Standing up he felt the muscles in his shoulders stiffen, far too long
spent slumped over maps, scrolls and assorted documents and
reports no doubt, and not enough time spent in the yard to work out
the stress of leading an army. Though a glance out of the tall, and
thankfully glass windows of this well-appointed chambers in
Longtable castle, sent shivers through Ormund, for a thin sleet was
falling.
And one of the biggest sources of stress was seated across the
large table from him, Prince Aemond Targaryen, Lord Protector of
the Realm. The lad was as arrogant as he was pig headed, and his
only redeeming feature to Ormund's eyes was that he rode the
largest dragon in Westeros, the great beast Vhagar. Also sat at the
table was the purported Hand of the King, Ser Criston Cole, though
with the king captured Ormund did not know what Cole's duties
were. The younger Prince, Daeron, or Ser Daeron the Daring as he
had named the lad as he had knighted him, sat also, as opposed to
his elder brother who sprawled in his chair and who even as Ormund
watched incredulous, proceeded to hike first one, and then another
boot clad foot up onto the table.
A few other senior lords were also seated at the table, this meeting
had been called for the early afternoon, to make sure that most, and
Prince Aemon in particular, were not still suffering the ill effects of
their drinking from the night before. Longtable and its associated
town were being forced to supply the army and cellars of wine and
beer were being drained at an alarming rate. Not that he cared much
for himself, he only partook moderately of wine or ale, but when the
drink would run out, there might be problems. But hopefully they
would not be here when first the drink and then shortly afterwards
the food ran out.
When he had the attention of most of the table, though Prince
Aemond was staring off into space, no doubt reliving his latest carnal
exploits, the lad had carved a swathe through the serving wenches
of the castle. No doubt more than one silver haired bastard would
drop from swollen bellies in due course, more headaches that the
Princes mere presence seemed to generate to Ormund's mind.
Thankfully he had Lady Merryweather, her daughters and ladies in
waiting dispatched to the nearby castle of a minor knight before
Aemond had a chance to cause even more trouble.
"As the Starks are famous for saying, 'Winter is Coming', well, winter
is here, the Citadel has confirmed it, and we can feel it in our bones
even here in Longtable. Frosts have been falling for the last few
weeks on and off, frosts have been reported as far south as Cider
Hall. It has snowed in Kings Landing several times already, this
winter is already shaping up to be a long and cruel one. And
traditionally winter is not a time when wars are fought."
"Are you going to be as much of a coward as your brother was as
Hand Lord Hightower?" came the languid, almost bored sounding
voice of Prince Aemond. He had to restrain himself from reaching for
the sword that was not at his hip, this pup was insufferable!
"Your Grace" her replied through gritted teeth "I am laying out the
general situation that we find ourselves in, after which I will lay out
the various options open to us with respect to ending this war before
winter makes it impossible to end. Then I will invite discussion and
we can debate if I'm a coward or not!"
"I am a Prince of the blood, the Lord Protector of the Realm, and a
dragonrider to boot!" came the reply from Prince Aemond, "and I
have every right to ask you any question I like, when I like!"
Ormund noticed Ser Criston Cole place a hand on Prince Aemonds
arm, before he said, "I am sure his grace meant no disrespect,
please continue Lord Hightower."
"I did mean it as an insult!" hissed Aemon, red faced but Ormond
ignored him and just raised his voice above the protestations of the
Prince "The key to the elimination of the last remaining support for
Queen Rhaenyra and to tighten our grip on the realm is Tumbleton
the riverine system that has its nexus at Tumbleton allows for
produce from the north-eastern potion of the Reach to be conveyed
to Kings Landing and places beyond. Take Tumbleton and you cut
off not just Kings Landing from the food of the Reach, but you also
seal off the rest of the Seven Kingdoms from trade with the Reach.
With winter now upon us this will cut off the Riverlands, the
Crownlands and the Vale from the produce of the Reach. The North
is similarly disadvantaged, but it has already been impacted by the
lack of seaborne trade to White Harbor. Winter crops can be sown of
course, but their yields are typically a 1/3rd to a ½ of that of summer
crops, and some winter crops are not really suitable for shipment
great distances, and these tend to be consumed close to where they
are grown."
As he paused for breath Prince Aemond let out a long yawn, which
he pointedly ignored and he continued "We move within the moon,
marching along the Mander, taking first Bitterbridge and then
Tumbleton, cutting off those parts of the realm who do not recognise
the legitimacy of King Aegon, 2nd of his name, from the food
supplies that they need to survive the Winter. Lest see how long that
usurping bitch Rhaenyra can keep her grip on the Iron Throne then!"
"An admirable plan my Lord" drawled Prince Aemond, and Ormund
knew the arrogant fool was about the fall headfirst into the trap he
did not even see "but what of the, how many is it, oh yes, seven
dragons that Rhaenyra has at her disposal in Kings Landing? I
assume that they will just sit still and allow this march of yours to go
uncontested?"
"No, they will not, but they will be 'otherwise engaged'."
"Will they, have the Three Daughters recovered their stones and
decided to rejoin he war on our side? Or mayhaps Braavos, or
Pentos. No! I know….Volantis, Volantis has decided to join our
cause!" the Princes words dripping with scorn.
"No, nothing so fantastical, though representations have been made
to the First Daughter on behalf of King Aegon, but the Triarchy
remain deadlocked on actually committing to our cause. We should
not expect any support from that quarter in the short term. The rest
you can also discount your Grace."
"Well then? What?" snapped Prince Aemond.
"We need a way to reduce our enemy's superiority in dragons, but
we also need victories, memorable victories. Nor just for their own
sake, but for the sake of our cause and so that other plans that are in
motion may mature sufficiently…"
"You speak in riddles man! Speak plainer!" commanded Prince
Aemond, while he and Ser Criston Cole shared the briefest of
glances. Yes, this Prince was altogether unsuitable, he must be kept
as far away from the levers of power as possible. Wine and whores
should do the trick for now and making sure that the boy was kept in
the dark as much as possible about what was going on. He was not
about to blab about some of their plans before this idiot, who would
likely spill them into the ears of his next bed mate or drinking
companion.
"There are items I am not at liberty to discuss in this company, but
they are of only marginal relevance for now. For now, we must
concentrate on the part that you and your brother Prince Daeron
must play."
"What, what role, exactly?" the Prince's eyes narrowed, and Ormund
did not like the way Aemond's eyes flickered over his younger
brother. It was a risk he was taking, and he would not put it part
Aemond to arrange for some accident for Daeron should he ever get
wind of what Cole and he were plotting.
"As Lord Ormund said, we need victories, so this is our plan" Ser
Criston Cole took up the task of lecturing the petulant boy who
thought his titles and blood gave him the right to know everything.
"Rhaenyra has abandoned Dragonstone, though not completely it
has to be said, the garrison there is reduced to a minimum and our
agents tell us that there are only two dragons in residence,
Sheepstealer and Moondancer. Vhagar and Tessarion should be
easily able to defeat the pair of them."
"Defeat them, and then what, take Dragonstone?" asked Prince
Daeron, getting a comment in before his older brother could.
"No your Grace, dragons alone could not take Dragonstone" Cole
replied.
"Pah! We could burn the castle to the ground, that would surely give
that bitch atop my brothers throne a decent case of constipation!"
"Alas not your Grace" Cole once again rose to the challenge "the
stone that the castle of Dragonstone is made of is impervious to
dragonfire, it is suffused with the magics of its builders. I witnessed
this very fact many years ago."
"Fuck it then!" cursed Prince Aemond "We can burn the town and
any ships we find instead!"
"We would not recommend that your Grace, once you have
eliminated the dragons on Dragonstone there will be a supply ship
waiting for you offshore, it will provide freshly slaughtered carcasses
for your dragons to feed upon and food and refreshments for you.
Here" Ser Criston pointed to a map of Dragonstone "in this bay here
the ship will be anchored."
"And, and then what?" asked the Prince, who gave the map of
Dragonstone the briefest of glances, before he lost interest.
"You will fly onwards to the Eyrie in the Vale, there you will kill
Tyraxes and force the surrender of the Eyrie, under pain of
destruction by dragonfire. There are Lords of the Vale who are, shall
we say, unhappy with both the rule of Lady Jeyne Arryn and with the
direction she has taken the Vale in with respect to the rightful ruler of
the Seven Kingdoms. These leal men have sufficient forces already
in the Eyrie so that when you force the surrender, they will assist you
in keeping the Eyrie under control."
"Princess Rhaena is at the Eyrie, is she not?" asked Aemond, a
disturbing light evident in his eyes.
"Indeed she is, but she is to be taken as a hostage your Grace, and
not harmed. We plan to trade the hostages you will take in the Eyrie
for those that Queen Rhaenyra holds in Kings Landing."
"Don't call her a Queen! Never call that usurping cunt a Queen again
within earshot Lord Ormund or so help me I will have Vhagar burn
you!"
"My apologies your Grace, an unfortunate slip of the tongue" he
replied as courteously as he could, giving the little shit a bow to hide
the grimace of distaste on his face.
"Oh, and you must not worry Lord Ormund, I will not harm dear
Rhaena, on the contrary I will honor the Princess to the fullest of my
abilities."