Stannis VIII
King's Landing didn't smell noticeably better than it had when Stannis first arrived with Renly. There had been some changes though - masons continued to work on the tourney grounds and the Dragonpit. Stannis would have hoped that some could be spared for Renly's seat at Summerhall or his own keep. On the other hand, the Roseroad had been repaired and improved all the way to Bitterbridge as Robert had promised - so if he could get a promise of help with the castles then he could probably count on it.
"Renly's too young to go to war," he warned Jon Arryn when the Hand met them at the gates to the Red Keep.
"I can do it! You need a squire!" the boy insisted.
Jon glanced at Stannis. "Actually, Prince Renly, I'm the one in need of a squire. With your brothers off at war, it'll fall to me to protect your goodsister Alysanne and Robert's children."
That was delicately put, Stannis thought.
Renly made a face. "Stay with the children, you mean. Can't Viserys do that?"
"Viserys isn't family," Stannis told him. "One of us needs to stay in King's Landing to represent House Baratheon."
"And you'll be doing important work for me, governing the Kingdoms." Jon patted Renly on the shoulder. "We'll need to get you a tunic to show you're acting for the Hand... and some new shirts, you've grown at least two inches since those were made for you and it shows."
Stannis' eyes narrowed. Renly was easily bribed with new clothes - but if Jon was manipulating him then what strings was he pulling on Robert? He'd have thought his elder brother was easily diverted by wine and women, but seeing him on the throne had shown otherwise.
"I need to speak to Ser Davos," he said outloud.
Jon nodded. "I believe he'll be at the docks by this hour. He has been hard at work readying the fleet."
Stannis acknowledged this with a nod. "Renly."
The boy looked at him and Stannis nodded. "Be good."
Renly rolled his eyes. "Yes, Stannis."
Mounting his horse again, Stannis rode down Aegon's Hill and across Fishmonger's Square to the River Gate. The King's Men manning the gatehouse still wore undyed cloaks but over the winter Robert had found the money to equip them with leather coats, reinforced with metal plates riveted over the vitals.
Davos Seaworth was overseeing the loading of spars and sails onto a round-bilged coastal trading ship. Compared to the low, lean hull of a war-galley the short hull ratio made the ship look clumsy but it was handy enough on open water and the supplies aboard would be vital for maintaining the fleet on its voyage around Westeros. No galley of similar size could carry the same tonnage of material.
"Prince Stannis!" the Onion Knight called as he saw Stannis approach. He whipped off his hat and bowed, drawing attention from around the docks. The sailors didn't halt their labours though, Stannis noted approvingly. This wasn't the court and it was more important that they did their job than pander to his pride.
"Davos." He dismounted. "How is the fleet?"
"All but three ships have been assembled, my lord. Those would be the galleys which were escorting the King's bounty to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. I left orders at Widow's Watch for them to join forces with the Arryn and Manderly ships at Gulltown."
"Good. And the rest?"
"There are forty-eight war galleys here at King's Landing and sixty-three ships without oars. Twenty-two more galleys and twelve transports are fitting out at Duskendale and will be ready to sail within seven days. We may need as many as twelve for the ships here. To clear the docks I've sent twenty ships ahead to Greenstone under Ser Aemon, along with seven of the new galleys."
Stannis nodded. "Not Robert's folly?"
Davos nodded ruefully. "The King's paddle galley isn't fit for service, my lord. With the king's agreement I'm having the wheels removed from the sides and she can still serve well enough as a normal galley. It's unlikely she'll be ready for this voyage though. Pending your approval I've appointed Aurane Waters as her captain and assigned him to secure Blackwater Bay while the rest of the fleet is in the west."
"I suppose not all my brother's clver ideas will work out."
"The new sail-plans have worked well," admitted Davos. "And if we can find enough copper I think that he's onto something when it comes to sheathing the hulls. A clean hull could make all the difference is speed and reduce the time we spend careening."
"We don't have time for that now." Stannis saw a crate not being moved and used it as an impromptu table for a chart. "Greenstone is fine as an initial port for the fleets to assemble at, we don't want ships hazarding Shipbreaker Bay. I want to stop the fleet at Planky Town to remind the Dornish of their place"
"It wouldn't be a bad rallying point, my lord." Davos traced a line on the chart. "And then to the Whispering Sound?"
"Why not the Arbor?"
"The Redwynes have a fine port," the sailor admitted. "But they'll be using it for fitting out their own ships. Oldtown is the largest city in the south and we can make good any repairs that may be needed there. It may be wise to send the ships in smaller squadrons, to get them used to the discipline."
Stannis nodded. "We'll assemble the full fleet at Greenstone and then organise them into squadrons once the Manderly and Arryn fleets join up. I take your point - if we keep the ships together then one storm could smash them all at once."
Varys III
Varys admired the broadsheet before him. His little flowers were hard at work digging up stories that would tittilate, not to mention the occasional matter of more magnitude, some of which he even allowed to be printed.
When he looked up from the table there were two men in his most private chamber. He hadn't invited them and they both had their hands on swords. Really it was just like old times.
"Lord Connington, Ser Arthur. Welcome to Pentos, my friends."
"We aren't friends," Dayne growled. The Sword of Morning still wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard. Really, it was as if the man wasn't even trying. Varys had had three reports of his arrival the previous day. It was entirely probable that Robert Baratheon knew by now, he had at last two spies in Pentos that Varys was aware of.
Hmmm. Would it be unreasonable to put a small article in the next broadsheet? After all, King Robert had a subscription...
"After all the years we've know each other?" he asked Arthur mildly. "You wound me."
Jon Connington held a hand up before Arthur Dayne could respond further. "Please excuse Ser Arthur's temper. We have had a long voyage from Volantis." The one-time Lord of Griffin's Roost and Hand of the King at least dressed the part of a common sell-sword and with hair dyed blue.
"I don't like to travel myself," admitted Varys. "Please, sit down. I hope your families are well?"
"Young Griff is in the care of good friends. And Ser Arthur has two nephews since you last met."
"Ah yes, Edric Dayne and Duncan Selmy. Would you like them announced? Certain of the more distinguished families in Pentos and Braavos feel there's a certain cachet in having births, deaths and marriages made public through my good offices." People just... gave him this information. Without even seeking recompense. Remarkable.
"Don't put yourself out." Dayne leant over the desk. "Tell us about Greyjoy."
"Hmm? Lord Quellon has been dead some five years now, as with his son Urrigon. The new lord of the Iron Islands is Balon, who has three living brothers, three sons and a daughter. I don't make announcements about Westerosi families often as there's little interest here..."
"Don't -!" The knight thumped the table vigorously.
"You could certainly kill me, Ser Arthur," Varys cut him off, "But you might find it harder to escape the building and harder still to depart Pentos. And if you are identified as my killer, well there's a substantial sum held by the Iron Bank of Braavos to arrange certain consequences for my death."
Connington rolled his eyes. "We're not here to harm you, Lord Varys. But since the news has reached us, far to the east, you must be aware that Balon Greyjoy is in rebellion against the Iron Throne."
"There is no longer an Iron Throne, something we must all adjust to." Varys relaxed back into his chair. "But yes, my little flowers - such as remain in Westeros - have advised me that Balon now styles himself King of the Iron Islands. You will have heard that Lannisport was burned, I imagine?"
"And what do you make of his chances?"
Varys pursed his lips. "I am neither a knight nor a general, my lord. However, the ability of a few islands to resist an entire continent seems... questionable."
"The Iron Fleet is formidable. And if the Usurper dies in battle..."
"Then a regency would exist for his son. If he dies, as children sometimes do, Stannis Baratheon has been groomed as a potential successor. And then there is a third brother who will be kept safely away from the war." Varys shook his head. "You may wish to consider how the Iron Fleet was built."
Both men frowned in confusion and Varys refrained from sighing. Really, was thought so difficult? "The Iron Islands aren't known for their trees, gentlemen. Without access to the woods of the mainland it will be very hard for Lord Greyjoy to replace his losses. Meanwhile Robert Baratheon has shipyards in the east that can replace anything lost, given time. Whether he wins or loses the first battle at sea, it is very unlikely he will lose the last battle at sea."
"Then there is no hope?"
"A decisive Baratheon victory would solidify the new dynasty's position. A drawn out conflict could perhaps weaken them in the long run." Varys slipped his hands into his sleeves. "Show patience my friends. The Seven Kingdoms would hardly welcome a child upon whatever throne you wish to replace that of Aegon the Conqueror. Until a Targaryen is of age to rule the game is one of waiting."
"Says the Spider in his web."
Varys eyes met Ser Arthur's. "Says the knight who walked into that web," he reminded the Dornishman mildly. "I would remind you that you were fully pardoned of wrongdoing. Out of the three of us, you are the only one who can return to Westeros and move freely. That being the case I have to wonder why you are in Essos at all."
It was the Sword of Morning who looked away first.
"He was keeping me informed of events there," Connington advised. "My first direct information since the winter."
"And I wanted to meet the boy."
"Of course." Varys bowed his head. "We are all pleased that he thrives."
"One day the Usurper will regret that."
"I would not venture to speculate as to his thinking, but you may very well be right." He gave them a cool stare. "Is there anything else I can help you with? Most particularly anything so pressing I can't go on with my daily affairs? One likes to pay attention to one's employees..."