It was slightly over a week when the king's men arrived. They arrived sometime after noon when the day was hottest. Two of the men led the column on horseback whilst a cart was driven behind them down the main road that led into the village. It didn't take long for news of their arrival to spread through the village.
When he had learned of their presence, Forrest had packed little of the belongings that he could call as his own.
"Do you truly 'ave to go?" His mother asked as she saw him to the village square. He could hear the worry in her voice.
Forrest held back a sigh in the back of his throat. This was a conversation that they had had many times before. "I've already pledged myself to the king." He cast a weak smile in the direction of his mother. "And its honest work. Its good pay and board as well."
"Fighting some man's wars." His mother whispered quietly, looking around nervously. "You could stay here, help your pa and brothers with the farming."
But he didn't want to farm. Is that what his life was supposed to be? Spend all his time planting crops and waiting for the next harvest? To live and die in a small village without seeing the world? He didn't want that.
He wanted what service in the king offered. Seeing the world. Fighting against the enemies of the Riverlands. Enemies who would rape and ravage her, like those fucking ironborn.
"I want to do this mother." Forrest insisted as they neared the village centre. He noticed that he wasn't the only there. Loads of them, many young boys not that older than him were falling into a loose column of men and boys. "It's something that I have to do. I'll be fine, honest."
"But..." His mother was close to tears.
He hated to see her cry, but his heart was resolute. He was going to do this. Even if his mother cried all the tears in the world. "I promise I'll visit. The ser said we get this something called 'leave' every now and then to come back home."
She sighed, relenting in her trying convince him to not go. "Fine then, just take care of yourself okay? Just come back to me." They hugged then, maybe for a bit too long in front of nearly the entire village, but Forrest didn't care. She deserved this as something of a parting gift until they met again.
They parted and he began to make his way to join the column of men, glancing at his mother one more time. "Hey, you!" Forrest stopped to look at the back of the cart where a man sat, pointing at him. Forrest thumbed at himself and a look of annoyance came across his face. "Yes you! Who else am I pointing to? Come here."
Timidly, he made his way towards the man. "W-What can I help you with, my lord?"
"I'm no lord." The man said with a snort. "But you can address me as ser. What I want from you is a name." The man said as he pulled out a ledger and quill. He dipped his quill into some ink before glancing at him with dark eyes. "So, what's your name?"
"Forrest, ser." He answered nervously.
The man nodded as he took a quick look over the writings on the paper before he frowned for a moment. "You're the third Forrest from this damned village." Forrest heard the man mutter to himself.
Forrest. "Aye ser. There's me, Big Forrest and Little Forrest, everyone calls him Forry though."
The ser looked up from the ledge with a dead-eye look. "I didn't ask for that nonsense boy."
Forrest gulped. "Apologies, ser."
The ser wrote something into the ledger before putting it aside back on the cart. "Take this into note if you ever want to see your village again," If he ever wanted to see his village again? That made his heart skip a beat. What exactly did the ser mean by that? "You're Forrest of Wexley. Wexley." He repeated, deliberately. "Wexley, understood?"
Forrest nodded. "Understood, ser."
The man nodded before waving him off. "Good, go join the rest of the column then. Off with you boy."
He didn't need to be told twice as he scurried away as fast as possible, all the while, he couldn't help but wonder what 'Wexley' meant. The name didn't even mean anything to him. Just what was going on?
He was brought out of his thoughts when he saw someone waving at him from the column and he smiled to himself as he saw a friend of his among the young men that had answered their new king's call.
"Arry!" He breathed out as he moved next to his fellow villager and joined him in the column.
Arry grinned at him as he wrapped a massive arm round his neck and brought him in close. "By the Seven am I happy to see you! I'd thought I was going to be left with Forry and Big Forrest for company."
Forrest had to crane up his neck to get a good look at Arry's face. Once upon a time, Arry had been the thinnest and shortest of some of the boys of the village, somehow, over the years, he had grown to be nearly a whole head taller than him and long hours working the fields had made sure that his body had grown with muscle.
Even as his arm gently rested itself upon his neck and shoulders, Forrest could feel the strength behind them. "Is it just the five of us then?" He asked. "I mean, the ones pledging ourselves to the king."
Arry shook his head. "Saw a couple oth'r lads from the village in the column. Didn't see you though, thought you had turned craven."
Forrest scoffed. "Craven? Me? Never."
A wide grin that showed all of Arry's teeth came to the front. "Excellent, when I make a name for myself, I'll need you round to be my personal servant."
He playfully elbowed the larger boy in the side. "You mean become my servant instead." He had been nervous about this before, but being in the company of a good friend had slowly started erasing any doubts and nervousness that he had been feeling.
Then the column started moving again not long after he had taken his place among the column, he heard a shrill sound before the cracking of a whip coming from the front of the column. Then slowly but surely, they started moving along the road towards their goal.
The village people waved and called out to their loved ones that, whether they saw them or not, they continued to shout out. He even noticed some of the others in the column that he didn't recognise and was sure weren't from their village grinning and waving back.
It didn't even take long for him to note that they weren't in the village anymore and were now on the road outside and it hit him that he was leaving. He was leaving the life that he had known for his life.
"This your first time outside the village?" Arry asked quietly, but loud enough to be heard over the din of the chatter that was happening to the front and behind them.
"I've been outside the village before Arry, y'know that."
"Not like that," Arry said, shaking his head. "But out, out. Like as we are now. Going far away."
Forrest didn't answer and that was all Arry needed.
They caravan travelled for three days. Forrest passed fields full to bursting that had not yet to be harvested or the same kind of fields that were being harvested. They passed blue streams and rivers, great plains that seemed to disappear forever into the distance, rolling hills that went up and down as they passed, if Forrest looked too long at them, he would sometimes feel bile rising up to the back of his throat and his head swim, then he would look away.
What a strange thing, these hills did to him.
On their journey, they were joined by other caravans, none of them larger than the one he had joined, but at the end of it all, when they joined, the caravan became a long winding snake made of hundreds, perhaps even thousands of souls. In all his life, Forrest had never seen so many people before.
It was a sight to behold, especially at night when they took to camp and resting for the next leg of their journey.
"How long are we going to walk?" Lesley of Goole complained as rubbed at his feet to ease the ulcers that had come. "We've been on the road for days now."
Lesley was a thin reed of a boy. He was a boy although he would declare to anybody and anyone that he was a man. His claim to manhood being that he had fucked some farmer's daughter back in his village.
He talked about that a fair few times that Forrest knew the story from the back of his hand.
Tim, from Goole as well shook his head as he poked at the fire they sat around. "I hear it's not long now."
Lesley didn't believe him as he thrust a thin hand in his direction. "And how would you know?"
Tim shrugged as he continued to poke the fire. "One hears things, if one listens hard enough."
Now that he thought about it, Tim always seemed to disappear every now and then when they set up camp. Perhaps he went and talked with the others?
Arry let out a burp as he leaned back onto an arm. "I hear the same things as well. Heard one of the sers talking that it was another day's or so journey. Depends on how fast we move."
The ser that Arry had overheard hadn't been wrong. It hadn't been the next day they arrived at their destination, but the day afterwards. Forrest noticed it when they were going downhill in the distance. It was next to the largest river he had ever seen and was situated in the plains. Around the camp, moat had been dug out and if that had not been enough to keep out whoever they wanted to keep out, a wooden palisade had also been erected.
They walked down a path that had been trodden upon by thousands of feet already that it had surely become a permanent fixture upon the land. How many feet had walked upon this ground? How many were not his or from the caravan that he had come with?
As they walked down the path towards the camp, something reached his ears, growing louder with each passing moment.
Mama and Papa were lying in bed,
Mama rolled over and this is what she said,
Now gimme some,
Now gimme some,
Forrest craned his neck slightly to follow the group of men-no soldiers as they ran past, each repeating verses of that strange song. He had never heard that song before, but he was no bard and he wouldn't claim to know every song that existed in the lands.
Then the noise was the next one to hit him. It was thunderous, like a thousand voices clamouring for attention to a single man. It was the sounds of shouts, orders and responses. The shouts of beating hooves and feet on the ground as men marched. The sounds of hammers striking metal. It was just never ending. He wondered how anyone could sleep with this much noise happening all at once?
He couldn't help but wonder what he had got himself into. Perhaps his mother had been right, perhaps he should have been happy with the idle village life that had been destined for him?
Eventually, they were brought to a square and were left to be idle by themselves before they were separated into blocks of a hundred men and were led away by a knight or lordling. Thankfully, the Seven had been smiling upon him and he found himself in the same group of a hundred boys and men with Arry, Tim and Lesley, people he could call friends.
"Nervous?" Arry whispered as they marched in formation. He could feel the weight of some of the older men staring at them as they passed, heading towards what had been called their 'barracks'.
Forrest tried to shake off the weight of the stares. "I'd be a fool if I wasn't." It was more along the lines that he was questioning everything about his life and the decisions he had made to arrive at this very moment in time.
Tim stifled a yawn from the other side of him. "I suppose that means you're a smart one then. That's good."
They arrived soon enough at their 'barracks' which to his surprise was an empty plot of land. The lordling that had led them here made his way towards a small desk and stood upon it, to elevate himself above the rest.
Forrest was surprised to see that the lordling didn't seem to be all that much older than them. He would wager the lordling had them by a couple of years. Was he even in his twenties?
He was handed a cone like thing by one of the more grizzled man that stood beside him and cleared his throat before bringing the device to his lips and spoke. "Hello there!" He shouted out and to his suurprise, Forrest found the lordling's voice being carried well enough all the way to the back of their formation where he stood. "I am Francis Charlton of House Chester, and the good ser beside me is Ser Wex Rivers. You have all answered the call by our Good King Edymn, the Liberator of the Riverlands from the cruel rule of the Harren the Black and the Hoares, but just because King Edymn sent those ironborn scurrying back to the sea does not mean our independence is guaranteed. To the west, we have the Lannisters salivating at the thought of raping and pillaging our land for its fertile fields, and same could be said for the blasted savages for the frigid north. To the east, we have the Arryns, they would speak of honour, but that won't stop them from coming down their mountains to rape our lands, sisters, mothers and wives.
"Then to the south, we will have to contend with the depredations of the Reach and the Stormlands. We have just freed ourselves of one tyrant and have one of our very own as our king! No distant king in the Stormlands, the Reach, Westerlands, the Vale or the north! But right here, in the Riverlands! And he asks you, men of the Riverlands to help him protect our freedom by taking up arms for the defence of the Riverlands, will you take up that cause he asks of you?"
Unbidden from his throat, a roar of "AYE!" Escaped from Forrest's throat and he was glad that he wasn't the only one that had screamed as so as everyone else had screamed the same. He puffed his chest out as he straightened his back. He had never thought about it really.
He had heard tales of the cruelty of Harren the Black. About how him and his ironborn raped septas of the Faith, married womenfolk and daughters, some even said they depraved themselves on sons and fathers as well.
Many praised the Seven that they lived nowhere near a river large enough for one of their longships.
Francis Charlton continued speaking after a moment to take in the roars of agreements that he had been met with. "Good, it shall be the job of me, Ser Wex and the sergeants you see around you to turn you from boys and into soldiers that would gladly defend the Riverlands from any who would dare threaten or take away our freedom." He motioned to the empty plot of land behind him. "As you can see, there is nothing here. Do not be alarmed, this here shall be where we build our barracks, what better way for men to bond than through honest, hard work of the likes of building their home?" He said with a smile that allowed a few ripples of laughter to spread through the ranks. "But until then, making and setting up camp shall have to suffice, but before that," He motioned to the side where he saw several men awaited them. "I think many of you are in need of a shave."
As the young lord had said, many of us had needed a shave. It didn't matter whether they had hair growing on their chin or not, hair was cut atop their heads down to a close shave that left nothing but whiskers. For the first time, Forrest could say that he could feel the breeze of the wind atop his head.
And with that, his first night as an enlisted soldier of the Royal Host ended with him setting up camp in their empty plot of land, seating around a fire with Arry, Tim, Lesley and other man of their company.
***
Much to my surprise, there was a certain order to Duskendale. I know comparing a city of nearly half a million and some several thousand souls is and somewhat stupid, but I couldn't help but admire that unlike King's Landing (despite never having seen it at all in my life) had its shit together.
The streets were cobbled and by the looks of it where well maintained, there was regular city watch patrols that kept the peace. All in all, when this city was being built, it was kept to a plan and that plan was kept to.
That was actually quite surprising.
So I made my appreciation of his little town to the lord of it. "You have a lovely town, my lord." I said as I turned around from the balcony of the Dun Fort that overlooked Duskendale as a whole.
I also wasn't certainly saying it for the pleasantries, but in truth, I was actually impressed. I couldn't even smell the hint of shit. That meant the Darklyns had sewers and they made sure they worked or that the sea winds blew away any kind of stench of that like away from the city.
Considering the feats of some Westerosi architect, I think I was going to say that they knew what they were doing when it came to city planning.
Lord Gared smiled pleasantly enough as he accepted my praise. "Thank you, your grace. Us Darklyns pride on this city of ours. It's the jewel of the Bay. Any merchant can find anything they wish within our vibrant markets."
It was actually a town, but I wasn't going to correct the man inside his own castle. Maybe in the future, I could very well award Duskendale with a city charter. Maybe that would make his grudge against me for taking his son and daughter hostage...then again, it was done to ensure loyalty for a somewhat floppy lord who's fealty was questionable at best.
Note to self, watch my drinks.
Or don't drink at all. Yeah, that was a good plan of action to follow.
"Anything they wish?" Franklyn noted with a raised eyebrow as he drank wine from a glass chalice. That was brave of him. "I suppose I shall have to take a moment and visit your markets then, my lord. Might find something of a gift for my lady wife."
"In that case, if you ever need suggestions for any jewellers, please ask." Lady Alyssa Darklyn chimed in, her voice soft and gentle. "I happen to be on personal times on some of the more prominent jewellers of the city. I'm sure they would offer a reasonable price."
Ser Franklyn Frey smiled as he inclined his head in a nod in the direction of the lady. "Thank you for the offer, my lady. I'll be sure to take you up on it."
I just learned something new. Apparently, Frankie boy is married. Why did I not know this? And how had it never come up?
Lady Alyssa's eyes flickered towards me for a moment. "Tell me your grace, how fair's my children?" Her husband's face turned a little stony at the question.
I probably wasn't his favourite person at this very moment in time since two of his favourite kids were in my most gracious care and not out of a free choice. I wouldn't like me either in that situation.
"Fine." I replied genuinely with the best smile I could offer. "Great actually, young Willum is being tutored by some of the finest Tully knights and they all agree that he has quite the talent with the sword. In the evenings or morning, Willum and Alys shadow me as I got about my duties, learning the little intricacies to ruling, though I admit, I have yet to find a suitable lady for young Alys to attend. Apologies for that, it shall be corrected as soon as possible."
The lady looked proud and happy as I told her about what her children had been up to in my care. Although the same couldn't be said for her husband. With the slightly furrowing of the brow and loosening of the jaw, I could tell that he was thinking I had just told him a load of shite.
He might be right. Ser Garret didn't say much about how good Willum was when it came to his martial training, that he was adequate. And telling me that he was adequate made it a bit difficult for me to gage his skill since the ser happened to be one of the best glorified killers in my employ. His adequate could very well be a different adequate to another person. So I just took that and thought that Willie boy must be good with the sword.
Oh wait, Lord Gared was talking to me now and not about his children.
"How went the talks with Argillac, your grace if you don't mind me intruding." Lord Gared asked, his body language insinuating he was rather curious judging by the slight leaning forward that he was doing.
"Quite well actually." Lies, nothing but lies. "We came to an understanding, even talked of future alliances and trade among various other things. The kingdom's borders are safe, Lord Darklyn, no need to worry."
"Oh I didn't worry, your grace. I was nothing more than confident in your abilities to come to an accord with the storm king."
If only it was so simple. Yes, me and Argillac had talked about trade and alliances to be made, but I had this sinking suspicion that he didn't think much of me. Whether it was my youth or relative inexperience or whatever it was.
I'm sure that I had even dropped a couple of subtle hints of a more solid alliance forged on the union of both me and Argella. It flew over his head or he ignored it, which pointed to him not really wanting to give his daughter away.
Did he find me lacking in something? What does a man have to do to convince a manly man that he was worthy of marrying his daughter? The whole thing had annoyed me on the way back.
I wasn't about to give up though. I was going to correspond with Argillac, and if that didn't work, I'm sure I could find some foreign princess somewhere to marry me to get some alliances so I don't have to worry about borders. I know the Most Devout Willis had said something about having the Faith have a couple of words with the foreign kings...but well, if the Faith was anything like the Catholic Church of back home in Medieval Europe, sometimes, it didn't matter what the local pope, bishop or whatever said on a matter.
They'd still do it.
I just with Aegon would just hurry up and make his way to Westeros already.
"Strange activity on Dragonstone?" The handsome Frey knight repeated with a raised eyebrow.
Dragonstone? That immediately caught my attention and got me excited. It was finally happening. IT WAS FINALLY FUCKING HAPPENING.
ABOUT TIME!!
Lord Gared nodded his head as he looked in the direction of the ancient seat of the Targaryens. "Strange reports about the Targaryens gathering men, mercenaries and such."
OH YEAH, THIS WAS GREAT.
I don't think I paid attention to a conversation more intently than this one happening right now. I had to sent a raven to Dragonstone and get something of a correspondent going on. To tell the Targaryens not to burn any of my crownland fiefs. That they had an ally.
Then something Lord Darklyn said caught me off-guard. "Wait, what?" I spoke up, cutting out the men mid-sentence. "Could you please repeat that, my lord?"
Lord Darklyn might as well have been annoyed with me just cutting him off like that, but I just didn't care. Something he had said had caught me off guard.
"Him and his sister-wives were seen flying east upon their beasts."
"East?" I blinked as I repeated the word. "Why east? Why is he going east?"
That didn't make any sense. Why the fuck was he going east? What was there to do anyway in the east?
A peace had come across the Free Cities, so there was definitely no need for any idiots to be introduced to the flying murder-beats anymore. Maybe they had been invited or something to some sort of occasion or something.
Like the Valyrian new year. Who the fuck knew?
"Your grace, are you well?" The lady of the castle asked me, eyes locked on me as I was deep in my thoughts.
I shook my head to clear it. I was thinking too much into it. I gifted the lady with a soft smile. "Sorry, I just had something on my mind. Apologies for that."
I had nothing to worry about.
***
Aegon had one job.
ONE JOB.
And he couldn't even carry it out right.
As if he needed my opinion of him to already sink to negative levels deep into the depths of the Seven hells more so than they already were.
Man... fuck that guy.
***
Now this is my personal opinion and YMMV depending on it, but I like to think that Aegon Targaryen is somewhat overrated as a king.
Just my opinion, but he isn't as all jacked up as he's supposed to be. I remember the books saying that he was a great warrior, yet he rode into battle on a motherfucking dragon. How much fighting do you do when you're riding a flying murder beast that spews fire from a distance? None. None at all.
So how the fuck was he a great warrior?
He was also a shitty king as well. He literally did nothing. Visenya and Rhaenys were pretty much the ones that built the first institutions of the Iron Throne. Visenya got the King's Guard up and running and I think she also did the same for the goldcloaks? Wasn't she also the one who got construction of the Red Keep up and running?
...Man, the things I would let Visenya do to me, but that's a bit off-topic.
Rhaenys was the one that built ties between the different kingdoms by marriage, lessening the likelihood of the kingdoms just deciding to splinter and do their own shit if it meant going against family in another kingdom. Well, that was my interpretation of what it meant anyway.
Hell, Aegon didn't even lead his armies, that was left to fucking Orys.
Exactly what the fuck did Aegon do anyway? Apart from creating the most uncomfortable looking chair in fictional history? Nothing, that's what.
The guy was useless.
For the love of god and all that is good and holy, it wasn't until the fourth Targaryen king that had the different laws of the Seven Kingdom codified into a single law system and guess what? That same king actually built roads. Not actual roads, but the closest thing to roads.
Once again, I reiterate the guy was fucking useless.
And I'm not just raging cos the little sister shagging, fucking useless cunt of a son of a bitch and dickish asshole had decided for some strange fucking reason to go and fucking make a kingdom in fucking Essos or anything like that.
Nah, I wasn't mad at all.
Honest.
***
I still can't wrap my head around it.
Why did Aegon go east? Why did he not come west? Was it because of something that I did? A butterfly that I had released that caused this sudden change of course in the history of Planetos? To say the very least, I was confused as all hell.
I went through everything that I did and tried to think of a way that could have done this, but I got nothing. I mean, I know killing Harren was a pretty big deal, refounding of the Kingdom of the Rivers and Hills (did not like the name, too much of a mouthful. Prefer Trident.) were pretty big deals, but I still don't see how those little things could affect him all the way in Dragonstone. I mean, I haven't even interacted with the man, not even once.
So I was very, very confused.
Just...just what was it?
"Your grace, is something the matter?"
I blinked as I was brought out of my thoughts and into the reality that I now found myself in. Right, I was in a room, with Grand Maester Jaimie, another maester by the name of Kevan and two half-maesters by the names of Yorrick and Samwise (ha). What were doing again? I looked down into my lap and saw the piles of parchment then it came back to me.
I was currently in the process of getting these esteemed learned men to try and draft me something I considered a reasonable code of law for the Rivers and Hills. See, the thing is, over the thousands of years, one kingdom or another had ruled the Riverlands and that kingdom or another had brought their own laws, traditions and customs. Those laws, traditions and customs didn't just leave when a new kingdom asserted it's dominance over the region, no, sometimes, they had been ingrained into the local populace of lords and smallfolk alike.
Which made the Riverlands and the northern part of the crownlands and criss-cross of different laws, customs and traditions.
These men in front of me had been given the task of taking all those laws and turning them into a single code of law for the kingdom.
My Napoleonic Code if you will.
I waved their concerns away. "Nothing. I was just thinking about our current work, my good sers." Most of this shit went over my head. I wasn't a lawyer, but I could at the very least, understand the basics, if explained in layman terms.
...
Oh god, were lawyers going to be a thing? Lawyers were definitely going to be a thing won't they?
What have I done? I meant to make the Riverlands better, not inflict another blight upon them worse than Harren.
This is all Aegon's fault. It just is.
I'm getting off track again, I should be listening to this meeting before punishments for relatively minor crimes somehow warrant punishments that would make Qin Shihuangdi proud. Though I doubt it would still be lenient for that guy.
Right, where are we...still talking on the subject of theft. Talking about cows now and wait a fucking moment.
"Death sentence for stealing or killing a cow? That's a bit extreme isn't it?" I nearly screamed out. What the fuck was wrong with these people and wanting to kill other people.
For crying out loud, a pick-pocket, if caught was liable to lose his fingers, a thief, his hand. I mean, that was fucking extreme. Thankfully, I was able to talk them down to the sentence of community service, although it had taken some arguments on my part to try and convince them why community service wasn't slavery in all aspects but another name. Samwise had argued that wasn't a suitable enough punishment as thieves would still recommit the crimes because they know they'll eventually be released after their time is up.
I argued for the three strikes rule. Get caught three times, you are going to end up losing something.
Which made me realise we are going to be in need of some talented artists to sketch the likeness of all thieves caught. I'd like to think myself a pragmatist. I'd rather not needlessly render one useless by making them a cripple.
...
Woah, where did that come from?
The learned men in the room looked at each other before Jaimie pushed up his non-existent glasses and explained it to me. "Your grace, the loss of one cow to a family of smallfolk is completely ruinous for that family. It might very well be a death sentence for that family. The law must reflect as much the gravity of the action." the other maesters nodded their heads in agreement at the statement by my Grand Maester,
One stolen cow somehow = the death of an entire peasant family? How did that even work?
I wanted to argue but I got the feeling that I would lose since unlike the rest of the times I had argued, this apparently, was that serious? I sighed as I slumped into my seat. "Fine. death sentence for stealing or killing a cow then. Let's move onto the next one then..."
Maester Kevan, it had been costly to acquire him and the two half maesters from the Citadel, inclined his head slightly. "A sound decision, your grace. Now we move onto the matter of the burning of fields in peace time. Now, the usual punishment for such an action varies different all around the riverlands..."
Oh god, I was going to be here until the day I die.
This was definitely Aegon's fault.
***
Man, fuck Aegon, if it wasn't for him, I'd be busy doing nothing but trying not to get killed for being a high lord in Westeros. Fuck that guy.
"Roads, your grace?"
Was I not speaking the Common Tongue?
"Yes, roads."
Ser Franklyn pursed his lips in thought for a moment. "We already have roads."
"No, we have well-trodden dirt tracks that everyone calls roads." I have seen some of the things the Westerosi pass for roads. I was not impressed. Like I said, they were just well-trodden dirt tracks that everyone called roads. "Proper roads would be a boon for our fledgling kingdom. They would allow faster travel times overland, connect the settlements together."
The Frey of the Crossings quirked an eyebrow in thought for a moment. "So you want well-trodden dirt tracks all over your kingdom?"
Ha. I suppose he thought himself rather funny.
"You are aware of the Valyrian roads that are found in Essos?"
"I've read about them. I hear the knowledge to build such roads was lost to time when the Freehold was consumed by the Doom." Dark eyes bore into me with a soft intensity. "Have you rediscovered that knowledge then, your grace?"
I let out a snort. "Nothing of the sort. I just happen to want paved roads for my kingdom, that's all. And I think you're the man that'll make it happen."
"You've already tasked me with the building of these...canals of yours." He shook his head, probably silently cursing me in his head at the amount of work I just keep on piling on him. "Do we even have the coin for this?"
I glanced towards the beleaguered finance minister as he looked up from the ledgers. "We do, but I suggest we take one of your projects at a time, your grace. We don't want to be throwing all our coin into several ventures all at the same time."
I suppose he had a point. "Start with the roads first." I told my Frey minister who I had yet to give an official position in my government apart from my go to guy to do stuff for me. "Then we'll move on to seeing if we can build the canal but keep men surveying the routes and making the calculations. The better of an understanding of what we'll be working with when it comes to building the canal, the better."
Ser Franklying nodded as he bowed politely. "Understood, your grace. Your will shall be done."
He left us then, leaving me and my minister of finance. I turned to face him and prepared to place more work on the plain looking man. "Now, how goes about issuing our own coin?" Cos the riverlands was sort of like mainland Europe during the time of William the Conqueror.
Any coin from any of the kingdoms flied. Now we just couldn't have that. I don't the specifics, but I'd like to think that wasn't a particularly good thing to have.
Man, fuck Aegon.
***
By all accounts, the first of my legion was coming up nicely. They were being constantly drilled day in, day out. I also made sure to enquire that all arms of the Army of the Trident (fuck calling it Army of the Rivers and Hills, that's a mouthful) trained together in a bid to teach them teamwork. In other words, I think I was introducing Westeros to the idea of combined arms doctrine, or whatever little I could remember about it.
Something about infantry being supported by calvary by being supported by archers and artillery...something like that. There wasn't a Gold Company to jack all of their ideas from anyway.
"The men are coming along nicely, your grace." said Ser Patrek as he lifted a glass of wine to his lips. "Everyone's in good spirit and everything is going as well as it should be."
"How about the idea?" I enquired.
"About fighting for the Trident?" I nodded as an answer to his question. "Hm, I think it's slowly being bought, your grace. The officers have been giving out speeches about protecting the riverlands. Those bards you hired sing songs about past 'atrocities' committed by the other kingdoms." I think me and him both knew most of those atrocities the bards were singing about were pure bullshit.
Didn't matter though. I was trying to get an identity set up here. A national identity. Something in common for the man to rally round and fight for. If that meant slandering the other kingdoms to hell and back (mostly the ironborn, cos fuck them) then everything was a-alright with me.
I also happened to have bards going round singing such songs in towns, villages and anything in-between. It was still early days, but the field was slowly being planted. All that was left to do was make sure that it grew.
"Near four thousand men already?" I whistled. "That's good progress." Considering that it had not even been a year yet. Things were definitely going rather well in terms of recruitment. Perhaps too well. "Although I suggest you spread out the net a little wider to other parts of the kingdom. We don't want to take away too many farm boys from the fields."
"I thought about that, your grace and have already instructed the men so."
If I remembered correctly, the numbers of a manageable army could only amount to 1-2% for a medieval, rural society like the one I had found myself in. So I think I was in the clear with a standing force of twenty-one thousand men. Then again, I didn't have a fucking clue to what the total population of my newfound kingdom was.
Note to self, get a census sorted out as soon as possible.
Why stop there? Get the whole Domesday Book scenario going.
Then came the logistics of the whole matter. I wanted to legion in the set up of the Army. I had once read that on average, a single legion needed 13.5 tonnes of food to feed it for a month. That was a good number to work by. Problem is, I can't remember which period of the Roman war machine that particular number could be applied to. It ran the gamut of being able to be applied to any legion organisation from the early days of the Republic to the latter days of the Empire.
And I wasn't even including the food for the horses that made up the calvary. God knows horses ate a shit tonne of food, so that was probably going to push up the amount of supplies a legion needed to function for a month.
It seems, by the looks of things, I was going to have to science the shit out of this.
'An army that marched on an empty stomach wasn't an army at all.' Julius Caesar once said, probably. So that was definitely something to look into it.
"It won't be long now till we can give the men their arms and armour." The first of the steelworks were slowly but still coming into being thanks to the efforts of Mikken, Blake and the Grand Maester sorting out the more technical aspects, but I needed people to work in them and thus, I was going to have to reach out to the Smith's Guild. I could have just hired people of the street, but I needed the instant expertise of experienced professionals to quickly harmer out the arms and armour for my army. "I know you have been asking about that. Apologies for it being so late."
Ser Patrek rejected my apology. "No need, your grace. Even without the armour, these men are far better than any levy the other kingdoms can throw at us."
I liked how confident he was. That was somewhat reassuring in me knowing I had put the right man in the right job.
It was a shame that ships couldn't be built as fast as men were trained. Lyam had been on my curse, warry of an attack from the sea, either from the ironborn or predatory lions from the west.
How did the assembly line go again?
Man, this was Aegon's fault.
***
AN: The shark has jumped and I'm going to go in a completely new direction with the history of Westeros. I have ideas of plots, and these ideas will test me of how good a writer I am into translating them onto paper...eh screen, well you get the idea. So yeah, let's see what happens.
Timeskip next, but not an overly large one and I think it will be a short volume, mostly a catch-up of what's been happening in the world. POVs from other characters to be expected.
Then moving on to the next volume and the likes.