - I shouted and rushed towards my daughter's quarters, giving orders to the guardsmen as I went. - Get everyone out of the castle! Seal off the west wing! And get some water in here! As much water as you can!

Fiora's wing was not far from my quarters, literally two minutes away. Or thirty seconds of fast running. So soon I could see with my own eyes how the small tower, with my daughter's bedroom and several rooms for her servants, was burning brightly.

«What the fuck happened? - I asked the guardsman, leading the few servants who were trying to quell the fire. The flames that had engulfed this part of the castle weren't going to die down, but they were getting hotter and hotter, turning a strange, reddish color. For a second it seemed to me that the stone embedded in the base was gradually flowing and melting out of it, but my mind was well aware that it could not be so.

The temperature difference between a simple fire and something that could melt stone was too great.

«I-I-I don't know, my lord. - The Guardsman stammered, staring at the tower in horror. - The fire was too sudden. We didn't even notice it in time.

«Who was inside? - Hope springs last, and there was a chance that Fiora had decided to take a night walk around the castle and not fall into this hell.

«My Lady Fiora and her two maids. - The soldier replied, signaling for another barrel to be tipped onto the sky-high fire. It was of little use.

"Shit, we have to do something" - A panicked thought slipped through my mind as my brain quickly thought of all sorts of options, from throwing sand on them to dousing them with water. By the way... - Bring wet leather and rags! We'll wrap the fastest and the most agile! We've got to get out of there...

«Kya-ya-yi-yi-yi!!!

A ringing and incomprehensible sound spread in a wave through the small garden where those fighting the fire were gathered. Involuntarily I, the guardsmen, and the few remaining servants who were carrying containers of water turned toward its source-the exit from the burning chambers.

There, ignoring the fire, smoke, and monstrous heat, a female figure was walking down the front walkway. One I simply could not recognize. Fiora had lost her hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, and all her clothes, but her yellow eyes, glowing like the flames beside her, left no doubt who was in front of me.

But most of the people present didn't even pay attention to the naked beautiful girl. Right now, all their gazes were fixed on her right snow-white shoulder.

There, holding on with two paws and never ceasing to make loud hissing noises, sat a small scaly creature whose species no one doubted.

A dragon.

A newborn black dragon. A living legend. The symbol of the Valyria that had died in the ages and the catastrophe of Doom. And the true source of Targaryen power.

"Yeah, fuck that *****," I cursed, feeling a new strand of gray on my head. Just now, I had an order of magnitude more problems.

***

Don't forget to donate gems.

And subscribe at:

patreon.com/FanFictionPremium