Chapter 30: Part XXXNotes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for a while.
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"If you must break the law, do it to seize power: in all other cases observe it."
Joffrey Augustus – 345AL (borrowed from Julius Caesar)
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The Dragonpit - King's Landing – 298 AL
Octavian looked over the ranks of men dispassionately. Despite the matching uniforms, armour and equipment the men of the City Watch were a pale imitation at best of real soldiers. He had no doubt a single century of Legionaries could have readily defeated the two-hundred men currently paraded before him without even sustaining heavy losses, the City Watch would break before the well-trained Roman professionals were warmed up. To be fair these men were the most senior in the Watch, both in terms of rank and of age, the youngest present being past forty, but it was obvious just looking at them that many had not even attempted to stay in shape judging by how their chainmail bulged.
They had been told they were here for a parade, the boy-king playing general. They were shortly to be disavowed of that notion because it was much worse than that.
Once part-stable, part-arena where House Targaryen once kept their dragons the pit was long since a collapsed ruin. It was however still adequate for Octavian's purposes, playing the role of an impromptu parade-ground far enough away from the more densely occupied parts of King's Landing that he wouldn't have to deal with an audience of gawkers.
Much to his protestation Octavian's bodyguard, Sandor Clegane, was now wearing the cloak of the City Watch, although he still wore his own armour. Given that the armour was of higher quality than the standard issue, and it would have been difficult to find a haubergeon of City Watch plated-mail sized to fit him anyway, the new king had not pressed the issue of uniformity but the Gold Cloak was non-negotiable.
When Clegane asked why Ser Barristan Selmy, also present as bodyguard, didn't have to wear the 'Yellow Blanket' too Octavian explained that as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Selmy was higher in political authority than the Lord Commander of the City Watch, even if the latter as king outranked the knight socially. Judging by his expression this made little sense to Clegane but for Octavian it was a perfectly normal and rational situation to find oneself in. A man of upper-class patrician background in Rome could find himself outranked by a lower-class plebian if the latter was, for example, elected magistrate.
"To prevent any confusion" Octavian began to speak in an authoritative tone, projecting his voice loudly enough for everyone to hear so that it echoed off the stone walls of the ruined structure, "When I am in uniform like this you will address me as either 'Lord Commander' or 'Sir', not "Your Grace' or any other honorific" he told them. "If I'm wearing Gold Cloak I'm there as a member of the City Watch [I]not[/I] the king" he told them. "Believe me, I get more than enough people kissing my arse every day, I don't need you lot stroking my…" he paused for effect, "…ego too" he told them, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in an exaggerated fashion.
The chuckles from a few of the men, and the grins from rather more indicated he had managed the right tone, even though it was more the coarseness of Marc Anthony in style than the patrician nobility of Julius Caesar. Lacking the likes of a decent corps of the experienced, dependable junior officers that the Roman Army maintained at Centurion rank to act as intermediaries Octavian had decided to lower himself to the men's level in order to obtain the desired results.
"I'm not going to bullshit you or spare your feelings" Octavian told them flatly. "The City Watch is considered a fucking joke" he continued, wiping those grins off their faces instantly. "Talk to a soldier from any kingdom in Westeros and they'll call us a pretend army whose main job is supposed to be catching thieves, rapists and murderers but who couldn't catch the fucking pox unless they were trying not to" he asserted, volume and tone escalating for effect.
The poise and stern authority he was trying to project was indeed that of a specific Centurion, one Lucius Vorenus of the Thirteenth Legion, but the choice of foul language was pure Legionary Titus Pulo and Octavian hoped they combined better as examples to emulate than they did as personality types.
Octavian put his hands behind his back in a parade-rest stance. "What's worse than that is that the fucking thieves, rapists and murderers think so too, so we're not even much of a deterrent to those thinking about committing a crime" he stated with conviction. "A cutpurse with a wooden leg thinks he could outrun half the City Watch which is why they're so fucking blatant about plying their trade on our streets."
"And if they caught him he'd probably beat them to death with his wooden leg" Sandor Clegane stood watch over the king nearby muttered to himself just loud enough for Octavian to hear.
"You men need to set an example to the rest" Octavian continued, ignoring Clegane though making a mental note to 'borrow' that line when he made this speech to the next batch of men. "I don't expect you to be as fast on your feet as you were twenty years ago but I do expect you to still be able to reasonable distance without throwing up or having a heart attack" he told them. "So, let's find out shall we?" he asked rhetorically before turning to Selmy. "Are you ready with the hourglass Ser Barristan?"
"I am, Your Grace" Barristan confirmed, holding one up.
"We are all going on a run, I'll be leading" Octavian announced, "I won't be running my best time but I'll keep a fast steady pace and any man that can match me all the way to the finish will still receive a week's salary as a bonus" he announced, a few of the more athletic-looking men looking pleased at the news. "Any man that doesn't finish before all the sand runs out will be immediately dismissed from the City Watch."
Octavian paused as the rather less athletic-looking men suitably looked horrified and he let them think the worse for a while before grinning. "No, don't worry, I'm not that much of a dick" he told them. "Fail and I'll give you a month to get back into shape and you can try again" he explained. "If you still can't manage it then you're dismissed because you're either a lost cause or you're not fucking trying."
Ser Barristan coughed to draw Octavian's attention.
"Ah yes, thanks for the reminder, Lord Commander" Octavian responded after glancing his way. "Ser Barristan there managed to run the same distance yesterday within the time allowed so don't go thinking I'm being grossly unfair on you old farts" he told them.
In reality Selmy had only just managed it, but neither he nor Octavian were about to mention that part. For his age Ser Barristan was in excellent physical condition but he'd still seen too many winters to be out chasing street-thieves.
"He's got near twenty years on some of you and if you can't outrun a man old enough to have fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings you should be fucking ashamed of yourselves" Clegane loudly interjected, thinking they were only lucky they didn't have to fight him instant because Selmy would carve through the lot of them, three or more at a time.
Age was no excuse for not staying in shape if your very job required you to stay in shape, Octavian considered. Gaius Marius still made sure to exercise regularly well into his sixties, gawkers used to go watch the old general train for battle the Field of Mars alongside grown men who could have been his grandchildren. Some mocked him, but few honestly thought they would be near as fit at his age and most wouldn't have wanted to take him on in a fight even then. He had decades of experience at killing men during numerous campaigns none of whom had ever managed to return the favour.
"Men over the age of thirty, but under forty, will be expected to run the distance faster than you to meet the minimum standard of fitness I expect" Octavian announced, "and woe betide any man under thirty who can't do it even quicker than that because I'll have them running with me every bloody morning until they can."
Knowing this would be happening Ser Barristan had already decided to assign Ser Arys Oakheart to the king's side from now on. Oakheart was the youngest and fittest of the Kingsguard and was the only one of them who stood a chance at keeping up with the lad's youth and enthusiasm. Selmy himself suspected he'd be dead in a week if he tried.
Octavian turned to Sandor Clegane. "I don't think I'll need a bodyguard with a couple of hundred of the City Watch in tow but you can join us if you wish" he suggested, tone indicating this was not optional. Clegane had to set an example too.
"What's the point of owning a bloody horse, that's what I want to know" Clegane complained bitterly to himself as he sensibly started limbering up. Fortunately after months of chasing around after the little sod as he tore up and down the steps of the Red Keep he was sure he could easily out-run most any of these useless twats.
"We'll all be back presently, Ser Barristan, heart attacks or other physical ailments notwithstanding" Octavian now addressed Selmy. "Only half-a-league as you know, nothing excessive."
"I'll be here waiting with the hourglass, Your Grace" Selmy replied. Running a mile-and-a-half in armour was no joke, as he well knew, but it was nothing compared to fighting in a pitched battle and the City Watch were supposed to be able to act as soldiers not just guards standing idly at gates.
"Let's get started on our first heart-attack shall we" Octavian said loudly moving to the front of the ranks, "Follow me, men" he ordered, setting off at an initially slow pace before breaking into a gentle run with the mass of men following behind him with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
In reality this had far less to do with physical fitness than it did with the other issues he had with the City Watch of King's Landing, those being corruption and institutional inertia. Octavian was banking that there was a considerable overlap between the older, lazier most overweight and indolent members of the City Watch and the men least inclined to do their jobs and most open to bribery. Hopefully with a little luck and a lot of sweat he could purge the worst of them without resorting to lengthy and time-absorbing investigations to weed them out.
There would always be a certain level of corruption in any such organisation, expecting anything else was foolish, but if it reached the point at which that corruption badly effected the ability of the organisation to perform its basic function it needed reform.
Moreover, Octavian had plans, and the people that tended to resist change tended to be those who were older and more set in their ways.
Gaius Marius himself would have found many of these plans quite familiar. He was, after all, the man that reformed the Roman Army into the professional force that he and others used to force the will of the Republic on other nations.
Octavian was no military genius and he knew it, but he could copy them well enough as regards re-organisation and reform. It was his job to forge the sword not swing the thing, there were other men more highly skilled and better suited for that.
As he ran he considered that the man shortly to be appointed as Master of Ships, this being Mace Tyrell, was also no military genius but he likely overestimated his abilities and underestimated his flaws to the point his eventual failure was assured. Tyrell's only real chance of success would be if he was lazy enough to let his subordinate Aurane Waters, formerly one of Stannis Baratheon's most skilled naval commanders, do all the work for him so the question was really whether his pomposity and self-delusion would outweigh his idleness.
Give me a hardened professional soldier over a wealthy well-connected political appointee any day, Octavian thought to himself, remembering how Crassus had thrown away his army at Carrhae. Still, in times of peace he could understand why Tywin Lannister and Eddard Stark might have considered Tyrell a good choice. It certainly fed the man's ego enough to ensure that the grain supply to King's Landing would be secure in the harsh winter predicted to come.
I still need to see an armourer about new swords and shields, Octavian realised, ignoring the wheezing and gasping complaints from the men strung out behind him in an ever more ragged formation. Perhaps that might represent another opportunity to kill two birds with one stone?
Notes:
Note from the Author:
The City Watch of King's Landing might not be the Roman Legions but they're a start and Octavian has both Gaius Marius and Julius Caesar to emulate regarding reforms. You can run in armour better than many people think, and if you wear in a lot of the time you' become used to the extra weight, but this is still an opportunity for Joffrey to rid his new command of some dead weight.
The sprint training to come will get rid of a few more.
Mace Tyrell was appointed Master of Ships in canon, although not for any talent he demonstrated in naval command. Aurane Waters was a bastard son of House Velaryon and was a skilled ship's captain and commander. Tywin will quietly let him know that part of his job is to stop Tyrell from mislaying the Royal Fleet somewhere.