[Chapter Size: 3800 Words.]
Third Person POV.
King's Landing.
...
...
It was the second time Daemon officially used the council chamber as king, while all of his commanders, limited to them alone, gathered with him.
"Here is everything we need," Daemon said, placing papers in front of each of them with the requests he demanded.
He needed food, grain, water, barrels of wine, salt to preserve meat, supply wagons, pack horses, wood, coal, oil, ropes, tents, blankets, leather, furs, cloaks, iron, steel, dragonglass, and every kind of resource that could be immediately requested for the capital and then sent North.
But what he wanted most in all of that was manpower. He needed at least two to five thousand blacksmiths to keep forges running day and night, producing weapons, armor, arrows, spears, and tools for war. He also needed carpenters, stonemasons, lumberjacks, and miners to reinforce castles, repair the Wall, build shelters, and keep roads and camps functioning during the winter.
In addition, women and seamstresses capable of producing clothing suitable for the North's extreme temperatures would be necessary, since winter was finally arriving. They would need to make heavy cloaks, gloves, boots, blankets, and fur garments for tens of thousands of men.
He also wanted healers, maesters, hunters, fishermen, archers, and men experienced in surviving the cold. The greatest problem in that war would not only be the dead, but also the climate, the ice, and the constant strain of a gigantic army living at the edge of the world while fighting an army of the dead.
It would not be given for free, obviously. Daemon would pay every man and woman for the work provided, using the Crown's treasury and the resources conquered in war to sustain the North's preparations.
He would also demand that the noble houses reduce taxes in the future to compensate for the burden that would fall upon the people during that period of mobilization. After all, there had already been too much suffering spread across the realms after years of war.
At the same time, he expected all the kingdoms to contribute to the coming war, not only with soldiers, but also with resources, workers, and supplies. The conflict against the dead would not be a war of a single kingdom, but of all Westeros.
Daemon also saw in that mobilization an opportunity to help thousands of families destroyed by war. Many women had lost husbands, fathers, and sons in the recent conflicts, leaving them without protection or means of support. Because of this, he intended to offer paid work for seamstresses, healers, cooks, and artisans, producing winter clothing, tents, blankets, and other items necessary for the Northern army.
In that way, besides strengthening preparations for the Long Night, he would also prevent part of the people from starving during the approaching winter.
"My king, after what happened, you cannot possibly expect Dorne and the Reach to cooperate with this. I doubt they will comply, especially the Reach, with more resources than any other kingdom," Stannis could not help but ask in a dry tone from a corner. But it was a very valid point.
"That problem will be resolved in the coming days, Lord Baratheon. For now, I want to organize all the forces and our objectives here. I will be leaving after everything is ready and after I finally finish our meeting and the restructuring of the court. I already intend to pass something on to all of you before that, which is why we are having this meeting, but I'll say in advance that I will have to fly with my dragons for one or two days."
"And what do you intend to do, Your Majesty, if I may ask?" Lord Tully asked.
"I still want to retrieve Lady Myrcella, who is in Dorne. I already confirmed her location. She never left the capital, but they are keeping her as a valuable hostage, while they still do not know what happened in the capital yet. It has only been four or five days. The ravens have not reached Dorne yet," Daemon commented.
After all, it took about a week for a raven to travel there.
"They intend to use her?" Lord Stark seemed worried, especially after Daemon massacred House Martell.
"Yes, but do not worry. I will deal with those fools," Daemon simply replied with a shrug, while Ned Stark became a little more cautious.
"Well, in any case, I intend to request this from all the kingdoms. I would prefer that you yourselves formally send letters to all the realms you possess, ordering them to send everything to the capital. King's Landing will send everything North to prepare all the troops. I do not know how much I will have to send back for them to return to their kingdoms, but even so, I still want at least two hundred thousand men at the Wall to fight the dead."
"Two hundred thousand?" Lord Stark asked, looking thoughtful.
"I think that is an excellent number to deal with the war against the dead. I already prepared some traps for the war with the Lord Commander a few days ago when I visited the Wall, and there is Odahviing, who is acting as its current guardian," Daemon pointed out, handing some letters from both the Lord Commander and Benjen to his brother, while also discussing his plans with the king.
Daemon looked at Mance, who seemed thoughtful.
"I do not want most of the men returning to the Wall to be from the free folk. Currently, there are more than one hundred and twenty thousand free folk outside the capital in the great camp, but I did not want to use all of them to make up the two hundred thousand," Daemon said.
It would be somewhat unfair now that he had conquered the kingdoms. In the same way, there were still more than one hundred and thirty thousand soldiers from Westeros.
"The free folk will not stay idle, even if you give them rest. They will want to fight in the war as well," Mance said.
"Well then, let us reorganize the two hundred thousand soldiers..." Daemon said.
It would be better for the free folk than for the men of Westeros. After all, they were far more accustomed to the cold than the southerners. Even if they still did not possess the coordination of an army trained for decades, as was easier to find in the Seven Kingdoms, they had improved greatly over the last few years with Daemon's training beyond the Wall, transforming a band of men who fought individually and awkwardly into something far more decent.
"Lord Baratheon, I want you to go to Dragonstone and organize the entire extraction of dragonglass from the mines. You may take people from King's Landing by offering them coin, the Crown will cover it for now, but I am already warning you that I will have to charge the kingdoms later. Afterward, you may leave Ser Davos in charge, if you trust him enough for that," he said, while Stannis looked like he wanted to say something.
"I know you want to go to Storm's End and organize your entire kingdom. You will be free after doing what must be done at Dragonstone, and you may take the reins of your house as well and remain there for a few moons while all the kingdoms prepare to head North. Also, I intend to go North now that things have calmed down a little, and I will perform the surgery on your daughter," he said.
Stannis merely nodded, although he looked quite satisfied. As a man who had governed Dragonstone for nearly two decades, he would be suitable for leading men there.
Daemon could have continued discussing politics, but none of those men were necessarily suited for that area. They were all military commanders, so Daemon had to limit himself to such matters.
"Lord Stark, I would like you to already take the Northern troops back to the kingdom. We have enough ships to send you lords back so you may already begin organizing the realm. It will be better for all of you to prepare the North."
There were still several lords remaining. They had to organize the kingdom now while Daemon returned to the Wall.
"Mance, I am going to ask you to remain in the south a little longer, until we have enough ships to send the free folk troops," Daemon said, knowing that Mance was quite restless to return to Winterfell, to his wife and his one-day-old son, who already had a name.
However, Daemon knew he was important enough to understand the value of this. Without him there, and without Daemon as well, considering he now had to constantly mobilize himself because he had many other matters to handle, without good leadership among the free folk, problems could arise.
There were so many problems he had to deal with. Any misstep could trigger an avalanche of issues, which would begin appearing one after another, in sequence.
If Mance left, order among the free folk could weaken, and perhaps fights would arise with the other soldiers, given the natural prejudice Westeros held against the free folk, and the same was true in reverse. That could escalate into brawls and even deaths. A rebellion among them truly could be born overnight, so Daemon had to be extremely cautious about it.
It was easy to make others obey and calm down, but when he was not available to command or threaten them, certainly the free folk and the people of Westeros could create that avalanche, and a war could erupt within their own ranks.
"Anyway, Lord Tully, I want you to help me with the Vale. I would like to send troops from the Riverlands and the Stormlands under my command, with you acting as my second-in-command, to crush the rebellion the Vale is becoming... I know you would prefer to take care of your last niece..." Daemon said.
"We received letters from the Vale. There was a storm throughout the entire kingdom. It left a trail of destruction in crops, towns, and even castles were affected," Lord Stark said as he looked at Daemon with a sigh. "They heard dragon roars in the sky a moment before the storm simply appeared out of nowhere..."
"Really? Well, what a coincidence," Daemon said, clearly mocking the situation.
Ned said little else. What more could he say? He had no control over Daemon, and never would. Perhaps he was thinking that Daemon had become ruthless because of the harshness of his life, from what he had endured in Winterfell even before living in that other world, and he certainly carried guilt for that, but now it was already too late for regrets.
He was a condemned man. He knew he would go North only to organize matters, finally visit his children in Winterfell, and now leave Robb to assume leadership of Winterfell and even the Northern troops in the war, while he himself would go to the Wall to help the Lord Commander and his brother. However, he would never leave the Wall after that.
It was something he honestly believed he deserved at that moment as well.
Unaware of Lord Stark's inner thoughts, Daemon stretched calmly before the four men.
"With that, we are finished here. I think it is finally time to begin the audience to deal with our defeated nobles and also show the wight we brought..." Daemon said.
"And what will you do with the High Septon? He still seeks an audience with you every day," Stannis said.
Every day the High Septon sought an audience with the king, but in a desperate manner. He needed to know what sort of relationship they now had. After all, he had threatened Daemon on the day of Lord Stark's execution and condemned him. On that day, Daemon had shot an arrow into the man's anus. The man could not even leave his bed to relieve himself without the help of the septas, who now cared for him like a baby in diapers.
"Let him come to the audience with all the allied and captured lords..." Daemon merely said about the old fool.
For now, he had not shown any intention of causing problems for the Faith. After he killed the High Sparrow, things had calmed down somewhat. There were still many whispers and even accusations that he had truly caused the accident.
With those words, he left the council chamber, finding Sandor waiting for him, wearing the old armor of the Kingsguard of Westeros.
Daemon had no intention of changing the traditions of his house in most aspects. After all, he had conquered all those battles since coming to this world precisely to restore House Targaryen. Perhaps he would place some influence from his life in Skyrim here or there, but nothing radical, at least on the surface, because he would change certain philosophies within the house to prevent tyrant kings capable of destroying the house as they had done in the past.
Daemon continued walking through the Red Keep and, when people stopped to bow, he noticed the place had become crowded, filled with ladies and the children of Crownlands lords over the last few days.
Now that the war had ended, both the lords who fought alongside Daemon, satisfied with having chosen the right side, immediately sent letters to members of their houses to fill the court with them, given the importance of what would happen in the coming days. Likewise, the defeated had also come in an attempt to save their husbands or fathers. And since the Crownlands surrounded the capital, they arrived much faster than anyone else from Westeros.
"Your Majesty," Maester Nolum approached Daemon.
Satisfied with his presence, Daemon pulled out several bundles of letters he had written the moment he arrived at the Red Keep, when he locked himself in his room to write them the previous day.
The maester also carried several letters. Many bore the Martell seal. Daemon would enjoy reading the threats from the remnants of Sunspear without them knowing that the entire family had already perished.
"Maester Nolum, send all of these letters to the kingdoms, each one addressed to the council," Daemon said.
While the maester glanced quickly at him, he bowed before also offering another set of letters.
"These are for Your Majesty."
Daemon took and stored the letters away. He would read them later while continuing onward. The maester soon accompanied him on his way outside the castle.
Daemon still had to choose a maester for the Red Keep. Maester Nolum was merely one loaned from House Pyle, which was located south of King's Landing, exactly as Daemon had requested, and Lord Pyle had offered to manage matters after they conquered King's Landing.
But Nolum would not become the Grand Maester. At least, the maester himself did not seem to have much interest in it, and Daemon would also disagree with it. Naturally, however, Nolum seemed to have his own bond with House Pyle above any ambition, being a rather calm, pacifistic, and even somewhat fearful man, preferring to live far away from the machinations of court. Especially when no one yet knew what kind of court Daemon and House Targaryen would build within the Red Keep, though naturally everyone presumed it would be quite turbulent.
Not that Daemon would force him to accept the position in any way.
Currently, the maesters were a somewhat complicated matter for Daemon, given what he had discovered when he entered the Citadel and killed many archmaesters. After discovering that Robert's Rebellion had been orchestrated by them, in addition to the supposed fact that his parents had created the war themselves by fleeing together.
Daemon also sent a letter through Maester Nolum to the Citadel, urgently requesting representatives to answer on behalf of the order and settle matters, after all, he possessed all the evidence against the Citadel and intended to expose it in court now that everyone would be gathered.
So that all could see that the Order of Maesters was far more than it appeared to be, not to mention there were still many whispers, since everyone regarded Daemon as the man who killed numerous maesters at the Citadel two years ago, naturally.
So he would show the reason why he had become a maester killer when he went to the Citadel, in addition to showing everyone that he was truly Rhaegar's legitimate son by marriage, although the latter was no longer so necessary at this point.
Daemon also did not seem willing to trust the maesters, but he also understood their value. However, he needed to reorganize the order after exposing their crimes.
"Your Majesty..." the maester began speaking while they walked outside, ignoring the people bowing to them. "An archmaester from the Citadel has arrived in King's Landing. He came by ship."
"Who?" Daemon raised an eyebrow at that. Whoever had arrived in King's Landing meant the person had begun traveling at the start of the Oldtown war, when Daemon had not yet conquered King's Landing from the Lannisters. Which was rather bizarre, considering someone would be coming here in the middle of the conflict. Even so, he was fortunate to arrive after it had already ended.
"Archmaester Marwyn, Your Majesty. An archmaester of the Citadel devoted to magic and the occult more than any other archmaester. At least, that is how he is known," the maester said.
Daemon seemed thoughtful. He would speak with that maester later. He had not seen his name in the documents he found, which was why he had not killed him.
"I appreciate your words, Maester Nolum. Now, if you will excuse me..." He continued walking until he saw someone stopping in the middle of the path.
It was a platinum-haired boy, clearly Valyrian. Daemon stopped and observed him, noticing the sigil of House Velaryon.
"Your Majesty... cough, cough..." He began coughing. "It is a pleasure to meet you... cough, cough..."
Beside him stood two guards and a maester of his own, likely a personal maester to deal with his obvious illness, while all of them looked at Daemon with a certain caution. The boy tried to show respect by kneeling, and the others followed suit. He was quite frail, trying his best just to rise again.
"You must be Lord Velaryon," Daemon said, motioning for him to stand with a finger pointed upward.
The boy nodded and stood up. "Cough, cough..." He began coughing again.
It was just as they had told him. The boy's health was extremely fragile.
"Yes, Your Grace. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. A shame I could not stand among the wars you fought with such glory... cough, cough..." he said, coughing with a pale face, forcing himself to continue.
Daemon stared at him and nodded. "It is alright, Lord Velaryon. Your troops were most welcome, along with the master-at-arms you appointed to lead them. House Targaryen will never forget the loyalty of House Velaryon."
Daemon could tell at a glance that this boy would probably die before the age of fifteen and would need to marry very quickly if he wished to preserve the bloodline, since he must have been the last one remaining. Although... there was another Velaryon... Daemon remembered that.
"I heard Aurane Waters became a pirate in the Stepstones," Daemon suddenly said.
The boy seemed to tremble slightly before nodding. "Yes... Your Majesty. Cough, cough... My uncle... fled with a large number of House Velaryon troops and is currently acting as an outlaw pirate," he said with shame at seeing men of his house follow Aurane instead of him. Everyone knew he would not last much longer.
He had almost said, "bastard uncle," but perhaps the maester or some adviser had warned him to be careful with that, considering Daemon himself once held the status of a bastard as Jon Snow, even though he had truly been a hidden prince. It was a word that had to be used carefully in front of the king, given everything people already whispered about Winterfell and the anger Daemon held and openly displayed toward his own uncle, Lord Stark.
Daemon seemed to think for a moment, ignoring whether the boy had called Aurane a bastard or not. He would have to deal with the Stepstones in the future.
He looked at the boy and could not help but feel a certain pity. House Velaryon was now reduced to him alone, a house with a great history that had stood beside the Targaryens for much of it. It had also once been the richest house in Westeros.
"Come see me later, Lord Velaryon. I may be able to deal with your current problem," Daemon said, catching the boy by surprise.
"You can deal with my condition?" he asked, already knowing that Daemon was a sorcerer who had cured his Stark cousin of the paralysis in his legs. That was another thing people said about him, not only about the monster who won wars.
Even the two maesters involved, the Velaryon guards, and everyone around them seemed surprised by those words.
Sandor was the only one who remained silent. He already seemed to have seen everything while standing beside Daemon.
Daemon merely smiled. "Of course. Come see me later. I have some herbs I gathered, priorities, and I can prepare some potions that will cure you because, just by looking at your current state, you do not have much time left to live. And I know what you have... it is a problem within your lungs."
Those words seemed to shake the boy, while Daemon continued walking past him without giving him time to respond or even allowing the two maesters present to bombard him with questions.
For the boy Monterys Velaryon, it was not merely a surgery like the one he had performed on Bran or would perform on Shireen. He had studied research where certain mages, healers, and scholars joined together to investigate this same disease, which was fatal if not properly treated with a powerful healing spell in Tamriel. He had seen records of the illness in the region of Morrowind, in the eastern part of the continent, where it had been named tuberculosis.
It was fortunate that Daemon, despite never deeply studying the school of Restoration because he lacked the same talent for it that he possessed for Alteration and Conjuration, had become interested in creating a potion due to the lack of healing magic available, even though no potion had ever been created before, since the disease had always been treated by priests of great temples or adepts and masters of Restoration. Daemon had succeeded in doing so and had even gained a certain renown in the region of Morrowind and among alchemist guilds throughout the continent.
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