Chapter 65: Chapter 45: Velvet GloveChapter Text
"Rhaenyra's gifts are poisoned."
-King Aegon II, the Great
111 AC, Tower of the Hand,
"Walk me through it. Please." Viserra requested, opening the Cyvasse game by pushing forward a white pawn.
"You read the script, and saw it unfold." I reminded her, moving my own black pawn forward to halt her advance. Well, I called them pawns mentally, being a chess player at heart, but the actual name of the Cyvasse piece was 'rabble'.
"I was but an actor for the play. My knowledge on the matter was but scraping the surface." Viserra countered, moving another pawn up to contest the center. "You were the author. You alone know the secrets hidden within the text. The hidden barbs and traps."
"That is true." I conceded, my rabble rushing Viserra's own. Overwhelming the levies in white. For that presumption, Viserra's dragon torched them all. Dragonfire destroying an entire company underfoot. "Very well then, I shall walk you through the plan."
I wasn't particularly worried about Viserra, despite being the second-best politician and schemer among the Dragonseeds. Although she was not an ardent partisan of mine, Viserra was neither particularly ambitious nor disloyal. It made it safe to teach her.
Unlike her older sister, the Dragonseed with the sharpest political mind. Always eager to sink a blade into my back and take the Iron Throne for herself. She'd already betrayed me once, and I only found out about it years later, for she'd covered her tracks so well. And I'd only stumbled onto the damn truth by fucking accident.
I mean, I always knew that her persona of a girl with nothing but songs and stories in her head was fake, but that she was so treacherous? God, she was nearly as vicious as Mom and ten times as ambitious. That made for a horrible brew.
It was… distressing. Finding out how close she'd come to sinking me permanently. I had to take some very heavy-handed steps after that, and lay down an entire battery of truly vicious contingency plans against the Dragonseeds. They… they didn't deserve that. While there were a few bad eggs in that lot, like Aerion, by and large the overwhelming majority of them numbered among my most loyal supporters.
Of course, I had no illusions that Viserra herself would always be on my side. I assumed that she'd transfer a great deal of loyalty to whomever she eventually married, but at least she wouldn't betray me without due cause.
My armies deployed to intercept Viserra's dragon, and we skirmished a bit while I carefully considered my answer.
"How many goals do you think my plan today had?" I finally asked, after achieving a superior position on the board.
"Three." Viserra replied without hesitation, crossbowmen raining bolts onto my light horse, slaying them instantly.
"Six." I corrected, heavy horse tearing through her crossbowmen and angling a charge at her vulnerable center.
"Six?" Viserra repeated, shocked, moving her dragon to cover her flank, only for my crossbowmen to move into battle, bolts tearing through her rabble on the other side of the field.
"Six." I confirmed, deploying my catapults to cover my heavy horse, deterring the dragon. "Would you hazard a guess as to what are they?"
My lady-in-waiting was silent for a long moment, cupping her chin in contemplation at both the board game and my scheme. I took this time to look over my cousin once again. She really did look like a younger clone of myself. The Realm's Delight come again. The resemblance was beyond uncanny.
"First, pacifying the highborn." The eight-year-old finally said, trebuchets opening fire and crushing an exposed spearman phalanx. "Showing to them that they would no longer be treated as foot soldiers."
———
111 AC, Red Keep Throne Room
"And with the opening of this new citadel of war, the Blackwater Military Academy, graduates will be offered knighthood and officer commissions in the Legions. This will serve as an alternative pathway into Legion service, allowing for an accelerated Legion career." I declared, the assembled highborn all applauding at that.
Unlike the Legion recruitment camps I'd set up around the Realm—Which were not only free, but paid those whom signed up— the Blackwater Military Academy had school fees and paid nothing to its students. The fees were also set high enough that it automatically disqualified pretty much everyone whom weren't middle class at the very least. Which in Westeros meant over 70% of the lowborn.
Education was expensive, but the highborn wouldn't mind.
They were willing to fork out as much gold as was required if it meant that they would be given better treatment than the lowborn foot soldiers.
I mean, there were plenty of better-off commoners and wealthy merchants that could afford to pay the fees for the tuition, but these men were considered of 'higher class' than the sons of say, a farmer or butcher. It made serving alongside, or even under them, far more palatable and acceptable.
"If my Lords and Ladies be willing, I'd like to have you countersign this document, to formally ratify the creation and raising of the Blackwater Military Academy." I requested, Viserra stepping forwards with a scroll and quill. Across the Seven Kingdoms, from Winterfell to Sunspear my Dragonseeds produced similar scrolls, to bear the signature of near every lord and lady of the Seven Kingdoms.
I could decree whatever I wanted, but by having the Realm second my words via formal ratification made it as an inviolable law. Impossible to change, even by me.
———
111 AC, Tower of the Hand
"Indeed." I easily replied, giving ground to Viserra's army. "The nobles were pacified by the formation of the Blackwater Military Academy, as it would allow their scions to rise to officer positions automatically."
My new military academy was pretty shameless plagiarism of the Officer Cadet School, or OCS for short, from back home. OCS in Singapore was considered the gold standard. The best that a recruit could ever hope to accomplish in his two years of soldiering. It was the sole commissioning route in the Singapore Armed Forces, and held itself to a high standard. Only the best and brightest were selected. One per section of a dozen or so recruits. Give or take.
There, the boys were trained hard by the officers to learn many subjects, ranging from military subjects like military history, weapons, military inspections and military law. They were taught leadership skills, such as stress management, servant leadership and how to issue commands and expect them followed by the men. The boys would be pushed to the brink, both mentally and physically, but would emerge stronger and more determined from it. Walking out of the hallowed halls of OCS as men. Ready to face any challenge the world had to throw at them.
I knew about a half-dozen or so people that made the cut, and these guys were really exceptional even before they went into OCS. Kiefer got in because he was an amazingly talented as a soldier. Joshua, because he was a great big-brother figure and supportive leader. Bryan, although quiet and unassuming, actually did an absurd amount of background work to keep our section from failing, and the officers noticed that.
And then there were guys like Ahmad, whom somehow made the damn cut for the wrong reasons. That jackass spent half of his boot camp scheming up new ways to smuggle contraband into camp and digging up loopholes to allow him and his section to flout the rules. The worse part was that he stayed enough steps ahead of the officers that they were impressed by him, and his ability to lead his sectionmates in committing misdeeds. Enough so that they recommended Ahmad to OCS so that 'his unorthodox talents can be put to more productive uses'.
I personally was never in the running, and I had no problems with Bryan getting scouted. He deserved it, for everything that he did in the background to keep our constantly-infighting section from falling apart. But the fact that Ahmad of all people made the cut just galled me.
Like, I could sort of see the logic. The boys Ahmad wound up commanding rapidly gained a reputation for having lousy discipline records but a talent for getting their assigned tasks done in half the time. I was told that his superior officers quickly learned not to look too closely as to just how Ahmad delivered the results.
But still… Ahmad. Urgh.
Regardless, like the combined arms doctrine practised by the Legions, the military academy was another concept I'd drawn out from Earth, and had modified to suit my needs. It would be the first of it's kind in the known world. Nobody, not even the Valyrians, had school dedicated to teaching the Arts of War.
In Westeros, the Citadel offered a course on warfare, but that wasn't really definitive. It was more around analysing the decisions and campaigns on famous generals and lords through the ages. Very narrow-minded, in my opinion. They hardly mentioned any battle outside the borders of Westeros. The course hardly went through the finer details of a campaign, like supply lines, morale and the effects of guerrilla warfare, even in the later stages. In short, it was only worth listening to for armchair generals that treated battle like a game. Moving men like pieces on a board, and expecting everything to go according to plan.
The bulk of the studying for war came from fathers teaching sons, based on their own experiences in war, or from older knights educating the younger. One-on-one teaching mostly, with quality starkly varying from the laughable to the deadly. Some Masters-at-Arms were little more than upjumped drill instructors, and had no place in a command tent.
My Blackwater Military Academy would be different from them all. The classes would all be taught by subject experts in their fields. Guerrilla warfare. Siege engines. Geography. Logistics. Calvary. Any and everything that could give an edge in a war. Anyone that graduated would be an entire league above the rest of the military commanders in existence, barring the truly exceptional.
"I see." Viserra nodded, horsemen carved from ivory charging a gap in my lines and breaking through. The knights trampled straight through my catapult crews, and it was only due to their sacrifice that my trebuchets were able to fire in time, killing the heavy horse. "That was how you pacified the mutineers. I did wonder how you brought near all of them back into the fold."
I conceded the point with a nod, moving ebony pieces to reinforce my faltering line.
"Indeed. It was basically everything they mutinied for. The ability to no longer be subordinate to the lowborn." I agreed, dragon entering the fray. "I'd dealt out the stick with my floggings. Now it was time for the carrot."
"Those whom kneel get rewarded." Viserra mused, deploying her own dragon to dogfight mine. White and black, they danced across the Cyvasse board, each attempting to gain a superior position to the other. "Those that resisted get punished."
"Aegon the Conqueror's very own methodology." I smiled, my dragon sinking its teeth into the neck of Viserra's and throwing in onto the ground, before stomping heavily on its skull, pulping it like a watermelon. Like the Black Dread slaying Quicksilver.
"Then the second goal of your Blackwater Military Academy was to satisfy the Legion General Staff. To give them a hand in the selection process of their officers." Viserra continued, her trebuchet crews unleashing rocks onto my dragon and crushing it before it could rise back into the safety of the sky. "Securing yourself a steady supply of competent career officers even as you pacify both the nobles and the Legions."
———
111 AC, Small Council Chamber
"You misunderstand me, Marshal." I smoothly replied, reclining back on my chair. "This is not me undermining Legion meritocracy, but ensuring it."
"If you truly were determined to ensure a meritocracy, it'd be the most talented and skilled recruits that are commissioned." My Marshal of Westeros pointedly said.
"By all means, do that. Offer any enlisted that distinguishes themselves scholarships in the Academy. They'll repay the costs of their tuition in years of service as an officer later." I shrugged. "But nevertheless, the bulk of the students will have to be the highborn, as otherwise we won't have enough to fill the school."
"I fail to see how giving the nobles the ability to buy commissions serves our army." Marshal Darry ground out. "I understand the need to appease the mutineers, but this goes beyond that."
"You might as well say the same thing about my bureaucracy recruiting directly from the ranks of the Citadel." I retorted. "My contacts among the Archmaesters, including my uncle Vaegon, frequently recommend me students to hire as bureaucrats with fast-tracked promotions. In fact, I believe your daughter was one of them."
"Again, I thank you for taking care of Mariya, but she genuinely got her post." Darold Darry said. "The Archmaesters themselves verified her skills in the Citadel and have personally trained her such that…"
He trailed off, a dumbstruck look coming over his face as the full realisation sunk in.
"The same way the officers you appoint will vouch for the skills of the students they train." I smiled. "I trust no one save Legion veterans to train their own subordinates.
"Have your most trusted officers draw up a curriculum. Draft a few maesters if you need the additional help in teaching." I elaborated, my Marshal of Westeros cupping his chin contemplatively as I spoke. "You yourself won Generalship of the Third Legion by defeating all other candidates in wargames. You can do the same for these students. Pit them in wargames against each other and Legion veterans. One way or another, they will learn, or they will fail. It is as simple as that."
Meritocracies were the rule of my reign, where the most skilled were given the most rewards. My Military Academy would weed out the incompetent and entitled with extreme prejudice, leaving me with only the best and brightest to commission into the Legions.
I genuinely didn't care where my subordinates came from, so as long as they were talented and loyal. And like it or not, the highborn were genuinely the better candidates in that aspect.
I mean, why wouldn't they be?
Here's the thing about skills: They could be taught.
Nobody was born an expert. Even the best sports stars had to start somewhere. Talent only got someone a foot in the door. They had to commit themselves into learning the appropriate skills and knowledge as well as upon hours of relentless practice to perfect what they had learnt, allowing them to put it into practical use.
It didn't matter if you were born the best and most talented when you never got the chance to exercise that talent. To train and hone it.
The lordlings were by and large educated and trained in arms. They didn't live hand-to-mouth and didn't need to spend time learning a trade, allowing them to invest that time into learning and training. They also had to wealth to outright buy better teachers than those available to the lowborn.
Like it or not, when raising an officer corps for my armies, it'd have to be the highborn I'd turned to.
"Iron sharpens iron, so one warrior sharpens another." My Marshal quoted from the Seven-Pointed-Star. "Yes, this will be acceptable. But why the sudden change in mindset? Whenever we've raised the idea of commissioning, you've always shut us down."
"The whole point of forcing highborn to serve in the ranks was to breed into them perspective, humility and duty." I replied. "But this Academy doesn't diminish that. By all means, make any student that enrols go through boot camp first as part of their schooling.
"I see your point, but then what of the incompetent? Those that cannot or refuse to learn and adapt?"
"You'll notice that I deliberately said 'graduates will be offered knighthood and officer commissions in the Legions'. Those that fail, simply don't graduate, and can be discharged back down into the ranks." I shrugged.
———
111 AC, Tower of the Hand
"Did anyone even notice that turn of phrase?" Viserra asked, elephants trumpeting as they entered the battlefield, bearing down on my poor spearmen.
"I assume that they did." I shrugged, trebuchets retargeting and daring the elephants to advance onto my half—Well more of a third now given Viserra's advances— of the board. "But like all highborn, they assumed that their children wouldn't be incompetent enough to number among the failures."
"Pride comes before a fall." Viserra quoted, giggling amusedly, halting her onslaught temporarily in order to reinforce her frontline. The white army regrouping and resting before the final push onto the last black strongholds. "But won't they complain once more? Mutiny again because of highborn being made subordinate to lowborn officers?"
"They can't." I smiled. "The Military Academy takes the wind out of their sails. Enough of the highborn will be pacified that the rest will think twice about committing mutiny."
"Ah, I see." Viserra mused. "But you know that there always will be an entitled few that would never accept a failing grade."
"I offer opportunity. Nothing more or less." I flatly stated. "If they fail to seize it, it is nobody's fault but their own."
As Viserra bolstered her front lines, I too took the opportunity to regroup my pieces. Reorganising my army and preparing for a last stand.
"That is true. I suppose." Viserra muttered, as the last of her pieces fell into place. "And the third goal was to give you an excuse to empty out Legion Headquarters."
———
111 AC, Red Keep War Room
"I am certain." Mysaria replied defensively. "My sources are reliable. This incident was instigated by a third party. As were the two before them."
"Horrible." General Tarly grumbled. "Gods damn those Hightowers. Overmighty and grasping sons of snakes."
"We have no proof that it's them." Lord Corlys reminded the General of the First Legion. "Well, obviously it's the former Lord Hand, but we cannot just demand his head without any evidence."
"Actually, I think it's Alicent this time. She's the one actually in the Stormlands at the moment." I disagreed. "But the point still stands. The Hightowers are trying to incite a war between the Stormlands and the Reach."
Borros Baratheon had sent the entire eastern half of the Reach into a bloodthirsty frenzy. Anti-Stormlands sentiment was on the rise, both high and low, and despite my best efforts, the Reach was a pot of oil, and the Hightowers were throwing torches around.
Lord Royce Caron had been out riding when he'd been shot by bowmen in Tyrell livery. Barely a week later, Lady Alanna Ashford had been set upon before being raped and murdered by former Triarchy slave soldiers whom were resettled in Selmy lands. And when Lord Beric Selmy went to personally apologise to the Ashfords, a mob of vengeful Ashford townsfolk had swarmed his guards and tore the old man to pieces.
The knights of the First Legion escorting my father had been deployed to the border to maintain the peace, but they were Reachmen. In near every town and holdfast on the Stormlands half of the border, they had been chased out by angry mobs.
The scheme here was obvious. The Hightowers were trying to get the eastern Reach and Stormlands—Both of whom numbered among my allies— to go to war, chipping away at my coalition. Without the Reach or Stormlands, my power in the south would wane considerably. And if war truly did break out, Alicent would have the excuse to force Viserys to cancel the Royal Progress early and return to King's Landing.
The worst part was that I didn't have any real way of defusing the situation. I could probably convince the lords on both sides to stand down, but it'd be considerably harder to reverse public opinion. Sure, I could reveal it as a Hightower ploy, but I was unwilling to go to war with the Hightowers just yet.
For one, Viserys wouldn't allow it.
It was one thing for me to go to war against the contemptible foreign invaders, but another to torch his wife's family. If I did so, chances were good that I'd lose my crown.
And revealing Otto's machinations to him wouldn't work, as for all that he was blind and deaf when it came to me, he was equally blind and deaf to Alicent. She'd charm him and he'd dismiss all accusations out of hand immediately.
No, unless Otto really did something really evil, the only way I could end House Hightower was when Viserys was dead.
So like it or not, I was forced to use less… elegant methods of averting a war.
"Lord Corlys, prepare the Royal Fleet to take the Legions down the Mander Canal." I ordered. "Make preparations for horses, siege engines and all other necessary supplies. Any and everything the Legions require for the peacekeeping operation down south."
"As you wish, Lady Hand." The Sea Snake bowed.
"Mysaria, you know what to do." I said, turning to Lady Misery.
"Damage control." My Mistress of Whispers nodded. "Sway public opinion in a different direction. Attempt to defuse the situation."
I nodded.
"The First Legion will return to the Reach. Meanwhile, the Second Legion will return to the Stormlands." I finished, turning to face the two generals. "You know my official stance on the matter."
"Due to space constraints within Legion Headquarters, the First and Second Legions were displaced by the Blackwater Military Academy and will instead be garrisoned elsewhere." General Dondarrion obediently recited.
"There is no war in the south. The First and Second Legions are merely returning back home to the Dornish Marches." General Tarly grunted. "Any reports of war are the lies of warmongers and scheming snakes."
"And remember…" I began.
"The King must not know." All four of them finished.
———
111 AC, Tower of the Hand
"Is it that important that Uncle not know of the war?" Viserra asked, probing hesitantly at my defences.
"Of course. He must think that the Realm is at peace. That he can continue on his blissful holiday, thinking that there is no need for him to resume his duties as king." I replied, black elephant trampling an unlucky white rabble piece. "I'll accelerate his progress through the Stormlands and send him to the Riverlands next. That will help swing public opinion back in our direction after Daena."
As punishment for Harrenhal, I'd exiled Daena and Caraxes. Forbidding them from returning home for half a decade. Well, more accurately I told Daena that I needed her to leave the Seven Kingdoms for long enough that the whole Harrenhal affair blew over and people forgot. So I essentially gave her leave to do as she pleased in Essos, within limits and with a few caveats of course, but by and large I'd let her off the leash, giving her free rein.
Honestly I don't even think Daemon's firstborn was too mad about the issue. It was her dream to explore the world on dragonback, and I'd essentially given her that.
"So the Legions will maintain the peace at the border, and prevent any more incidents from occurring." Viserra stated, moving her trebuchet into firing position. "Meanwhile, Mysaria will work her magic and slowly calm down the mobs on either side."
"Not to mention the Legions needing to raise new military bases to be garrisoned at. I imagine the whole hustle and bustle will distract the locals and the influx of new customers will cause businesses to boom." I added, sending my last surviving light horsemen in. They cut down a catapult crew, negligently left exposed when the trebuchet took aim at my elephant.
Viserra cussed as she realised that I'd pinned her king. She moved the ivory piece, only for my horsemen to ride in the opposite direction, cutting down an elephant unopposed and pinning her king once again.
"Then what were the remaining three goals?" My cousin asked, glaring hatefully at the ebony horse on the gameboard as she moved her king once again.
"The ending of the factionalism. The skirmishing. The backbiting." I replied, horsemen charging forth and cutting down Viserra's trebuchet. The tide had turned now. I had her outnumbered and outclassed.
"Impossible." Viserra snapped immediately, elephant trampling my light horse. "Squabbles between houses are near constant. Conflict is a daily part of life."
My cousin wasn't wrong. It was a rare year where House Bracken and Blackwood didn't spill blood at the border between their lands. Dorne sent raiding parties into the Reach and Stormlands every year, and even now, we were still putting out the last embers of the Dornish resistance. In winter, Skagosi would go raiding down as far as the hinterlands of White Harbour for food. As did the men of the Three Sisters. House Celtigar squabbled frequently with the petty lords of Crackclaw Point. And every so often, a bunch of Northmen would dress up as Ironborn and strike the Westerlands coast, stealing riches and food.
For all the Realm was at peace, there was always conflict to be found in Westeros. You just had to know where to find it.
"And that's the brilliant part about my scheme." I grinned, elephant trampling her last crossbowmen company. "I'll raise the Blackwater Military Academy, and then make it fashionable for scions of high birth to be sent there. Probably by sending Aegon and Aemond in. And Bell and Baela, for the girls.
"So hundreds of lords would send their children there, and where they'll spend years together. They'll study together. Live together. Fight together and compete together. And then they'll graduate together and serve out their commissions in the Legions." I told my cousin, my last trebuchet pounding away at her lines even as my elephants and other surviving pieces picked off the isolated remnants of her army.
"And at the end of the Legion careers, when they retire and return home to take up their lordships, how many of their old army friends would they be willing to kill during a petty border dispute?" I finished, striking down Viserra's last pieces. All she had left now was her king and a single elephant. I still had both of mine, as well as a trebuchet.
"Fuck." Viserra swore. "That's… you're right. By forcing them to become friends with each other, you'd smother a great deal of the disputes and factionalism amongst the nobility."
"Indeed." I replied, letting Viserra's last elephant ram its tusks into the belly of one of mine, removing the ebony piece from the board. "It allows for the children to get to know one another, allowing for betrothals and alliances to be forged."
And wasn't that the whole point of school, if you thought about it? Making kids socialise with one another? Teaching them how to make friends and function in society.
Up till the end of my previous life, I had friends from as far back as kindergarten owing me a favour or three. Doors that were still open to me, no matter how much time had passed. And that wasn't even counting the sheer breadth of friends I made in boarding school and university. I had friends in places from New York to Tokyo, Sweden to Botswana, St Petersburg to Melbourne. Friends I could rely upon when in a pinch.
"Then what was the fifth goal?" Viserra asked, her white elephant slaying the last black one.
I grinned, my mouth all teeth and malice.
"The most beautiful scheme of them all." I laughed, moving my trebuchet a single step forward, Viserra blanching as she realised that I'd pinned both her king and elephant. "The snobs, the conservatives whom dislike the way I am empowering smallfolk, they think that the Academy will allow them to retain all their power and privileges, keep the commoners beneath them, but they didn't realise that I've poisoned them. One and all."
"What is it?" Viserra excitedly asked, absentmindedly moving her king out of the line of fire. "What is it?"
"Graduates will be offered knighthood and officer commissions in the Legions." I repeated.
"I don't get it."
"Offer any enlisted that distinguishes themselves scholarships in the Academy." I quoted. And then the pieces fell into place. I could see the instant it did, light dawning in her eyes as the realisation dawned on my cousin.
"Legion officers that serve for over a decade are able to buy land from the Crown at a highly discounted rate." Viserra breathlessly said. "And your Academy gives smallfolk a guaranteed pathway to earning a knighthood. A way to ascend."
Westeros had very little social mobility. People usually lived and died their whole lives in the same caste of people they were born into. There were the occasional success stories; Ser Davos Seaworth came to mind. Lowborn men that did some great service and were made into landed knights as a reward.
But they were the exceptions, not the norm.
"I've gotten signatures from the majority of the highborn in the Realm agreeing to formally ratify the Blackwater Military Academy." I laughed. "It is now inviolable. The deed is done. The ink is dry. There is no undoing this path of ascension."
With my Military Academy, I was lowering the bar for entry into the nobility considerably. Commoners whom couldn't afford the Academy would enlist in the Legions via the recruitment camps, and if they were talented enough, they could be given scholarships go there. Graduate, and they'd be commissioned in as a Legion Officer, with a mandatory term of service. A mandatory term of service that just so happened to last long enough that the officer in question would be eligible for many nifty benefits. Like that land grant scheme I concocted.
And once they retired, they'd be landed knights in their own rights. The lowest of the nobility to be sure, but already that was far better than being a mere commoner.
"But how did you slide this by the nobles?" Viserra asked. "There had to be at least a couple that read the full text of the document before signing, and none of them, not even your most ardent partisans, would sign a document that would allow so many of the smallfolk to become landed knights."
"I didn't need to." I laughed. "I'd stacked the deck long before the game even began. Poisoned the chalice before anyone even realised they had to drink."
"Tell me how, Rhaenyra." Viserra breathlessly asked, pleaded, desperate to know. "Tell me how you did it."
"The Advance Payment Scheme." I replied, Viserra sucking in a deep breath as the pieces fell in.
The Advance Payment Scheme, colloquially called Rhaenyra's Loan by the Legionaries, was one of the many financial assistance schemes in the Legions. I'd made provisions for quite a few of these schemes in the founding charter of the Legions. There were some that allowed a Legionary to gain benefits such as education for their children or subsidised healthcare for their elder relatives in exchanged for portions of their pay and years of service.
There were also benefit schemes where instead of coin, the Legionary could be partially paid in redeemable coupons for Mysaria's brothels, or for additional grog rations. There were actually pretty popular among the highborn enlisted, whom were rich enough that they didn't need the coin.
Others allowed Legionaries to take loans from the Crown with correspondingly lower interest rates per additional year of service. In that sense, the Advance Payment Scheme was the best of these loans.
The Advance Payment Scheme essentially allowed a Legionary to gain the next ten years of their pay immediately as a lump sum, in exchange for a decade of service at a severely reduced salary. It was only offered to the best, brightest and most loyal among the enlisted, with such exclusivity that in a section of twenty legionnaires, only one would get offered the Advance Payment Scheme.
On paper, it was a method of rewarding the best recruits, to give the recruits an additional incentive to work harder and perform better in Boot Camp. The Advance Payment Scheme would allow recruits to send the coin back to their families, to bail them out of debts or as a startup investment for their various businesses. But by some odd coincidence, the money offered by the Advance Payment Scheme just so happened to equal the school fees for the Blackwater Military Academy.
The highborn never noticed. I mean, why would they? Only the lowborn bothered to look up the financial assistance schemes in any great detail.
"Gods be good." My cousin faintly said. "This entire time?"
I grinned behind my folding fan.
"I've been planning the raising of my Military Academy since before I ordered the First Legion raised." I smirked, trebuchet removing Viserra's last elephant from the board.
"Once the smallfolk realise, they'll enlist into the Legions en masse." Viserra hoarsely said. "Both sons and daughters."
"The competition will be furious. Meaning that the lowborn that rise will be the cream of the crop." I agreed. "And while on paper the ratio of lowborn to highborn in the Blackwater Military Academy will be between one-in-five or one-in-six…"
"A higher percentage of that one-in-five will graduate." Viserra finished admiringly. "Where the highborn have quantity, the lowborn have quality."
I nodded.
"How many highborn in the Military Academy actually will be competent? And how many of the highborn would be expecting a cushy officer position?" I pointedly asked. "It doesn't matter. They're competing against the best and brightest of the lowborn. The difference in motivation, ability, and character will tell. Blackwater will separate the wheat from the chaff, and the cadets will either break, or they will learn.
"One way or another, I will have my officers." I finished, reclining back in my chair. Viserra whistled appreciatively at that.
"Well, you seem to have thought this out quite well." The Dragonseed remarked. "Then what was the sixth? The last one?"
"So, we'll have smallfolk signing up in recruitment camps throughout the Seven Kingdoms. But what of those that fail? Those that do not make the cut?" I asked. "Both to get the Advance Payment Scheme and the Military Academy itself?"
"They'll be stuck inside the Legions." Viserra grasped. "For two years at minimum."
When one enlisted into the Legions at a recruitment camp, they were mandated to serve a minimum of two years in the Legions. Meaning that those that failed to enter Blackwater would be trapped into the service, bolstering Legion ranks. I was dangling knighthood as a bait, and using it to lure in more recruits.
"Exactly." I nodded. "They'll provide me the manpower I need to raise additional Legions. And it gets better. Once these legionnaires finish their terms of service, after having spent so long serving under their officers, whom would soon became landed knights in their own right…"
"How many of them will follow their officers to their new homes? Many will sign on as guardsmen and household knights. And how many of them will bring their kith and kin with them?" Viserra faintly asked. "The new landed knights will need workmen to raise their holdfasts. Tradesmen to fill their villages. Farmers to work the land."
"It is no coincidence that the lands the Crown is selling to the officers at cost comes from the North and Beyond-the-Wall." I answered.
Viserra reached over to the gameboard, and tipped her king over.
"Well played, Dragonqueen. Well played."