Royce Caron I
Why is the Prince here ?!
And how the FUCK DID HE MANAGE TO SNEAK SO MANY SOLDIERS UNDER SO MANY PEOPLE'S NOSES!
AND WHERE DID HE FIND SO MUCH STEEL ?!
Royce looked out of the windows of his solar, outside the walls of his keep lay thousand of soldiers, each one equipped with light steel armor, along with an oversized spear and a round shield.
It was a peculiar sight, but it was clear that each one of them was well trained, they marched in unison, laid the tents at spectacular speed, and held their pikes with unfailing conviction.
The sound of porcelain hitting porcelain urged him to look back at the prince as he put down his cup.
"Lord Caron, would you be receptive to some tea? It has quite a calming effect, I hear." Said the smug little sh*t.
He barely managed to hide his scowl before he replied.
"No thank you, your Grace. But if you don't mind me wondering, and with the risk of sounding presumptuous, why are you here?" He may not be as successful at hiding his snark, however.
"Calm, my Lord. I come bearing good news."
"Good news?"
"Oh yes, you see, some three moons ago I was assailed by a frightening retinue of mounted knights on the road to Kingslanding. As you may have surmised, the attack was an assassination, an attempt by someone towards the life of the Heir of the seven kingdoms."
"Excuse me your grace, but this does not sound like good news. On the contrary, to have someone attempting such things at the height of the Targaryen dynasty seems to be more of the contrary."
Baelon took another sip of tea as his grin widened.
"Oh but it is! You see, after a thorough investigation, I managed to uncover the source of the assassination attack or at least the general area where the true culprit resides."
Royce couldn't help but lift an eyebrow.
"And where may they be, your Grace?"
"Dorne."
He stilled in his seat as the information registered in his mind. This couldn't be true, Dornish people may be despicable but they have no reason to-
Oh, Ooooh.
This cheeky little bugger.
Lord Caron sagged in his chair in exasperation.
He was hoping for a peaceful life, a luxurious life as the Lord of Nightsong for the remainder of his life, his father told him war stories, about how shitty it is.
"So you aim to lead your mysterious standing army to take revenge and deal justice then, your Grace."
"Oh no! Not at all, I may have fought my fair share of battles, but those were against bandits, raiders, and wildlings. And for all my affinity with the art of war, I do find bloodshed quite repulsive."
"Quite."
"..."
"So, what is your course of action, your Grace?"
"Why, ask for reparations, of course! I am but of four and ten name days, do you have any idea of the amount of terror and despair that I felt at the sight of those scary, intimidating catspaws? If it weren't for my sworn shield here, then I would have perished. Isn't that right, Rodrick?" He turns at the fully armored imposing figure next to him.
"I am sure Xyrax caused those bandits even more trepidation, your Grace."
Baelon mockingly holds his chest.
"Oh, how could you wound me so! Xyrax, while majestic, is nothing but adorable. Look at him! He's just like a dog."
Royce glanced out of the window just to see a purple dragon playing with a big boar eerily similar to how a hound plays with its food.
He blanched, to compare such a being of destruction to a dog, the prince sure is as eccentric as they say.
"It amazes me the amount of influence that you hold over your Dragon, your Grace. I heard it is unprecedented since the days of Old Valyria." He replied.
"Well... the bond between man and dragon is a mysterious thing. But I digress, my Lord, I hope that you wouldn't mind us staying in your wonderful castle, for a time. I assure you that we brought our food and drink, and most of the soldiers will camp outside the keep."
"I find no issues with it, although I wish to inquire about the nature of your activities in Dorne, your Grace. I'm sure you understand, that as Lord of the Marshes, it is my duty to be informed of any event that could cause mayhem on the red mountains."
"Well, it is quite simple, since I cannot find who ordered my death, I will just visit from Wyl to Sunspear to demand reparations, one of them is bound to be the culprit, don't you think?"
Is he nuts?!
"W-what? Your grace, that is unreasonable, there is no way in the seven hells that anyone would accept those demands! No one will pay for something they didn't do, especially if there is no evidence to bear!"
His smile gets more mirthful as if he knew something I didn't.
"Well, I disagree. Who knows, some of them might even come out of their own volition."
"Wha-"
He gets interrupted by a guard barging into the room as if his life depended on it.
"My Lord! My Lord! Urgent news!" *gasp*
"Speak!"
"An *gasp*, an army is coming to the Keep, from Dorne!"
"WHAT!"
"See! I told you!"
"WHAT!"
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What the hell is happening here ?!
Royce's mouth falls off its hinges as he sees the door to his castle open, to the Dornish!
He couldn't believe it. The last time a Dayne came into this castle was before the Conquest, and it certainly wasn't as guests.
After much hesitation, he urged himself forwards to welcome the Dayne. Meanwhile, a 3 thousand host of cavalry is setting camp outside his doors.
He stood before the purple-eyed, black-haired, man.
"Welcome, Lord Dayne, to Nightsong. It is... a pleasure to have you here."
"The pleasure is mine, Lord Royce, I never thought I'd ever be able to step foot in here, but Fate proves itself as whimsical as always. I am sure Lords Fowler, Manwoody, and Blackmont will be quite as fascinated." He replies, a cheeky smirk on his face.
"E-excuse me?"
"Oh yes, haven't you heard? The Houses of the Prince's Pass heard about Prince Baelon's plight, so we came to give our reparations."
"I-I do not understand, reparations? Do you admit to ordering the assassination of his Grace?!"
"Oh, no we do not. Though I may understand your reason for thinking so. The reality of the matter is that we tried to do our investigations about this event, but sadly, we found ourselves equally unsuccessful, so we came to the prince to offer our apologies."
*Sigh*
"And what of the army camping outside my doors, along with the prince's?"
"Just escorts, nothing more. The prince's pass isn't as safe as it was, I'm sure you understand."
"Yes, quite."
Pull the godsdamned other foot!
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"My Lord! Another host is approaching the castle! They bear the flags of House Tarly!"
"What!"
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"My Lord! There is a new host on our doors!"
"Again ?! Who is it!"
"House Donddarion, my lord."
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"My Lord!"
*Sigh*
"Alright, tell me about it on the way to the gate."
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The Prince sat at the main chair of the Hall of the main keep.
He sat at his right, as the Lord of the castle, with Lords Tarly and Donddarion on his left.
In front of him stood the dornish lords, with Lord Dayne at their head.
"Your Grace! We come before you, not as enemies, but as allies, sympathetic to your cause!" Said Alleras Dayne.
A bunch of 'Aye's sounded out from the Lords behind him.
"When we heard that one of us, one of Dorne! Attempted to end your life through treachery, and risked the peace of Dorne in doing so, we were appalled! How could one be so cowardly?! So weak! So despicable!"
"We know the reputation of Dorne! Cowardly snakes! Loathsome traitors! Abhorrent bandits! No more! No longer I say! I'd rather gouge my eyes, pull out my tongue, and cut off my limbs than being compared to the likes of the grasping Yronwoods, the scheming Martells, THE ABHORRENT WYLS!"
Dayne pulled out his gleaming ancestral sword. The surrounding guards furtively did the same, just in case.
"I will not have it! NO, WE WILL NOT HAVE IT!"
""AYE!""
Alleras stabbed Dawn onto the floor, and as the legendary sword went into the ground, so did he, until his head looked up to the Prince and his knees were level with his feet.
"AND SO, FROM TODAY HENCEFORTH, HOUSE DAYNE OF STARFALL SHALL SECEDE FROM THE PRINCEDOM OF DORNE! AND LOOK UP TO THE IRON THRONE AS ITS SINGLE, ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY!" He announces.
His fellow lords copy his actions.
"SO DOES HOUSE FOWLER!"
"AND HOUSE BLACKMONT!"
"AND MANWOODY!"
"AND THE DAYNES OF HIGH HERMITAGE!"
A deafening roar echoes through the room, but Royce only looked to one man, the Prince.
His body froze, he saw Prince Baelon with a smile so wide, and his eyes unblinking, filled with a sparkle that seemed to shine above all else.
Amidst the uproar, Baelon, as if entranced, stepped on the main table as if it was but a foothold, straight towards the kneeling Dayne.
The sound of his chair scraping the floor silenced the crowd, so they watch the prince as if possessed with an unknown purpose, standing in front of the kneeling Dayne and unsheathing his sword, Blackfyre.
He put the sword over one of Dayne's shoulders, the Valyrian steel unbuttoning one of the lord's cape's buttons.
"Do you, Lord Alleras Dayne, swear your allegiance to King Viserys the First of his name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and his heirs and successors ?" Questioned the Prince.
"Yes, I do."
The Prince switches his sword to the other side, causing the Lord's cape to fall to the floor in its entirety.
"Then rise, Lord Alleras Dayne, as the Lord of Starfall, the Sword of the Morning, and in the authority granted to me by the King, I name you Lord Paramount of Dorne, for the Houses of Dorne to pledge allegiance to you as their liege, second only to the King, and with all it entails."
As if knowing the importance of this event, Baelon's dragon spews out brilliant golden flames to the sky, illuminating the halls in a brilliant hue, a sight that many would be unable to forget, even if they tried to.
The newly named Lord Paramount of Dorne rises, an inscrutable look on his face.
"Thank you, your Grace."
Baelon clasps his hands with Dayne's forearm, a joyous smile adorning his face.
"My friends call me Baelon."
And as the Prince went on to receive the oaths of the other lords in the name of the King, every spectator knew that they just witnessed history in the making.
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After a night of much feasting and celebration, the various lords and commanders stood around a map including the Marches and Dorne.
There were several small wooden figurines, each representing certain units of the army.
Next to the table, Royce began to speak.
"My Prince, our host currently numbers three and thirty thousand troops, nine thousand of these are your standing infantry, and another nine are levies assembled by myself, and Lords Tarly and Dondarrion. four thousand are also heavy cavalry brought to bear by us three. And the last one and ten are all light cavalry brought by our Dornish friends."
"Hmmm... Lord Dayne, how many troops do you think can the Princedom of Dorne raise, if given the time."
"Your Grace, as you may know, there have been some skirmishes between House Nymeros-Martell and House Yronwood. So even though their troops may be hardened in the field of battle, combined the estimated amount is five and twenty dornish spears, along with some eight thousand cavalry. That is without taking into account the recent shortage in food." Replies Dayne.
Some of the Reachmen and Stormlander's faces sour at his almost casual way of addressing him, but considering that it was requested by the Prince, they got over it.
"Your Grace! We must use our access to the Prince's pass to march straight to Sunspear, then we can take the head of the enemy in one single stroke!" Exclaims Lord Tarly, receiving some nods from many of the people present.
"That may not work! A host this large can be seen from miles away, they will scatter to the winds before we can catch a whiff of their sent! We must start taking every castle from the boneway 'till the Greenblood!"
"Then they would just retreat into their castles, raze their villages, and leave us to starve in the open!"
While the Lords were bickering, Baelon was looking at the map intently. He moved some of the pieces, causing the Lords to quieten.
"A brave man will tell you that war is fought through grit and strength of arms. A sinister man would call the brave one foolish, as he believes that deception is the key to winning battles. While a scholar would call the war a matter of mathematics because numbers matter the most. Who do you believe is right, my lords?" Interjects the Prince.
Royce looks at the prince quizzically, what is he up to again?
"None of them, war is built on information, what do you know, what your opponent knows, and what may be wrong with your information. Those are the foremost things one must ask oneself when strategizing a war. What do we know? We know that the enemy is divided into two factions, and we know that if given the time, they may raise a larger, stronger force than ours.
But what does the enemy know? Nothing, they have no idea that we have gathered a host, they do not know that we have a dragon, but most importantly, they don't know that we have the Lords of the Red Mountains -aside from the Wyls and Yronwoods- on our side."
He couldn't help but notice that the prince omitted the answer to his third question.
"Our strategy should take advantage of every piece of information that we have. So, we will split our host into two. One of them will be consisted of all non-dornish soldiers, as in four thousand heavy cavalries and 18 infantry, half of them professional, the other inexperienced, and one dragon. The other half will consist of pure cavalry, and considering that it is dornish then it is guaranteed that it will be the fastest moving army in Westeros."
"The first host, led by yours truly, will advance slowly on the Dornish castles, we shall begin with Wyl, then slowly besiege every single castle on the way to Yronwood.
The other host, led by Alleras, will head down the Prince's pass and take Sandstone in the quickest way possible, but you mustn't, under no circumstances, allow any information to leak, for the Martells, Sandstone might as well be the safest castle in Dorne."
"But your grace, what if the Martells muster their forces and support the Yronwoods? Then we will be outnumbered by people used to the terrain and experienced in dealing with dragons." Asks Royce.
"Arrogance, the Martells rose to prominence through scheming, they pitted other houses against each other and fed on their remains. Qoren Martell will foolishly believe that he can deal with us alone. And why wouldn't he?
Dorne fought against an army many times larger than two and ten thousand, an army accompanied by three mighty dragons, and they won. So, thinking himself mighty, he will call his banners and gather them close to the Greenblood in preparation for dealing with a weakened army.
And hopefully, if he doesn't come to know of our new dornish allies, then he will call upon their support as well, at which point the Lords will instruct their Maesters to send missives of a third imaginary host, heading down the Prince's pass.
After conquering Yronwood, we will march on Sunspear at once, the Martell host will need to take an advantageous position since the scorpions need to be stationary.
From a tactical standpoint, if they were to face an army that is heavy in the infantry, the best location would be between the Scourge and the Vaith close to the confluence of the two, since the closer you get to the Greenblood, the harder it is to walk through the rivers.
There are two bridges, one next to the castle Vaith, and the other leading straight to Godsgrace. They will have to control access to these two bridges at all costs since they will need them to intercept us in case we try to bypass them.
Out of the two bridges, the one next to the Vaith is going to be more vulnerable, as it's going to be the closest to our army.
Our plan is going to be...."
Royce was apprehensive at first, but the more the Prince talked, the more this sounded like a good idea.
War might not be as horrible as he thought.