The Eminence in GOT-Chapter 59: The die is cast (Part 2)

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Three days after the Battle of Blackwater, Mid-ninth month of the year 299 A.D.E.

The main cabin of the ship King of Beasts, port of Sunspear, Dorne.

«Are those exact figures? - Doran frowned at me, sitting down in one of the chairs. He hadn't been very ceremonious with me and his brother for a long time, and sat in a position that made his illness as uncomfortable as possible.

«Yes," I nodded, handing him a recent message with green and red markings.

The siege of King's Landing ended in tactical defeat for Stannis Baratheon and strategic defeat for the Lannister and Tyrell alliance. Those failed to completely defeat the Last Stag, only forcing him to retreat back to his lands without suffering serious losses in army and navy.

«That's bad. - Frowning his eyebrows even more, the First Prince of Dorne said.

«What do you mean brother? It's a good thing! - Oberyn grinned happily, taking a big sip of emerald wine. - Now the Lannisters will have to fight on two fronts, the Northmen and the Stormborn. The collapse of their house is obvious.

«It's not that simple, Oberyn. - Doran shook his head negatively. - At first glance it looks as if the lions are losing, but in truth they are far from defeated.

«Robb Stark's army consists of twenty-three thousand Northmen and seventeen thousand rivermen. Together, that's forty thousand. - I continued the thought, as the most knowledgeable and the one who brought this news at all. - Stannis, after the siege of King's Landing, had thirty or thirty-two at best. The Lannisters, on the other hand, are not as bad off as they seem. Ten thousand now hold Harrenhal and block the Kingsroad for the northern army. Fifteen stand beneath the walls of the capital, waiting for new orders. Two thousand more, under the command of Keevan Lannister, who has gathered the survivors and splinter groups from the Old Lion's defeat at Jester's Crossing, are standing in the Wanderer's Haven, recovering from the battle. And we can't forget about my brother, who "took advantage of"-I emphasized the last word. - ... by the Young Wolf's departure from the West and is now sluggishly laying siege to the Golden Tooth, stalling more than trying to drive the Northmen out of there. That leaves the lions with almost 32,000 men. Add to them sixty thousand Tyrells and we get an army of ninety thousand swords. That's a pretty big advantage over the other two kings. So the winner is yet to be decided, Oberyn. And it won't be for a very long time.

«And it will most likely be the Lannisters. - Doran added, making Oberyn and me look at him in surprise. - You're forgetting something. The Vale is the breadbasket of the Seven Kingdoms. And judging by the white crows at the Citadel, winter is closer than ever. The North has never been rich in crops, and the Riverlands are on fire. The Stormlands in the approaching rainy season are outnumbered if not outclassed. At the prospect of a long war, whoever has the largest grain reserves in their barns will win. And that's neither Stark nor Baratheon.

"He's right about that," I thought, scratching my recently grown beard. In truth, I was well aware that the war would not end simply like this, which is why I had ordered Joffrey's assassination. No matter how unruly and sadistic that boy was, my only agent at the Red Keep, who'd escaped the grasp of the Spider, Littlefinger, and the queen, had some very disappointing news: no matter how hard that lion cub kicked and bit, he couldn't even meow against his grandfather, Tywin Lannister. Under him, the Old Lion would definitely take the reins of power into his own hands and the Young Wolf and the Last Deer would have a hard time.

On the other hand, Tomainn's psycho-portrait was almost the exact opposite of his brother - kind, soft, malleable, gentle and very easily persuaded. This boy was now at the age when the core on which a person's personality and principles are built is just being formed. And knowing the Queen of Spikes and her granddaughter, not far removed from her grandmother, I can well imagine what battles will begin for influence over the minor king. The Lannisters and Tyrells will be at each other's throats before the Starks and Baratheons do.

There was an oppressive silence where Oberyn and I silently sipped our summer wine and Doran peeled a red orange with a razor-sharp knife, easily and casually slicing off the yellow rind, leaving only the ruby flesh.

«So why did you call us to your ship? - Doran finally asked me, reminding me why I'd lured the two princes out of their castle and asked them to come here in the first place.

«I have a gift for you. - I said and turned toward the wide door leading to the cabin and shouted. - Guys, bring him in!

In just a few seconds the door opened and a giant cage pulled from the hold was brought in, completely covered with a dense red cloth, from under which a loud inhuman growl could be heard.

«Oh Fel, you found another unknown creature at the edge of the world and decided to give it to us? - Oberyn asked, surprised and a little sarcastically, standing up and walking around the trembling cage. - You know Doran doesn't like exotic animals.

«That's where you're wrong, my friend. - He grinned, walking over to the cage and taking the cloth covering it in his hand. - Though not far removed from the beast, it is a man. A man who, by a foolish joke of the gods, has the right to walk this earth. And he's done a lot of damage to a lot of people. Especially your house.

After those words, I pulled the cloth down with force and had the pleasure of seeing two shocked looks belonging to the princes of Dorne.

«Clegane... - Doran almost whispered, dropping the knife from his hands, which fell to the floor with a clang.

«I don't believe it... What is Horus doing here? - Oberyn whispered in disbelief, standing up and walking to the cage where one of the strongest and most dangerous men in all the Seven Kingdoms - the head of House Clegane, Grigor Clegane - was sitting on an all-metal chair.

«LET ME GO, YOU BASTARDS!!! - The giant roared, making us involuntarily grab our ears.

"Damn mutant," I thought involuntarily, taking a small iron tube with a needle from a servant and jabbing it into the Mount's bare shoulder, which was bubbling with steel muscles.

«A tincture of belirianna, calendula, summer mint, and the secret of the Ithian sloth. It'll knock him out for a few hours. And give us time to talk for a while. - I answered the mute question as Grigor fell asleep before my eyes, helplessly lowering his shaved head lower and lower.

Clegane was barely two and a half meters tall, which on Earth would have made him an invalid who either had to spend his entire life in bed or carefully monitor himself to make sure his organs, joints, and bones were working properly. But no - this monster not only had incredible health and no problems with his height, but was also incredibly strong. So much so that chopping a horse in half didn't require much effort on his part.

According to Quibernus, who had left his dungeons on purpose and spent almost a week near the Mountain, scrutinizing and studying him, it was all about his brain. When he had had his skull trepanized, he had found there a large tumor in the middle part, where the main secretory parts were located. In his opinion, it was the reason for the growth of the Mountain, as well as haunting him since childhood headaches, causing uncontrollable bouts of aggression and sexual excitement. And Grigor fought with it in a very simple way - he lavished poppy milk or opium in liter mugs, becoming not only a murderer and rapist, but also a drug addict who could not live without this nasty stuff.

In my opinion, it was more humane to kill this animal in human form than to torture or abuse him. For him, who had been without poppy juice for weeks, it wouldn't make any difference.

All of this, medical terms removed or simplified, I told Doran and Oberyn, who were slowly coming to their senses. And before the other began to resent my last words, the Grandlord of Dorne raised his hand, silencing his younger brother, and turned to me:

«This is all very interesting, Felix, but you forgot to mention the most important thing. - With a frown on his face, he said. - How did Tywin Lannister's chief thug, who was supposed to be Rob Stark's prisoner, end up here? Chained to a chair and in a cage?

«My prince, you do remember that my brother was the one who led the five thousand man Lannister army holding back the Northmen on their way to Lannisport, don't you? - I asked and, seeing the nod, continued. - He was the one who gave the Starks the map of the mountain trails that would allow them to break into the central West, and then quickly move their forces to Jester's Brood and ambush Tywin's army. In return, he asked the Starks for a few favors and one of them was The Mountain, for whom I promised to hand over good money. That's how he ended up here, when my men took him from the Rock and brought him here, keeping him in this cage all the time.

I kept quiet about the Stark girls, who'd been sent to the Riverlands by ship for weeks. By agreement with the Young Wolf, my return of his sisters was kept between us and not advertised outside our homes. Later, when the war was over, I would extract the reward I wanted from the Starks, but for now it was just a nice bonus that would help me, if anything, to play the skilled and successful diplomat.

«I see," Doran replied, relaxing a little, again assuming a more relaxed and casual pose. - It's a very nice gift indeed. I never thought revenge for Elia would come into my hands. What do you want for it?

«The title of Lord Bannerman. That's all I want. - I answered, not trying to be coy. Everyone in Dorne was well aware that the position of Lord Vassal, with the current power and wealth of my house, was dragging me down a lot. With my new title, I could act much more freely in the political and economic arena of Westeros and finally make marriages worthy of my children, giving them and their descendants a firm footing under my feet.

In forty years of living in this world, I've never really gotten into the importance of titles and lineage in the local aristocracy. To me, the Daines, who had been in continuous lineage for ten thousand years, were not much different from a simple family of peasants who knew about their ancestors only from the stories of their fathers and grandfathers. But for the locals, it was one of the pillars of their culture, society, and the universe itself. I was well aware of the glances thrown at me by all the lords and knights, and the words they uttered, the most decent of which were "peddler", "peerless" and "upstart". And so it will continue until my death, and afterward until the death of my children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and many more generations. The Tyrells are the clearest proof of that. An ancient family that has served the Gardners for millennia and in time took the side of the victor, they are still considered unworthy of their place, despite the numerous marriages with other ancient houses of the Spaceland and the blood of Garth the Green-Handed flowing in their veins.

I did not want such a fate for my descendants. That's why I wanted to marry Lyon and Alaric to the daughters of noble families, whose kinship would shut envious mouths for a long time. And without the title of Lord Ensign, it was very difficult to do so.

«Hmmm... Expectedly. - Doran smiled with the edges of his lips, expecting such a request in advance. - I will grant you your wish, my friend, but you realize, as you did so many years ago when you were given the title, that you need a more formal reason. Capturing and delivering Clegane is a good reason, but it is a gift to the Martell family, and you need something that the other lords will not object to and that will benefit all of Dorne.

"Expected," I thought, sitting back in my seat and taking a sip from the half-empty cup. - "Though you're a bit of a liar, Doran. In present-day Dorne, only the recently deceased Varian could ever contradict you in any way."

The title of Lord Ensign itself is as different from that of Lord Vassal as a Kingsguard is from a mere knight. If a simple vassal simply rules his domain on behalf of the suzerain, has the right to conduct his own court and must obey every word of the superior bannermen, the Grandlord and the King (although the latter we have not obeyed for fifteen years), then the bannerman, in the eyes of others, is a real power. The right to a twice as large army, the right to create and accept vassal houses under his hand, the right to conclude agreements on the protection of guilds, the right to wage war independently, and finally - the right, if necessary, to send his lord as far and for as long as he has the strength, confidence and impudence. The Freys, who for generations had been spinning the opinions of their suzerain Tullys in one place and responding to them in kind, were a prime example of the latter.

So there are a lot of lords in the Seven Kingdoms - the last census taken by the Citadel eight years ago alone counted about five hundred of them. While there are barely three dozen families entitled to their own banner. Each Grandlord carefully selects the houses he decides to elevate to this title, often rejecting applicants despite their merits.

And it is not surprising - most of the banner clans have the greatest power and influence in their kingdoms and are often able to argue in this with the Great Houses. One need not even go far for examples - remember the now deceased Rhines and Ironwoods, who wanted to push their suzerains from the seats of grandlords.

That's why Doran couldn't just hand me the title. He wouldn't have been understood by the other lords. But he had no choice - he needed a stable and united Dorne on the eve of the turmoil that had already begun to grow in Westeros, and by refusing, he could offend one of his staunchest allies, who held vast sums of money, all the kingdom's naval forces, and a seventh of its army.

«In fact, I have an offer. - I said, surprising the brothers sitting next to me. - But before I say it, I must know something, my prince. What were you planning to do after Viserys' death and your failure to marry Princess Arianna to him?

Not a muscle on the Grandlord's face quivered, while Oberyn's eyes raced across his and my face very quickly, though he held his face. So he knew of his brother's plans.

«How do you know about this, Fel? - The second prince asked me nervously, watching my frozen brother with the corner of his eye. I was afraid that Nimeros would think that he had given me such important information out of drunkenness or old friendship.

«Simple logic and coincidence. - I answered, glancing at Doran, who looked interested in what I was saying. - Ever since the last Targaryens fled to Braavos, my men had been watching over them, responsible for distributing my investments in the Iron Bank. And one of them noticed a man with a small plaque in the shape of the Martell crest, who'd had several conversations with Willem Darry, the former Red Castle weapons master and tutor of dragonborns. When you add up the fact of this communication, Arianna still walking around as a maiden, and Dorne's neutrality in the war, your inaction becomes understandable. You wanted to marry Arianna to Viserys and, with his help, and the Dothraki army gained from Daenerys's marriage, conquer the Seven Kingdoms and take revenge on the Lannisters. But all plans went to waste after the hysterical king was "crowned" with molten gold.

The silence in the cabin was tense. Oberyn drank his wine nervously, glancing at his brother's frowning face as he folded his fingers and stared at them tensely. I was quietly savoring the grapes, drinking the marvelous emerald wine to which I had long been addicted. After all, there had never been anything like it on Earth, and this gimmick from the Summer Isles remained interesting and unusual to me even twenty years after I had tasted it.

«Well... - Doran began to speak, capturing Oberyn's and my attention at once. The further development of our relationship depended on what the Lord of Dorne would say now. If he agrees and tells me about his plans, I will join his inner circle and help him in everything, getting my own benefit in the process. If he refuses, I'll take the Fowler position. "We're here for you, but don't expect full support." - You're right. I did plan to marry Arianna to Viserys and use him to get rid of the Lannisters, but that plan failed.

«So what do you plan to do now? - I asked, setting the empty goblet on the nearest table.

«Viserys is dead. The Targaryen male line has broken on him. But his sister, Daenerys, is alive and has three living dragons. - Now, I don't like where Doran is going. - If she marries Quentin, it could very well repeat the history of Aegon the Conqueror, destroying one scarlet house in the process.

«Bad idea. A very bad idea. - Shaking my head slowly, I said. - Betting on the Targaryens would be one big folly.

«What makes you think that, Felix? - Oberyn asked, interested, while his brother glared at me, asking me to explain my position.

«There are several reasons, but I'll give you the most important. - I began, clasping my hands together. - First, in case you haven't forgotten, we were among those who supported Baratheon during the rebellion. Yes, it was to save Daenerys's nephews, but what the Beggar King had put into her head, raising her since she was a little girl, we don't know.

Judging by the wrinkled faces of the Martell brothers, they agreed with me on that one. Even in Westeros, the Mad King's son was known as his little copy, only without the Iron Throne and dozens of loyal vassals willing to follow him even into the Wildfire Abyss. What he could have said to a little impressionable girl who had no one but him was hard to imagine.

«Second, she is her father's daughter. - I continued, clenching my hands even tighter. - Yes, she has the reputation of being a smart and wise woman who managed to survive among the Dothraki without being enslaved by the Quartians, but remember Rhaegar. He too started out as a clever and kind monarch, the hope of the Seven Kingdoms, and ended up plunging them into a major civil war for the sake of a skirt. What his sister can do with three fire-breathing lizards at her back, I don't even want to imagine.

And if I remember about the raven from Jade City that flew in the other day, she may soon have a very strong army, thanks to the amateurishness of my eldest son. Oh, I'll whip him when he gets back. I gave him a simple task - to go to the Iron Bank, to participate on my behalf in the meeting of the Keepers of the Keys, to sail to Azabad, to take the promised people from the governor and come back. That's it! But he did stand out by funding the last Targaryen. I just hope it doesn't get out, or my house will be in a lot of trouble.

«Third, it's not certain she'll marry Prince Quentin. - I said, and seeing the slight confusion on the Martells' faces, I continued. - Daenerys is not some daughter of a mere lord who will obey the orders of the head of her family and marry the one he pointed to. No... She is the last child of Aerys II Targaryen, who considers herself the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. There is no one in this world who she believes is above her and would force herself to listen. She is unlikely to marry the son of a family that has already betrayed her house once before. And to be honest, Prince Doran, of your two sons, Tristan is the most handsome.

That last part is a gross understatement. The rumors floating around Dorne repeatedly emphasized the prince's unattractive exterior, for which he was awarded the not-so-pleasant nickname, Frog. Sturdily built, short-legged and stocky, with dark hair the color of tilled earth, he was a true son of Doran - cunning, clever, and calculating. But his high forehead, square jaw, broad nose, and crooked smile made Quentin not very attractive in the eyes of the female sex. And Doran was well aware of that.

«Fourth, even if we ignore her family's reputation, which would turn the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands away from her in a heartbeat, she's a foreigner. - I continued to pile on the arguments against the Mad King's latest offspring. - Though she was born on Dragonstone, she was raised and matured in Essos. The Lords will not accept someone who doesn't believe in their Gods, doesn't know their traditions, speaks their language with an accent, and hasn't been brewing since childhood in their cauldron of intrigue and conspiracy.

I could make many more arguments against an alliance with the Mother of Dragons, from the fact that the burden of a military campaign would fall on Dorne, to the fact that when she dies, whether by arrow, sword, dagger, or poison, there will be no one to control the dragons in her place. Even Aegon I, when he united the continent, had with him not only three mighty beasts, but also two fine riders, without whom the effectiveness of these flying flamethrowers drops by leaps and bounds. Proven more than once by the Dragon Dance. But for now, these four facts were enough.

«What do you suggest, Felix? - Doran asked me with a slightly furrowed brow, still pondering my words. - There's a reason why you recently mentioned a proposal that would allow me to give you the title of Lord Bannerman.

«An alliance with the North, my prince. - I voiced my idea and, before any objections could be raised, began to develop it. - An alliance with the Young Wolf would give us much and require little in return. The Starks hate the Lannisters as much as you and Oberyn do, and if we support them in the war, we will have no conflicts over old blood feuds or disputed territories.

«They're too far away. - Doran objected at once, picking up his knife and continuing to peel the fruit thrown in the middle. - They can't help us in a war, and neither can we help them.

«But they don't need to. - I objected. - Right now, the Northmen and Stormriders were at parity with the Prostor and the West, with the latter having a slight edge. But if you remember that the richest kingdom is a few days away, and now almost all of its army is under the walls of King's Landing... That opens up some very interesting prospects.

«Are you suggesting we sack the Sprawl and then join the Stark army and lay siege to King's Landing together? - The Lord of Dorne asked me with widened eyes.

«Not necessarily. - I shook my head slowly. - The key word here is plunder. Right now, King's Landing and the army guarding it are consuming an inordinate amount of food. If we ruin the Vale by cutting off their food supply, they'll starve to death before Stannis or the Young Wolf can kill them. And let's not forget winter's coming-- Dorne will need extra supplies, too.

«Not a bad idea, Fel. - Oberyn smiled slyly. - We can kill two birds with one arrow - starve the lions and feed and enrich our own.

«But it can be done without an alliance with the Starks. - Doran said, breaking off a slice of fruit and popping it into his mouth. - It's just that there will be four kingdoms in rebellion, not three.

«Stannis is the problem. - I remarked, tapping my finger on the table. - Baratheon is stubborn. Incredibly stubborn. And he won't accept the Seven Kingdoms becoming four or five, depending on whether Dorne declares its independence. In alliance with Robb Stark, we can negotiate with him from a position of strength and get the terms we want without a bloody war.

«Hmm... - It took Doran a few moments to consider my proposal and start asking more leading questions.

In the end, the discussion lasted several hours, during which time Clegane woke up and had to be ordered back to the hold. Everything was discussed - the detailed plan for the war in the Expanse, relations with the northern allies, distribution of future spoils, what to do about Myrcella Baratheon, who was visiting my castle, and her marriage to Tristan, and much, much more. In the end, with creaking and grinding, but the Grandlord of Dorne surrendered under my entreaties and my brother's prodding and agreed to the alliance proposal.

Yes, there were a few white spots, inaccuracies and risks in my plan, but one must not forget that Doran Martell is first and foremost a man of his time. Despite his rather venerable age, despite his constant confinement to chair and bed, despite his more intriguing way of doing things, his desires remained the same as most lords of Westeros.

To leave his name in the ages as the prince under whom Dorne had achieved such power that it had utterly ravaged and burned the Spaceland.

A very welcome and stirring entry in the history of the world. And when you add to that Oberyn's constant prodding of him to do so and the opportunity to exact revenge for his beloved sister, Doran simply had no objections left.

The next day, the ravens went to Riverrun, where the Young Wolf was now, according to the latest reports, and letters were sent to the other lords of Dorne, inviting them to a feast at Temper's Castle, the closest place to the army that had long ago begun to gather in the pass and the battle fleet.

Already in a week a reply came. A positive answer.

Robb Stark "Young Wolf of the North" agreed to our alliance and sent us three of his representatives to discuss and conclude a formal treaty. From that moment on, the war machine of Dorne, represented by the Martells and the Tempers, began to quickly prepare for war.

For soon the thirty-five thousand troops assembled in Prince's Pass were to march northward. There awaited them what all warriors dream of - glory, riches and death. freeweɓnovel.cøm

Many would not return home, left to lie breathless corpses on the expanse of the green kingdom, but they would forever leave a place in the history of the continent as those who destroyed the two Great Houses and destroyed the Iron Throne that had ruled the Seven Kingdoms for three hundred years.

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