Chapter 3 Hidden Things, Things of Value

Of the 4 rebellions that instantly hit my father at his ascension, Jonos "revolt" as it became known, was amongst the most ineffectual rebellions in Westerosi history. When Jonos and his small party reached the Gates of the Moon, they found waiting for them, 200 knights(37 from Ronnels personal service, one King's Guard and the rest landed knights who lived in the area), 700 levies from those who lived in the slopes beneath the Giant's Lance, and their king himself, mounted on Quicksilver, that most famed of Targaryen dragons.

It had been put down before it ever had the chance to begin, and thus, compared to the other 3, this revolt is rarely remembered except as the final fate of an obscure and childless member of House Arryn.

Needless to say, the party surrendered to the crown without a fight. The most surprising thing about the revolt, however, was the aftermath. Rather than sending the entire group to the wall, or have them hanged, Jonos Arryn alone was initially the only one sent north.

The rest of his noble companions was ransomed back to their families, literarily buying their lives for a royal pardon. Afterwards, they were allowed to live as free men, with the exception of The Eyrie and King's Landing, both of which they were forbidden to travel to under pain of death.

Thus, any hope they had of political careers were dead and gone. Some would go on to become knights of some renown, but most faded away into obscurity.

Not all was ransomed back, however. Some of the noble families were either unable to pay the ransom or flat out refused, and thus several of the traitors did join Lord Ronnel's brother on the wall.

The most famous end, however, was the incident between Lord Qarl Corbray and his brother Jon Corbray.

Like others, Qarl refused to pay the ransom. Unlike the rest, however, he had no wishes to see his treacherous and hated kin be spared and sent to the wall, and thus he would famously go the Eyrie, where he split his brother's skull open and cleaved him to the groin with Lady Forlorn.

This act would forever label him with the name Qarl the Kinslayer, but it impressed his king, who later appointed him as the first General Drillmaster of Westeros, responsible for the training of the first royal army.

Extract from "Dreams Made Manifest" by Alysanne Targaryen, First Master of the art of History.

---

Humfrey dismounted first, getting his feet on the ground and beginning to walk up to where Gargen had been strung up.

After dismounting, I quickly followed after. Quicksilver, mayhaps sensing that this place wasn't the safest, for once followed directly after me.

The massive dragon was hyper-alert, in stark contrast to her regular self. She really did not like this place.

And Erie it was.

Harrenhal was a testament to Westeros building capacity. Held up by what I could only assume was the unintentional sorcery of the blood sacrifice of all those who had died to build it, the fortress defied logic, even by all the impressive buildings of this world, Harrenhal stood out.

Usually, when something this large existed on planetos, there was some logical or obvious magical explanation.

The wall was magic, the Hightower was a mixture of a magical base, highly advanced internal structure, and good old masonry. Storms End was pure magic, the eyrie was impractical, but was relatively mundane as far as construction was concerned. Winterfell was just amazing construction and Casterly Rock was a hollowed-out mountain.

Harrenhal was different.

It was an insane construction.

90 meters tall walls, that was 20 meters thick. And to make it even more impressive, I also happen to know that to prevent anyone from simply tunneling and sapping them, the walls also went 30 more meters down below the ground. And the buildings. Dear god the buildings.

The taller towers were each taller than the big ben, and FAR wider. Each of them jutting up like some Westerosi version of Barad Dur.

Ugly, tall and twisted like the nightmares of the riverfolk, a blight upon the land, an eternal reminder of their occupiers, that just refused to go away.

Despite all of it, it was still just a regular styled castle though. Enormous in size, but there were no spectacular designs to make it stand out like Dragonstone had with its giant black dragons and countless other black grotesqueries.

Harrenhal simply looked like it was a castle constructed by and for giants. A castle that had also been left to be hammered by wear and age.

The towers, where stones had not fallen down, was still turned black from the dragon flame that had turned it to an oven half a century earlier.

It was the greatest castle ever raised by man.

And it was devoid of life of any kind.

No birds, no dogs, no cats, no rats, nothing I could hear or see motions of.

In this place, I knew with a certainty that evoked fear in me, for the first time since I came to Westeros. We were the only living things in this enormous courtyard. Here was nothing else living, than a king, a knight and a dragon.

Yet, I could also sense with a clear feeling that there was something else here. Something wrong. Something that hated, yet feared.

Humfrey, apparently not feeling any of it, cheerfully walked up to the man, and with one massive blow of his blade, he cleaved down the three spears Gargel was held up by.

With a thud, the naked man crashed backward on his back.

"Well, that's bloody Queer." Humfrey exclaimed after going up to the corpse to kneel so he could get a better look at the corpse.

"What is it?" I asked in a tone I really tried to make it sound like I wasn't nervous at all.

"He's not been eaten." He pointed to the eyes. "By neither bird nor maggots." He then pointed to the crotch.

"If carrion birds had gotten to enjoy him, he'd have lost his eyes. And just like the letter said, they killed him by gelding him. Yet there ain't any maggots in the wound. Bloody queer that is."

I bent down to get a better look as well. It really was a pain to look through a narrow visor. I resisted any and all instincts that suggested I pull up my visor for a better look though. I was not surrendering an inch of protection here.

Yes, a complete lack of maggots and the skin was milky white. Even his feet and hands followed that. Had they drained him completely for blood before stringing him up?

The way he looked so… Dead was just unsettling in its own right. The way carrion had just left him alone, mixed with the expression of a man who's life had slowly pumped out of him was more unsettling than it had any right to be.

It just looked way too clean for any real dead corpse. And it wasn't like they had actually cleaned him, the dried blood from his wound was still there. Yet there was a look to it like the thing hadn't rotted. At all.

"You supposed they lied about when they killed him? I mean, if they killed him almost a week ago, he should be way more… Rotting than this."

"No," I replied.

"This is Harrenahl. Weird shit happens here."

"Your Grace, I've been here dozens of times, seven hells, I had a puppeteering act here with a troop once. I've never seen anything like this before."

Oh right, this was the start of new houses coming to bad ends.

Well, just move and pretend I didn't know the general creepy future of this place.

"You did a puppet show here?" I asked, seizing upon the obvious distraction.

"Yeah." He turned his head and looked towards Harrenhal's main hall, the greatest in Westeros.

"It was just after Gargen's father became the first lord of Harrenhal. He held a massive tourney here, with melees, jousting shows, all the good old shit."

He sounded like every other old man I had ever heard in my life. Modern Amsterdam or medieval Westeros, it was the nature of age to wistfully look back at one's youth.

"And you did a puppet show there?"

He chuckled. "When I wasn't fighting in the melee aye. I earned a lot of coin that day. While I was busy fighting, somebody burned all my puppets though. Sad times."

"You couldn't just buy new ones?"

"Oh, no I could have bought all I lost twentyfold over with the coin I earned from the melee. But I took it as a sign it was time to get out of the puppet show business and take my knightly career seriously."

"So I traveled to the capital, bought some plate and joined your father's household as a common knight."

"Perfect timing that."

"Yes, it truly was. Would you believe I considered going west to Lannisport instead?"

"I'm rather glad you did not. We need more men of your skills Humfrey."

Well, that was true enough. I really did need more guys as good at killing my enemies as my king's guard was. And at the moment, I had none as terrifyingly skilled as Humfrey the mummer.

That more than anything was the reason he was here. I expected he would become a semi-permanent fixture of my saddle in the future. If so, I could do much worse.

"In any case, back to the matter at hand. I think we can safely assume Harren is not in Harrenhal."

I squinted westwards to the gatehouse. Then I turned east.

"And I think the bastard opened all the doors before they left. Clever dick."

"Your original plan won't work then your grace. What do we do then?"

I considered. My original plan was simple. Look which door they left through, then light the forest in that direction ablaze. If still wanted to use that tactic, I would need to burn all the forests around Harrenhal. Not practical, not to mention too long to fix.

I sighed. "We'll have to leave it to Tully. Have him call the banners and grant him leave to hunt him down. We do not have time to go on a massive and long drawn out hunt for a few hundred outlaws. Not with the islands in revolt."

I didn't really despise Harren the way I did the other Rebels. But he had declared and accepted imperium. That meant he had to die.

"So we'll stop at riverrun then after all?"

"Yes."

We'll now it was just putting Gargen to rest before we left.

"Did you know Gargen Humfrey?"

"No your Grace."

"From what I have heard he was quite the ass. Invoking the right of the first night, every single time there was a wedding in his lands."

"Wait. THAT'S how he became known as "the Guest"?"

"Aye. I don't think you'll find a less welcome guest anywhere in this land."

"Quite an understatement that."

"Aye. However, as repulsive as his actions were, they were not actually against the law. Quite on the contrary, they were well within them. That is something I shall need to rectify."

"Youll restrict the right of the first night?" The way he said it, casually like the right of the first night was just another regular thing in the world of feudalism, spoke more about how entrenched it was than anything else.

Well, I was going to have to break that entrenchment.

"Not at all, I intend to outlaw it completely."

Silence followed. From Humfrey and the world all around.

"That…. Is admirable, but… It will be hard I think. Lords care about the right of the First Night. A lot."

"They care about their lives more. As for difficulty, nothing in this world worth doing is easy."

"The Lords may bring their complaints. And if they rise? So much the better. Then I can make an example out of whoever rises."

Humfrey stared at me in silence.

"In any case, it's about time we move on. We have a long way ahead of us."

I motioned for quicksilver who in the blink of an eye turned Gargen Qoherys, the second lord of the short dynasty to ashes.

They were the first lords of Harrenhal, and the second dynasty to be wiped out here. I would very prefer that they be the last.

I had thought about it, and in the end, I settled on one Daeron, a dragonseed working under Lord Stokeworth, with a reputation for a good head on his shoulders.

Hopefully, he would do a better job of it.

---

Goren Greyjoy steered the great longship past the rocks and towards the beach.

The black beach.

He had been here before, many times, as it was one of the best landing spots on eastern great wyk.

It was a beautiful white beach, clean and without driftwood to clutter it. That also meant that other than as a landing spot, it wasn't used much.

He personally considered it one of the most beautiful spots in the land.

Now, it was black. Everything was black. The stones, the sand, the clumps of glass that littered the beach. And the corpses. So many corpses. Black and burned and cocked charred meat.

"By the storms..." One of his rowers exclaimed stunned.

There had to be thousands of dead here.

And as if to downplay the horror, by the side of the desecrated beach, was a small pavilion full of all the things the Greenlanders loved.

Well, he assumed so, he had only heard stories of such feasts.

There were distant singing and fire though, so it was something at least.

Above was a banner with many colors he couldn't really make out properly, but he recognized what was in the middle. Something that could only be the three-headed dragon of Aegon the conqueror.

Well, so he would get to greet the new dragon sooner than he would have liked it would seem. Not in a position of strength either.

That was a problem. He had planned to only travel to the capital after he had crushed The insane charlatan, and thus be in the position for a royal boon, but that seemed rather unlikely.

It became even more unlikely when a white shadow swooped over their ships.

---

"Greyjoy! You finally made it, come, take a seat."

The feast was both relatively large, though nowhere near large enough to accommodate his army, so he had sent them on ahead while he and his more important lords had gone to the feast.

Already seated was a bunch of septons, who kind of looked out of place there, mildly sipping of the wine though several had really dug into the meat. A weak and spineless lot those were. And their god as well. This was not the time to assert the drowned God's superiority though.

By the second leading seat, was Qarl Goodbrother, Lord of Great Wyk, obviously drunk in his cups with a huge stupid grin on his face.

The rest of the lords were all also drunk to varying degrees. This damned party had been going on for a while it would seem.

One man who was not drunk however was the king. Aenys looked far intimidating that Goren recalled him looking. He had once met him during a trip with his father to the capital.

He had been a gangly man, of impressive height, but with no width. Dressed in effeminate purple clothing, and far too many jewelry for any true man. A foppy beard and the dreamy look of a man with way too many thoughts in his head.

The man seated above him was nothing like that.

Clad in heavy plate armor, black like obsidian, with blood-red trimmings, he looked the way his father had always described the Hoares. On his head, a huge golden crown, engraved with dragon imagery.

He had grown the foppy beard into a more scraggly and worn look, which drastically changed the way he looked by just drawing away from the attention from his feminine cheeks and weak jawline.

But the most drastic change was his eyes. He had the same smile of old, but those eyes… Those were the dangerous kind. The kind that belonged to a man who would avenge himself on those who crossed him.

Aenys had changed it would seem.

And to add to that, up on a large boulder lay the dragon, outspread with her wings and looking down upon the feast. Her eyes were as cold as her master.

"Your grace." He gave a short bow of the head.

"Not to spoil your feast, but this is merely one half of the rebel force. The other half is in-" "Old Wyk, yes I am aware, lord Goodbrother informed me of as much." He motioned to the man, who raised his hand in a cheering motion, then fell forward over the table while snoring.

The king ignored him and continued.

"But we shall deal with that on the morrow when we sail to the old island with, fire and steel. Tonight we feast. Now come, sit and eat damn you."

He did indeed sit. As he seated himself on the kings other side, a servant bearing Goodbrother's colors immediately laid forth a couple of supple chicken legs before him, along with a tankard of ale.

"So… do forgive me for saying so your grace, but you seem to get here pretty fast. I sent the letter to the capital one day ago."

"That so? Well, I appreciate the effort, but I already knew about this little revolt before it began. Quite a lot of fools think that now that my father is gone, it is time to rebel against the crown, as if my father was king because he was Aegon as opposed to, you know..."

He pointed with his thumb behind him.

"Because he had dragons."

Aye, his father had hammered that logic into him from his boyhood. You could not beat dragons. Unless you had a desert, and he was up short on those.

"Quite the fools."

So, this wasn't the only revolt then? Interesting.

"So, who else has chosen to tangle with fire made flesh?"

"Well, the first was a lordling from the vale. He showed up at the gates of the moon with 50 men to launch a coup and declare independence."

"Quite a genius that one."

"Yes, it was really funny to see how his little group stuttered into submission when he saw the party I had prepared for him."

"Other than him, there is some dornish bandit lord with delusions of grandeur and Harren's bastard running around in the Riverlands. And just for originality, he is also called Harren.

So the son of a saltson then.

"I cannot see they doing much better than Lodos did."

"Well, to give Harren his due, he has so far managed to infiltrate the greatest castle in the world and chopped the balls of it's lord."

He almost choked on the ale, but he managed to stifle the laugh. So it seemed the Saltson was the real deal then. That was quite the hilarious tale. Still, the point remained. Dragons.

"Mayhaps so, but it won't continue."

"I certainly intend for that to be the case, aye."

Then the king's voice completely changed to lighthearted and jovial.

"In any case, I did not throw this welcoming party just to have a good time my Lord paramount of the Iron Islands. We also have some business to discuss."

The change was so sudden and drastic that Goren turned just to make sure that it was in fact still Aenys sitting there.

And it was. The imperious look was gone, replaced by a jovial and calm expression. The fuck?

"...What kind of business? You have more in mind than just crushing Lodos I'm guessing."

"Indeed." The king took a small sip of his ale before continued.

"Firstly, I need to tell you that we will be at war in 2-3 years' time, and there are preparations we need to make for that."

Ah, War. That was something he understood.

"So you want us to prepare swords and warships then?"

"No, I want you to begin building 2000 fishing boats, and begin to gather 1200 men who can be spared from the islands."

Okay, that was…. New.

"You want me to train and arm twelve-hundred men?"

That was not a small number of soldiers. The iron islands could gather around 8000 or so. 1200 was almost one-third of that number.

And then there were the fishing boats.

"No, I will take care of the training and arming. You simply need to provide the manpower."

Then he continued in the same cheerful tone.

"You see my lord, I am planning on embarking on a war that will likely last over a decade. And for obvious reasons a standard levy will not do for the purpose.

"I… See. So another war with Dorne then?"

"Fuck no. I have no plans of EVER setting foot in that quagmire thank you very much. The Dornish can fuck off. It's a hot, worthless, empty land that would need decades of work to turn its deserts into green fields. I have other, better projects to spend my time on."

He didn't see how you could possibly turn a desert into farmland, but whatever.

"Where will we go then? If not Dorne?"

"The stepstones."

Ah, yes, that old story. More than one ironborn King had tried to conquer them. They had all failed. Ignoring the damned pirates, the powers of essos always ganged up on anyone who tried to take the stepstones. But if the king wanted to throw away peasant lives, who was he to stop him?

And as a bonus, they would get to raid whoever choose to go to war with the king. Good times all around.

"So, you need 1200 men to conquer the stepstones? Alright, I can get that many together."

What a wonderful opportunity to get rid of unwanted dregs and saltsons. At least if he didn't have to waste money to arm them.

"Also, this goes without saying, but I only want men between 16 and 22. Their service contract will be of 16 years of military service, then they shall be awarded a farm and a plot of land."

"On the mainland?"

The king chuckled.

"As opposed to where? Here? The islands have the worst farmland there is. God knows I'll have to work hard to make this place bloom. But that is for another day. For now, I also need to note that in addition to 1200 soldiers, I'll also need 30 men to serve as officers."

"And 2000 fishing boats? I don't have enough wood for that. Or coin."

"I'm well aware. You will be compensated by it by the crown, and you'll be supplied wood for it at seagard. I have already made the arrangements with Lord Tully."

"I see. Will you require fishermen as well? That many boats are worthless without enough men to use them after all."

"I'll need some to teach away the art of fishing, but other than that I will produce the fishers myself."

"However, the conquest of the stepstones is far from the only thing I wish to talk to you about. For one, I am currently looking for a bride for my son Viserys. And as such I must inquire, is your daughter still unmarried?"

Everything in that moment stopped.

"Goren? You okay?"

He forced himself back to reality.

"No. She… Is not."

Shit, shit, shit.

"I see, well that is a pity."

Suddenly he had a burning, seething madness to sail back home and strangle his recent son in law.

"In that case, we can move on to other affairs. I have an office for you if you are interested.

They kept chatting for hours afterward, but nothing they chatted about came close to making up for a lost royal marriage.

Had he just told that Harlaw boy to piss off like his wife had told him to, he would have been in a prime position to make his grandson king.

---

Goren was pissed.

He was simmering pissed instead of burning pissed, but he supposed he should tread carefully. But then, that had never been his style.

"So Goren, how did the chat with the king go?" He asked cheerfully.

Goren sat down by the rock across from him and for a moment he didn't speak at all, then he took a deep breath and finally began talking.

"Not… Bad. Not bad at all."

"Then why are you so bloody tense? You look like you'd crush stones with your arse through pure rage."

The Kraken snapped.

"That's none of your fucking business Blacktyde."

He grinned.

"If you say so, my Lord. So what good stuff DID the dragon tell ya?"

"We'll be at war with some of the free cities in a few years."

"Truly? That's great! Which ones?"

"He ain't sure, but Braavos will be on the list at the very least."

Better and better.

Aegon had not tolerated their reaving the free cities. But if there was war… Well, that would mean ships that were usually off-limits would be free to plunder. And none were richer than Braavos.

"There's bad news as well though. That limited amount of longships Aegon forced on us? That's expanded.

"Please tell me that was a jest."

"No, Aenys is planning on replacing all previous ships with a new kind of vessel. Not just longships, galleys, galleons cogs. All will be replaced with a new design, one that's much faster and more reliable than anything before it."

"Truly?"

"Don't get your hopes up. It's an… Interesting design, but I'll believe the design works when I see it sail. In any case, we're operating under the old system until the king has finished this "Wunderboat".

"So we keep ignoring the ban entirely, and keep making more unaccounted for ships?"

"Yes."

---

It was a fine spring morning. One he really resented having to spend out hunting outlaws.

He had not liked Gargen Qoherys. None of the lords of the Riverlands had. He was a fool and unpleasant as sin, but he was one of Prenty's subjects. And by the warrior, he would avenge him.

Now he just had to find his killers.

He had gathered a host of a 1000 knights from all over the Riverlands. It should be more than enough to crush any force the arrogant upstart had. And what an arrogant upstart he was.

He claimed the title of king, which was arrogant enough. But he had the nerve to style himself as the logical successor to Benedict Justman, the greatest of the River Kings.

They had one thing in common. They were both bastards.

Benedict had started out as a natural son between the Brackens and Blackwoods and had the blood of two royal families in his veins. He had gathered to his side, knights and smallfolk alike to drive out foreign invaders and make the trident whole.

This swine was at best a bastard grandson of Harren the Black, the greatest tyrant the Riverlands had ever seen, a name that still lived on as the symbol darkest hour the Riverlands had ever seen.

Just as it seemed eternal subjugation under the Ironborn was at hand, Aegon had landed, and had liberated the entire kingdom.

And here this brat was, an ironborn reaver who had the gall to claim he was one of them while claiming to be the true successor to the house of Justman and calling Aenys, Aegon's trueborn son as a false pretender to the crown of rivers and hills.

Well. House Tully was not one to forget it's duty, and his was clear enough. Hang Harren "The Red from a gibbet and make sure everyone who followed him would dangle from the trees.

And he would. Once he managed to find the bastards.

---

The wall was tall, strong, sturdy and very well guarded. If one were to climb up the outer walls of Blackhaven, it would practically be impossible to get up without being seen even in the dead of night.

The inner walls of the castle itself, however…

She had climbed up in the middle of a moonless night and had not been spotted by any of the patrols.

If she had been forced to break open the window shutters, the chances of discovery would have jumped up immensely. Either through the sound of breaking through fast, or the drastically higher chance of being spotted if she did it slowly.

The art of burglary and entering into places unseen was all about weighing risks. There was never a guarantee that you would not be spotted. You could only weigh the risks and act accordingly.

In this case, however, she had had a great help. The occupant of the room she was visiting.

Queen Visenya wasn't there when she entered, but she had left the shudders unlocked as she promised.

Now she just to wait.

That was also a part of this job. Waiting.

The queen finally made her appearance after several boring, numbing hours.

The old warrior was dressed as she usually was. In plate and scale armor. Why the dragons didn't just dress in full plate she did not know. Nor ask.

After Visenya had closed the door securely behind her and closed the bar she finally spoke.

"Report."

"We have discovered the nature of Aenys ploy with Tarth. He intends to remove Maegor for the foreseeable future through a scheme to fight the Dothraki for coin given to the Iron Throne."

Visenya's face hardened.

"Clever. Maegor would be interested in such a scheme."

"There is more. We have also discovered that Aenys is very eager to gain recognition from the free cities for the crown's claim to the Stepstones. The deal is also about that."

"So, that's where the war will be then."

The queen sat down on the bed and put her hand under her chin in what she liked to think of as a royal thinking pose. The queen looked far more regal than her father had with that pose anyhow.

"We'll need to move up the timeline then. Maegor must marry his second wife now before Aenys can send him away. We need to begin destabilizing his reign early before it can truly solidify after these rebellions."

"As you say, mistress."

"As for you, you are to infiltrate the camp of the "Vulture King."

"Aenys has at least one informant there. Someone not inside Aegon's Spy network. Locate whoever this is if you can. Make yourself scarce before the host reaches here, then get relocate to Dragonstone to await further orders."

"Understood mistress."

It was a long annoying journey, after that, but she would not complain. The dragon paid richly for all her services.

Really, it was no different from the petty power struggles back in essos. The westerosi liked to pretend their inherited ancient Noble titles made them better than the east, but when you came down to it, it was the same smell everywhere. Blood, cloak, and daggers.

Those were what truly ruled the world.

---

Aenys was a meritocratic and opehanded king famed for his generosity. He granted many a lordly title in his years, and many of the houses we see today originates from his reign.

Yet, none rose nearly as far as the Crossbow commander Bronn Higharrow.

And to this day, none are sure as to why this man, out the hundreds of lowborn commanders Aenys had, rose so high. While an outstanding officer, Bronn was not remarked as moreso than others of his peers, nor is there any record that the king had a personal friendship with him, as they almost never spoke. At least not before he became Lord.

Yet it is a confirmed fact that upon being granted his lordly title, Bronn was also presented with a lordly sigil, the famous flaming arrow on grey, designed personally by the king himself, which says that he must have planned it in advance for some time.

Needless to say, he accepted the design without complaint.

Extract from "Unlikely Heroes" By Lena Fowl. Historian.