POV: Ronan;
Barrowton.
About a day after a Warden recalled the presence of twelve mbers of a secret council...
Ronan had been returning from Braavos for over a year.
As soon as he returned, Lord Helman Tallhart himself appointed him the new Master Accountant of Torrhen's Square.
Not only was he invested in that position, but he had also been invited to take part as a permanent mber of a secret council.
He, along with Ser Qyburn, Lord Helman, Lord Leobald, and Lord Duncan, was the mber of the inner council of House Tallhart.
His House, to which he had sworn eternal allegiance, had invested him with honor and privilege he could never have imagined achieving. He had only just turned eighteen, and already he had reached such heights.
Not only did he get the job... but soon he would be the Director-General of another institution...
an institution that could beco the most powerful in Westeros.
Ronan did not want to fail the expectations and trust that his masters... no, that his 'family' placed in him.
He would give his best effort every day, until the end of his days.
This was the only way he could repay House Tallhart for all they had given him, Peter and Brywen.
Although his brother Peter had been promoted from Divisional Commander to Vice-General a few months ago, it was Ronan who received the higher salary than he and Brywen...
Even when added together, Ronan still received a salary four tis higher than the total salaries of those two...
And that was just the base salary which did not include production bonuses.
Ronan was inside the work office of Lady Barbrey Dustin, his future boss and majority owner of 'Never Winter Bank'.
Ronan and Lady Dustin would work closely together in the future.
Currently, Lady Barbrey was focused on answering questions from her assistant 'Wylla Snow'. Ronan knew the true identity of the seventeen-year-old girl, but even in safe and secure places, he addressed her by her false na. One could never be too sure.
Ronan found the girl attractive, sweet, brilliant, and gifted in her subject...
Several tis Ronan had spent whole afternoons helping the young girl with her studies and assignnts.
Although Ronan tried hard not to be distracted from his task, the maiden was a real challenge against his iron will.
"No Tysha! I want that cook from Qarth in the service of that spice rchant! No matter the price, he must be the master chef in charge of the wedding feast! Pays the amount he demands.
Westeros's ladies will have to dream about this wedding for decades.
I've decided on the prizes for the tournant.
30,000 golden dragons to the winner of the joust.
15,000 golden dragons to the second.
10,000 golden dragons to the first place in the lee and archery.
Half of the prize to the runners-up.
I tell you for the second ti, my dear.
This is not only a wedding but our debut to the whole world.
Not only will we inaugurate the opening of the Bank, but it will also be the tournant where all of Westeros celebrates victory over the Greyjoy rebellion! Everything will have to be perfect." Lady Barbrey.
"Yes, my lady! I will request additional funds from the master treasurer imdiately." Tysha.
"Well...
And for my groom's gown? Have we heard from that rchant in Sothoryus?" Barbrey.
"Emm...My Lady, we tried to offer five thousand golden dragons for the skin of that Bear of the Basilisk Isles...but he keeps stalling by extolling the rarity of that one-of-a-kind skin." Tysha.
"We're already offering him three tis the market price of the Basilisk skin...
Raise the price to 6,000... Should he still stall, give Ser Breston the order to kidnap his family, both his young wife and all three children. Then offer him a tenth of that bid. That's all for now, Tysha." Barbrey.
"... Yes, my Lady." Tysha imdiately prepared to carry out the tasks given to her.
"Master Ronan, my Lady." Said Tysha bowing as she left the room.
"Lady Wylla," Ronan replied extending his greetings.
After a few seconds, Lady Barbrey finished the letter she was focused on writing and turned her attention to the boy in front of her.
"You may as well call her by her real na inside these rooms, Ronan... Do you happen to doubt the security asures of this place?" Barbrey asked.
"No, my Lady.
It was not out of a lack of trust in Barrowhall, but only out of habit.
Every secret I keep is worth more than all the gold in Westeros, Lady Dustin." Ronan.
"Mmm... You like her don't you?
Don't look at like that...you're good at hiding it Ronan, but not so good for my intuition." Barbrey.
"... I find Lady Wylla a person of many qualities.
Her beauty, kindness, and care in her work, are among the most praiseworthy, Lady Barbrey." Admitted Ronan in a slightly more surrendered and emotional tone.
"... In any case you will have to wait, Ronan. The girl has not yet recovered from her trauma...
Do not burden my assistant with burdens she is not yet ready to bear." Barbrey.
"Yes, my Lady. I would not dare harm Lady Wylla." Ronan.
"Well...
Let's get down to business, my dear.
Have you estimated the expenses of this wedding yet, 'Wizard of Numbers'?" Lady Dustin.
"The information in my possession is not sufficient to tell the correct approximate figure, my Lady.
There are still many factors unknown to .
Just based on this eting, if that rchant were to still 'stall' on negotiations, I would say 211.838 golden dragons, 5 silver moons, and 4 silver stags, Lady Barbrey." Lady Brabrey quickly eyeballed a sum drawn on her cards and smiled imdiately afterward.
"... Not bad, lad.
Is it thanks to that technique Ser Qyburn wanted to learn as well, that you can rember everything?" Barbrey asked, intrigued by her future collaborator's abilities.
"The [ntal Tower] is a very useful technique, my lady.
It helps to properly store all the information I wish to rember.
I'm sure you could master it to a high standard yourself.
I am still immature and inexperienced compared to Ser Qyburn.
The knowledge and information stored by the maester surpasses my imagination, my Lady." Ronan.
"... I shall begin to practise then.
I cannot let you two leave too far behind.
You're leaving for Torrhen's Square tomorrow, aren't you?" Barbrey.
"Yes, my Lady. I will leave at first light." Ronan.
"Well...
Since you rember everything, my boy, go to that 'Bloody Demon' you serve and give him this verbal ssage from :
[ I want my Crown back Bastard!
Give back my Crown of love and beauty as soon as possible.
I also want the head of that slimy traitorous herald in my forr employ that you are hiding! And I demand the filthy hand of that devious and treacherous Blade of Frost who dared to take my seal to write those ssages.
I DEMAND, that all correspondence you have written to Jorah in my na, be delivered to at once!!!]... Every exact word, Ronan.
Do I make myself clear?" Lady Barbrey asked with a sweet smile.
"... Yes, my Lady." Ronan.
"Ah,... How careless of !
Deliver this letter to him as well if you don't mind, my dear Ronan."
End POV.
---------------------
POV: Gerion Lannister.
Casterly Rock.
So nine days after a master accountant departed Barrowton...
Gerion had just entered the castle that had belonged to his family for a hundred generations.
About six hours ago, the newly refurbished Fleet of 76 ships, all adorned with red and gold sails, had docked at the port of Lannisport.
A jubilant crowd was ready to welco him to honor and celebrate the victorious Admiral of House Lannister.
He who had avenged and repaid the insult to the Protectors of the West.
Gerion wasted no ti and rode at full speed to reach Casterly Rock as soon as possible.
His brother Tywin would not justify delays, and he knew it.
It had already taken him a long ti to return ho. Both because of the wait for the production of the new sails and the repair work on over twenty ships, and because of the 'ssage' he had helped leave with Balon Greyjoy.
It took over two weeks to move the entire fleet to Lannisport by making those slight diversions.
The man continued to walk the corridors and stairs of Casterly Rock at a brisk pace.
He didn't even have ti to say hello to his commoner lover, Briony, or his sweet one-year-old natural daughter, Joy Hill.
About ten minutes' walk later...
Gerion opened the doors to Tywin's council chamber and office.
A score of pairs of eyes scrutinized the intruder who had interrupted the eting.
Lord Tywin's eyes stood out the most.
"All of you, out.
You too, Kevan." Tywin ordered in a cold, authoritative tone.
Eighteen people, including Ser Gregor Clegane and Kevan Lannister, quickly rose to their feet, promptly obeying their Lord's command.
None dared speak a word to Gerion. Kevan, however, peered at his younger brother for a mont, giving him a warm smile but with one of his eyes sad and concerned for his brother's fate.
That brotherly look conveyed the ssage:
[ I am glad that you have returned safely.].
Gerion returned the smile and nodded slightly.
"Sit." Tywin.
"Yes, my Lord." Gerion did as requested as the doors to the halls were closed again.
His brother rose from his red-lined, gold-plated throne.
Tywin had noticed his younger brother's fatigued and thirsty state.
He served him a cup of ice water, which Gerion did not refuse.
After a few sips and breaths, Tywin broke the silence.
"What took you so long to co back?"
"... On the way, we left a ssage for 'King Balon'.
A ssage you would approve of, my Lord. The remaining excess ti was used to repair so ships and change sails." Gerion.
"We will discuss the details of the 'ssage' at another ti...
You disobeyed ." Tywin walked over to the balcony to direct his gaze towards the port of Lannisport.
From that distance and height, it was possible to see all 76 sails in or around the harbor.
"I have done so, my Lord. My n are not to bla for this, they rely obeyed my orders.
I take full responsibility." Gerion.
"... And in doing so you also justified yourself by writing that 'A Lannister always pays his debts.'
You used words that 'I' created decades ago for this House." Tywin.
"Yes, my lord." Gerion.
A minute of total silence passed... then Tywin continued.
"A week ago, while you were rrily sailing the seas, an invitation ca to us.
An invitation to a wedding by Lady Barbrey Dustin...
It seems she's organized a tournant as well.
A tournant with big prizes. The woman is using her marriage to Lord Jorah Mormont to celebrate King Robert's future victory--
She anticipated . I wanted the tournant to be held at Lannisport.
Did you know about this wedding?" Tywin.
"... Yes, Leobald had told about it, but I knew nothing about the prizes or other plans." Gerion.
"... Mpfh... There's the hand of that ' Bloody Snow' behind it, I can sll it from here...
You should have noticed." Tywin.
"... I'm sorry, my Lord, I've failed you again." Gerion.
"You will be punished for your insubordination, Gerion.
For one year from this day, you may not leave your quarters or leave the castle. You will only be allowed to do so to fulfill your duties as castellan when Kevan and I travel to Lannisport with our militia.
Any necessities appropriate to your rank will still be offered to you.
You may even receive visits from your mistress and daughter, but nothing more.
Do I make myself clear?" Tywin ordered, asking for confirmation.
"Yes, my Lord. Thank you for your leniency...
If I may, Lord Tywin, I would like to venture an unsolicited piece of advice.
Advice that I believe will benefit our House." Gerion.
"... Speak." Tywin.
"Since I will not be able to attend that tournant for obvious reasons, I would like you to send Tyrion to the celebration of those nuptials in the future as well.
I am convinced that he and Leobald's nephew could forge a good relationship.
A relationship that will further solidify the union between House Lannister and House Tallhart, my Lord." Explained Gerion in a humble but convinced tone.
Tywin seed slightly annoyed by the proposal but did not show it with words. The man simply, after a few seconds of absolute silence, replied:
"I will take your 'advice' into consideration..." Tywin said in a slightly listless tone.
"Thank you, my Lord.
If that is all, I am preparing to follow your instructions and face the consequences of my choices, my Lord." Said Gerion politely rising from his chair.
The man knew his brother well enough to know when a conversation with him was coming to an end. He didn't want to take any more of the Westeros Protector's ti; a war still had to be won.
To his surprise, Tywin thundered:
"What do you want?"
"... What do I want? I don't... " Gerion was interrupted.
"Don't play unnecessary gas with , Gerion.
Do you want to waste my ti singing your praises?
You may have disobeyed one of my orders, but you have brought great benefits to House Lannister...
So I'm going to ask you one last ti:
What is it you want?" Tywin.
Gerion pondered carefully at the words he wanted to say.
"... I...
I would like Joy to be legitimized and also bear the Lannister na instead of Hill... " Gerion ventured, thinking of his beloved daughter.
Tywin turned his head for a mont to stare at his younger brother's determined gaze, then turning his attention back to the port.
Tywin replied simply:
"It shall be done."
End POV.
------------
POV: Captain Drymak;
About thirty miles off the coast of Pyke.
Three days before 76 ships arrived at Lannisport...
The Captain of the ship ''Sharp Waves'', one of the finest longships in the service of House Greyjoy that was tasked with monitoring the shores of Pyke, approached along with 20 other Iron Fleet ships at the cloud of gulls surrounding a dozen stranded and seemingly abandoned ships...
Drymark, one of the most trusted and respected n in House Greyjoy, was at the head and command of that small fleet.
When his ship reached a distance of fewer than 400 feet from their target, Drymark understood what those ships were and where they ca from...
It was a disturbing sight he had never witnessed...
Dozens of bodies hung from the masts of all thirteen ships... Hundreds of shiny red heads stuck on a spike or spike, adorning every inch of the piers... both fore and aft...
The tension was sky-high. Drymark noticed the terror in the eyes of so of his crew as they in turn realized the macabre sight...
'Those belong to House Drumm... Lord Denys has been defeated?
Wait, that ship's different from the others... Red and white. Three masts, a snowflake? What banner is that?' Drymark thought as he didn't recognize the symbol stamped on a sail of the largest of the longships.
"Head for that ship, we must board it!" Ordered the Captain.
"... Y... Yes, Captain." The helmsman replied hesitantly.
The closer the ships ca, the greater the effect of that terror.
A couple of the younger, more inexperienced crew mbers openly gagged, unable to contain their gag reflex.
Now the view was clear...
At least a thousand, if not two thousand, bodies were piled on these ships. Hundreds of seagulls were happily feasting on their booty, battering the remains of those iron n...
About five minutes later...
Drymark and a dozen of his crewn boarded the main flagship of that fleet laden with the dead...
Now the ssage their enemy wanted to send to their king was clear. Every head or face of that thousand corpses was stained with blood. On the head was gold... not a dye, but real gold...
The ntal patient who had co up with this idea had poured molten gold over the flesh of those heads.
Each spot of gold had the rough shape of a lion... And that wasn't all.
House Lannister... No. 'The Smiling Lion'... ' Drymark thought as he noticed that each red and gold head was stamped with a smile.
Each corpse smiled in an unnatural and forced way...
It was a nightmarish sight.
"CAPTAIN HERE'S A CHEST!!" Roared one of his most loyal petty officers.
Drymark approached the voice.
Now he too noticed the vacant space not littered with corpses that marked a path to the ship's helm.
Drymark peered at the white wooden chest with the sa symbol as the mainsail engraved on it.
'Three white masts... no, three white mast-dykes outlined in red... blood... joining a completely red snowflake... red snow... Bloody Snow!' Drymark thought as he connected the dots of the clues.
"There was this one too, Captain." Said the man showing a letter to his superior.
A letter with the following written on it:
[To King Balon Greyjoy.]
About a day later...
Drymark was inside the King's hall.
Only he and Balon Greyjoy were present inside the hall.
The Captain had already made sure that there was nothing dangerous inside the chest that could harm his King.
Balon first opened it and read aloud the contents of the ssage.
"The Price of Blood..."
Then Balon opened the strange chest that was placed on the table.
Inside it, there was snow.
Snow was almost as thick as a sheet of ice.
The snow was red... and in the middle of it, rested a single, shiny gold coin... also stained with blood.
End POV.
------------------------------------------
POV: A maiden of the North.
Bear Island.
About five days after a King opened a chest...
Dacey Mormont was with her mother at the docks.
Her cousin, Jorah, was about to set sail with the reborn fleet of House Mormont.
Four hundred warriors in the service of their House were leaving with their Lord to answer the call of the Warden of the North.
Soon the fleet and the northern army would march to join King Robert's forces at Lannisport.
Jorah had already said goodbye to his younger cousins, only his Aunt and young Dacey remained.
"Take care Dacey, help your mother defend our Island.
Aunty, I leave you in charge. Please welco our guests from Dorne on my behalf as well." Said Jorah kissing his Aunt's head and stroking young Dacey's head.
"Don't worry, nephew.
I don't think the iron n will attack us again during your absence. You just think about getting back alive." Maege.
"Cousin!...emm I wish you luck.
Try to protect... yes in short try to help Lord Duncan during the battle... and co back both of you alive and well!" Said Dacey trying to convey her concerns.
"Ahah! Yes, Dacey... I do believe your betrothed will be the one to protect on those islands.
I must go now.
'Here we stand'!" Jorah.
"Here we stand!" Maege, Dacey, and her two sisters echoed the motto of House Mormont in unison.
About an hour later...
Dacey watched in the distance as the last ships left the harbor.
She was left alone on the edge of that wooden dock.
The girl kept reciting within herself the words contained in that letter.
A letter she always carried with her...
She no longer needed to read it. Every word was burned into her head.
Dacey muttered for the umpteenth ti the phrase she liked to repeat most of all...
"... You are mine and I am yours..."
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