Thirtieth day, Eleventh Moon, 260 AC (+2 days)
Ryden POV
My eyes constantly roamed over the group, as did many others. Three assassination attempts on Prince Duncan had everyone on edge.
Two of the assassins had been common cutthroats, but the third had been a Sorrowful Man. The third had come close, but the Kingsguard had done their duty. Assassinations seemed to rule the day, and we knew of at least one attempt on Alequo Adarys. Many thought the attempt was just a way to throw off suspicion, so tensions were high.
Negotiations were strained and tended to have frequent breaks, but Prince Duncan was insistent and continued to persevere. The meetings tended to wander after a while as different parties tried to interject their own pet projects that inevitably failed to garner support. Some of the ideas were clearly for domestic political purposes, while some were interesting, like the proposal to build a canal in the eastern Disputed Lands between the two lakes there to try to bar the Dothraki from accessing the prime farmland, others were not, and most ended up failing for a myriad of reasons, like the canal.
The whole process was messy, and while I tried to follow along, some of the discussions that revolved around issues that concerned the Essosi escaped me – one river was the same as any other, for I had seen none of them. Thankfully, the transitory nature of land ownership in the Disputed Lands made agreeing on borders a much easier task than it would have been in Westeros. It also helped to have our army still sitting outside Tyrosh, like an executioner's axe hovering above the head of the criminal.
"As Archon Adarys has stated before," said Alequo's Seneschal, "To give up so much land, and to have one of our prime cities sold piecemeal, is intolerable so long as Tyrosh faces problems going forward with food. We have plenty of food to withstand your siege," he added quickly. "But the Archon worries for the future of his city with so little farmland under our control. Especially since you demand fishing rights along with Sella Ora."
"Let us be clear," said Prince Duncan. "You would not be selling your city in its entirety. The Braavosi have proposed a simple solution that you are not unfamiliar with. They want to lease a district of Sella Ora and want the fishing rights to go with it. You would still own Sella Ora, and control most of it."
"And you want some yourself," replied the Seneschal. "How many others want 'just a piece?' Soon, there shall be nothing left."
"Of course, the Iron Throne demands its due. We are in total control of Sella Ora currently, so by tradition, it is now the Throne's. It is only by the Throne's mercy that we are even considering giving it up. But the lease would only extend to Braavos and the Iron Throne – no one else."
"Of course, but all here are aware that you have promised not to take land in Essos. Little Tyrosh is a part of Essos and always has been. Keeping Sella Ora would mean that the Iron Throne's word is worthless. And the Archon does not concede that even this lease does not violate your word."
"We would not be taking land in Essos, merely borrowing it, as Braavos proposes, for twenty years. Besides, while we have promised not to take land in Essos, that is contingent upon negotiations being completed in good faith. Our alliance has the power, and your city can still be sacked. A district of one of your tributary towns does not seem to be worth your city."
Magister Syrio Tregar said, "I must agree with Prince Duncan. This will result in a mutually profitable arrangement."
Archon Alequo laughed. "At least have the courtesy to soften the lie by not using the word mutual. You seek to steal our sea snails."
"Of course not," protested Magister Tregar. "It is known that the sea snails grow exclusively around Tyrosh."
The Archon narrowed his eyes. "And this shall give you a convenient place for your ships to retreat after they steal the snails."
The Magister smiled pleasantly. "I reject that accusation. The world is aware of the richness of Tyroshi dyes, and they will continue to only recognize it as Tyroshi."
The Archon restrained himself from further comment, but I was at a loss at the subtext. Clearly, someone was lying. His Seneschal spoke once more, "We must demand that all who sign this treaty cannot restrict food from being sold to Tyrosh. This is not negotiable."
Prince Duncan leaned over to Lord Tyrell, newly arrived to the island, and whispered to him. Lord Tyrell nodded firmly to whatever was said. Prince Duncan replied to the Seneschal, "We can agree to such terms." The representatives from Braavos and Lys nodded their agreement.
Myr, still embroiled in a civil war, had little representation at this meeting. A few members of important families who had fled before Myr had been sacked were present, but since none here knew what their status was, none took them too seriously. The snub toward Myr was also enjoyed by Lys and Tyrosh, who both enjoyed their rival city's fall in status, even as they circled warily around each other, trying to determine the future political landscape.
I made another note on my parchment, writing down the latest agreement. The list was for my own uses - a tool to help keep track of everything, and to keep my mind from wandering when someone went off on an unrelated point. Provided Tyrosh didn't raise the point of the lease again; there was only one major issue left.
Prince Duncan nodded magnanimously. "Excellent! Now, that leaves us with one last pressing issue. All slaves must be freed."
The Archon frowned. "And if we do this, this short-sighted policy, Tyrosh will starve. Famine is already ripping the Disputed Lands apart. Stopping what agriculture remains? Madness."
Magister Tregar shifted uncomfortably. "We can perhaps reach an agreement, but you must see our position."
"You must see the reality," replied the Archon.
"No. Slavery being an evil is not new, and your reliance on it is not a defense to putting an end to the practice," said Prince Duncan.
"Ah, but we both know that whatever agreement we reach, slavery shall never be outlawed. It is an integral part of this land and always shall be. Or do you plan to spit in the faces of your allies and claim Essos as your own?"
Magister Tregar didn't so much as flinch, but Lyseni magister was clearly uncomfortable with the discussion.
"Instead of all slaves, let us say that all non-farming slaves?" proposed Magister Tregar.
"And who shall administer such a thing?" dismissed the Archon. "With these land changes, famine, and the distance to our furthest holdings, such an edict would take too long to enforce, and less scrupulous landholders will skirt such rules."
"Are you saying that your word, once given, is not sufficient for us to trust? That sounds like a problem for you and not us," said Lord Baratheon, who was seated at Duncan's right hand.
The Archon waved away the comment. "Hardly, all I am saying is that the provincials who inhabit the Disputed Lands are less civilized than those of us who live in the Free Cities, as I am sure others will agree." The Lyseni magister nodded contemptuously. "Such an agreement between us is bound to fail."
"If it is a matter of your ability to enforce laws," suggested Magister Tregar slyly, "then perhaps all slaves within the city of Tyrosh being freed is something you can accomplish."
The Archon frowned, and the Seneschal replied, "As the Archon has stated, the provincials have always been a troublesome lot. Control is not the issue, nor is the value of the Archon's word."
"Indeed," continued the Archon. "But once more, you fail to take into consideration the long-term effects of what you propose. With the famine, who shall feed these newly freed slaves? Their previous masters? I think not. You will be responsible for the mass deaths of all these people you claim you want to save."
"Then it shall be your responsibility to feed them," said Lord Baratheon, with a little heat coloring his voice. "They are your responsibility."
"No," replied the Archon. "They are the responsibility of their masters, not the city. And if you free the masters from that responsibility," he said, trailing off and shrugging. "In this, I truly have no ability to force my people to take care of these people that you so carelessly toss into danger."
"Toss into danger?!" erupted Lord Baratheon.
"What else shall I call it when you have no care for their futures? They were safe and secure -their futures assured – but now they may very well die."
"Slaves! You are talking about slaves! Their futures safe?!"
The Archon smiled thinly. "You know little of Essos, and yet you still seek to dictate how we live our lives."
Magister Tregar interrupted with a cold voice, "We Braavosi are well aware of the lives slaves lead, and we also take issue with your words. Your attempts to irritate the Westerosi are pitiful, and your lies are clear to all. All slaves in the city must be freed."
Prince Duncan nodded. "I agree. Additionally, all slaves of Westerosi heritage across all your lands must be freed as well."
The Archon scowled. "And how shall we determine that?"
"All those who can speak the Common Tongue."
"And those who can speak the old Andal tongue," chimed in Lord Baratheon.
"Outrageous!" retorted the Seneschal. "You have no claim to Pentos' vassals."
"Not to mention that we have no way to test such knowledge," said the Archon. "And we go back to the issue of forcing the provincials to do something while they are occupied by a famine."
"Slavery is an abomination," said Septon Pater, Prince Duncan's personal Septon. "It is the duty of the faithful to ensure that our brethren are not bound by such horror."
"You have no claim to the Hills of Andalos," retorted the Seneschal. "They are the dominion of Pentos and testing for their language is an absurd demand that seeks to overthrow Pentos' status. Have you declared war on Pentos?"
Lord Baratheon interjected, "Of course not. But Pentos is not here, and we have a duty to our distant kin."
"As the true inheritors of the Faith," said Septon Pater. "We must look out for our less fortunate kin and ensure that they are free from abomination and sin. Pentos is not of the Faith, and we cannot expect reformed," he said with a grimace, "slavers to care for those of us still in the old country."
Magister Tregar looked unimpressed with Westeros' apparent interest in land so close to his home. "I agree that scouring the land for a few people is an unreasonable demand, as are these claims to the Hills of Andalos – which may I mention that the Iron Throne has never expressed interest in before."
"Not claims," said Prince Duncan. "The Iron Throne does not claim the Hills of Andalos. Let me be clear. But the Andals of Westeros come from these Hills and are not disinterested in seeing distant kin being treated well."
"Enough!" thundered the Archon. His people on his side of the pavilion straightened in their seats. "I am not here to defend Pentos! Whether or not you wish to make war on them is not of my concern! I don't care for your internal politics! Your demand for language-testing is absurd, and we will not agree to it – no matter what language."
Lord Baratheon leaned forward and smiled grimly. "Oh? This is where you draw the line? Are you ready to fight over this?"
The Archon nodded stiffly. "We have come here in good faith, so that we can negotiate and end this conflict amicably. Tyrosh is not beaten, and if you press us further, you shall regret it."
Lord Baratheon and the Archon locked gazes, assessing each other. The tension in the pavilion rose, as the prospect of renewed fighting divided the room. Everyone in the room was divided to a degree, some lords wanted to sack Tyrosh, some wanted to conquer it completely, and some wanted peace. Every side of the conflict was the same, with various factions and internal politics at play. Even among the peace factions on each side, there was no consensus. What meetings had been held between like-minded groups tended to fail, for their interests were too dissimilar. Why a Tyroshi magister wanted peace was very different from why a Westerosi lord did.
After a tense moment, Lord Baratheon broke the gaze and nodded to Prince Duncan. Prince Duncan smiled and said, "Perhaps you have a point. A small delegation, led by Septon Pater, can travel across your land, guided by a party of your choosing, to find those of Westerosi heritage. Anyone who can talk with the Septon fluently in the Common Tongue can be freed."
"Not the old Andal tongue," replied the Archon.
"Not the old Andal tongue," agreed Prince Duncan. The matter seemed trite to me, because as far as I knew, old Andal was a dying language. The chances of slaves here being able to speak it was low.
"I will agree, but the date for this group must be pushed back a few moons. Tyrosh cannot afford interruption to the next few harvests."
Prince Duncan frowned, but Magister Tregar said, "That sounds wise, but the Iron Throne should then be able to supervise the slave markets. If someone is selling a slave, they must not need them anymore, and it would not interrupt your harvest."
Prince Duncan nodded, but there was no cheer in it. It was a compromise, but a distasteful one. The Archon agreed as well.
I wrote down the final agreement in my notes. I kept the notes for myself, and they were stripped of many details, but I thought they were important enough for me to record. They were the culmination of this war. It was the result of all the death and pain. It would be the legacy of all those who died – such as Donovar. I clenched my fist as I finished writing.
I would make sure that this treaty was not Donovar's only legacy. His sons still lived, and his teachings and memories still lived in my family's memory. He would not be forgotten.
The talk in the tent turned to planning for a ceremony tomorrow to sign the treaty, but I ignored it and looked over my notes.
1) Peace between Tyrosh, The Seven Kingdoms, Braavos, Lys, and Myr.
2) Withdrawal of Tyrosh from the Band of Nine. Cessation of all contact between the parties.
3) Blame for the war is to be placed on the Band of Nine, and the remaining members, who are not signed to this treaty, are to be declared criminals by all signants. Tyrosh is accorded a portion of that blame.
4) Withdrawal of all claims by all of Essos to the Stepstones. Acknowledgement by all parties that The Seven Kingdoms now owns the Stepstones in its entirety.
5) Tyrosh is to cede all control of land north of the Sea of Myrth to Myr.
6) Tyrosh is to cede control of the outlined land in the Disputed Lands to Myr, Lys, and Lyberos.
7) All parties signed recognize Lyberos as a state and its borders.
8) Tyrosh is to make payments of restitution to Lys and Myr. Payments for not sacking to Braavos and Seven Kingdoms.
9) All fighting in the Disputed Lands is to be halted for one year.
10) The lease of the district of Sella Ora by Braavos and The Seven Kingdoms for 20 years. All sovereign powers in the district is given to the respective parties, and no taxes shall be paid by a foreign power on goods coming in and out of that district. Fishing rights are accorded to the lease.
11) Braavos is to lease the Stepstone's island of Lone Island from the Iron Throne for a period of 20 years, with a renewal option for another 8.
12) Food cannot be restricted from being sold to Tyrosh.
13) Tyrosh is to free all slaves currently in the city. All Westerosi slaves across all land held by Tyrosh must be freed at a future date.
It was an interesting list – groundbreaking in many ways. I couldn't help but appreciate how it would change the political landscape – Auric was rubbing off on me.
The victory still felt a bit hollow. Compared with what I was thinking when I first left the North, it all seemed so… different. I was happy the treaty was being signed, I was disappointed it wasn't more, I was excited to return home, and I was sad that what had happened was nothing like the stories. I had known war wouldn't consist of just riding for glory, but even my 'realistic' expectations were naïve.
Truthfully, I wasn't even sure what I had really thought it would be like anymore. I felt a riot of emotions, but I knew for certain that I wanted to see my brother again.
The brilliant rays of the sunset began to bathe the world in an orange light.
Yes, it was time to see Arthur again.
Xxxx
The musicians launched into song, the sackbuts filling the field with their noise.
The tune wasn't catchy, but it was loud, and it was traditional. And that was apparently required for a special event such as this inauguration.
The field outside the council chambers had been cleared, and now a large crowd was assembled to watch the proceedings. I was with the rich and important, standing on a small raised platform, separated from the masses. All of the rich landowners were present – at least those that had not fled and planned to be a part of the new state of Lyberos.
Merchants had flooded into the capital, and if there was a famine, it wasn't evident today. Jubilation at the culmination of the end of slavery, as the treaty with the Iron Throne, and the agreement of the rich meant that the internal struggles were over – at least as far as the common man was concerned. I'm sure the cynical among them thought that there would be more fighting, but it would be political in nature, and not concern them.
Maybe I was being the cynical one? Truthfully, I had no idea what people were thinking. Maybe they were just happy and wanted to celebrate their victories, regardless of future struggles.
I stood beside Lord Grandison as the triumphant Vamyx proceeded down the aisle through the cheering crowd. He was dressed in elegant robes, that hid most of his bandages, giving him a mysterious look. I knew he was smiling, but with the sun so bright today, his face wasn't visible. Lord Grandison was in good cheer, as after Vamyx signed a treaty with him, he went on to dominate the meeting with the rich and powerful as they discussed how the government would rule.
Vamyx was forced to compromise, as we thought he would, but news of aid from the Iron Throne has strengthened his position, as did the announcement of peace talks on Tyrosh. The promise of stability smoothed many ruffled feathers, and the threat of force kept the ex-slave-owners from doing anything rash. The talks would never cease, not with how the government was formed, but Vamyx had been successful in forcing the talks into the direction he wanted, and by that virtue had won.
He was truly triumphant today.
He walked up the stairs of the tallest platform, where everyone in the crowd could see him, and two of his most trusted subordinates came to meet him. They were both dressed in elaborate robes – some sort of call back to Valyria, I was told – and stood opposite of Vamyx.
"All hear! Hear all! Today, one seeks to rise. Rise to the role of First Servant! To serve all here – those here in body and those in spirit. Today is a day of celebration, for the priests have all been tasked with taking the auspices of the day, and they say that the gods have blessed today! They have blessed this ceremony!"
The crowd cheered, even though most of them couldn't hear the speech.
Nakano listed the gods and their signs, extolling the people to hear and rejoice. Surprisingly, Septons had been consulted as well – likely a sign to the Iron Throne that any treaty is favored by the gods. Once he was done, the other man, Aegalor, spoke instead. "Never before has this land been blessed by seeing the end of slavery! The gods cheer out their favor, and so we honor the gods in return! Vamyx, First Servant to be! Step forward under the light of the heavens!"
Vamyx moved to the front of the platform, where all could see him, even as I cringed at the wording. I hoped no one thought too hard about the fact that Vamyx couldn't be truly exposed to the sun.
"Do you, Vamyx, swear to the gods you hold in your heart that you will faithfully serve as First Servant?"
"By Semosh and Selloso, I swear I will."
"Do you swear to rule fairly in accordance with the law?"
"By Semosh and Selloso, I swear I will."
"Do you swear to defend us from our enemies?"
"By Semosh and Selloso, I swear I will."
"Do you swear to show our kindness to our friends?"
"By Semosh and Selloso, I swear I will."
"Do you swear all this in good faith?"
"By Semosh and Selloso, I swear I do."
"Then let all here know and celebrate, Vamyx! The First Servant!"
My heart swelled with pride for my friend as he was sworn in. The heavy religious elements were a concession to a religious faction of the rich, but I was happy that Vamyx was navigating the political currents like he was born to it. I had faith he would one day master it.
Lord Grandison leaned over and said, "Good ceremony. Good display of power, forcing all of his lords to attend him."
I nodded. "He's getting better every day." I had not even noticed.
"You've done good work, but it's just about done now. If the peace talks on Tyrosh go through, the war will end. Will you be staying here for a while?"
I shook my head. "No, my lord. It's time for me to head home, I think."
Lord Grandison nodded. "Ah, I understand. There's nothing quite like a man's own castle."
I smiled, thinking of my family. "Yes, my lord. Nothing quite like it."