Aemon pushed open the door to the conference room.
Representatives from all parties had been waiting a long time. More than a dozen people sat around three tables.
Among them were Runestone City veterans such as Gunthor, Gerald, and William.
There were also allies and vassals, including Holden, Addison, and Walder.
The rest were staff officers brought by each of them, as well as some elders from the Royce family.
As His Royal Highness opened the door, the melodious sound of a cello followed.
Everyone fell silent and followed closely behind.
Tonight's pre-war meeting would determine who would make the honorable sacrifice in this war.
"Everyone, let's not talk nonsense."
Aemon walked to the front and pointed to a world map hanging on the wall.
It couldn't be called a world map, though.
There was no North, no eastern Essos, no Sothoryos, and no Summer Islands on it.
It was just a detailed map of the Gorge.
Bang!
Aemon picked up a dragon-shaped stone sculpture with a magnetic base and placed it in the location of Seagull Town. He said directly, "Tomorrow, the army will set out. First, we must meet in Seagull Town to obtain supplies and contact the Driftmark Island coalition forces."
There was no doubt about this.
The people of the Vale lacked ships, so they had to ally with the sea families.
The interests of both sides aligned.
Then, Aemon took out dragon-shaped stone sculptures and placed them at the locations of Crab Island and Driftmark Island.
Aemon drew a straight line along the north and south of the Gorge Sea with his fingers, explaining the key points. "The Three Daughters was defeated a few years ago. Now, they have entered the Gorge Sea from the Stepstones and are scattered in small groups, causing chaos."
These three ports are all closed. The Three Daughters can't satisfy their greed by simply robbing passing ships.
And the climate in the Gorge Sea is unpredictable. The seas are turbulent, and the profits aren't worth the risk."
Everyone listened attentively, nodding silently from time to time.
His Royal Highness's analysis was reasonable.
The pirates of the Three Daughters could do anything—except resist the urge to loot.
Bang!
Another stone sculpture fell, this time a red one with a cross. It landed in the spot that marked Pentos on the other side of the Strait.
Aemon said, "There is no room left for them to plunder in Westeros, so the pirates of the Three Daughters must move against their old enemies."
Pentos ranked high among the nine Free Cities in overall strength.
However, its location was awkward.
Braavos lay on the upper half of the strait. The two city-states had fought for years, suffering more losses than victories.
To the south were Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh—the Three Daughters—who had repeatedly driven Pentos back.
Caught between them, Pentos had become a punching bag.
"The Three Daughters can't plunder the ports of Westeros, so they'll likely target the relatively weaker Pentos."
Aemon drew three small red circles on Pentos and said thoughtfully, "There are three ports in total, and they'll all be targets of plunder."
The three ports were the outermost Port of Casromè, a narrow bay shelter, and the primary Port of Pentos.
"Which port will they plunder?"
Holden asked curiously.
"No one can say for sure."
Aemon didn't jump to conclusions but offered an opinion: "Casromè is the second richest. It's full of casinos and brothels, and it's suffered the most damage."
Casromè was treated like a shield to protect the main port.
Whenever the enemy struck close by, Pentos launched offensives from Casromè.
"We can't say for certain that the pirates will attack Pentos."
Walder, calm and measured, reminded them that war is unpredictable.
"That's right. We'll need to wait for confirmation."
Aemon nodded and pointed to Driftmark Island. "We don't know what the enemy thinks, but we can lead them by the nose."
The chaos caused by the Three Daughters wasn't limited to the ports of Westeros.
They could ally with Driftmark Island, which could then ally with Pentos.
Together, they could set a trap across the Strait and bait the enemy into it.
Everyone looked at one another, but no one objected.
Sea Snake Corlys was known the world over.
Nine voyages weren't made by mere mortals.
All they needed to do was make a proposal and wait to see how Driftmark responded.
There were no objections. Unity in the face of outside enemies was never a bad thing.
That settled it.
Aemon looked around. "Any dissent?"
He had never seen war. He knew nothing of strategy.
These plans hadn't been made when the call to arms was issued.
It was only while waiting for his vassals that ideas began to take shape.
As weapons and armor were produced, the plan improved bit by bit.
It was still crude. Details remained to be refined.
Overall, though, the direction was right.
He waited for a while. No one stood up.
Even the sons of nobles like Holden and Walder, who were only knights in peacetime, had no experience with real war.
No one dared to speak without substance.
"I have a question!"
Addison jumped up.
Aemon was surprised. "Speak."
Was this man finally taking things seriously?
Addison never failed to disappoint.
He cocked an ear toward the door and earnestly asked, "Your Highness, what's the name of the music just now?" It was very moving. I want the musicians of Greydale to learn it."
Aemon: ...
He almost kicked him out.
But Addison's interruption lightened the mood.
Holden and the others smiled. The tension eased.
The pre-war meeting was brief.
His Highness spoke for ten minutes before the cello fell silent.
Addison asked, "Prince, is that tune new?"
He hit the mark.
Aemon smiled. "I had it composed. It's called 'The Rainy Season of Casromè.'"
"Casromè..."
Everyone stared at the map, their eyes falling on Pentos.
His Highness had already decided that the war would begin at Casromè Harbor and had composed a song in advance.
Given Aemon's calm nature, he wouldn't bluff for no reason.
Knock, knock!
There was a knock. A young musician entered, carrying a cello. He didn't dare look up.
"Your Highness, the music is finished."
Aemon glanced at the musician and tossed a gold pouch from his chest.
He didn't like musicians.
The youth caught the purse and forgot all else; joy was written on his face.
"Prepare a carriage."
Aemon called to William at the door. "Escort him safely to Iron Oak City. Let him play this piece for Lord Waywood."
"Yes!"
William obeyed and left with the musician.
Everyone was confused.
Addison asked, "But if the musician is gone, who will we listen to?"
The banquet below was still lively.
Aemon calmly replied, "This song is for others to hear. Tonight was its first appearance—an exception, for our ears only."
Everyone understood. They stopped asking.
They, too, felt that this song was extraordinary.
Downstairs, the banquet raged on.
...
Runestone City wasn't the only lively place.
Iron Oak City was celebrating too, with banquets nearly every night.
That night,
Old Red sat at the main table with a young lady in his arms, laughing loudly.
Two things delighted him.
First, after being embarrassed by the young Targaryen, the boy didn't retaliate; instead, he called his banners to fight the pirates.
"He's just as arrogant as his father."
Old Red sneered.
Second,
With Seagull Town and other major ports closed, Iron Oak's trade surged.
Even Vale merchants came flocking in, selling rare goods.
"Haha, you're all friends of the Waywood family."
He toasted merrily, his old face blooming.
Among the merchants were second sons, hedge knights, and foreigners.
They were allowed to drink at his table.
The Waywood family hadn't had guests in a while, which was another reason.
The old fox was feeling generous.
"Father, these are good items."
His eldest son brought two items forward.
Old Red squinted. Honeycomb coal and lime.
"Where'd you get them?"
He recognized their uses at a glance.
"Merchants from the Vale," Hart replied. "They're from Riverdale Town. Many nobles have bought them in secret."
"Haha, the Targaryen boy does have some talent."
Old Red laughed. "With these, we can keep out the cold and damp, and we can repair the walls.
"And the hall," Hart added.
Father and son laughed together. The crowd cheered.
Until the next night.
The young musician played "The Rainy Season of Casromè," accompanied by others.
The cello's sound was solemn.
"The pirates ask, 'What makes you worthy?'"
"As far as I know, you and I both have sharp steel blades..."
"Casromè Harbor!"
"Pirates lie in wait. The dragon burns bright."
"A storm strikes..."
Only a broken rudder remains.
The piece ended in ten minutes.
Its tone was bleak and savage; the lyrics were vivid.
Pirates provoked a dragon at Casromè Port and were burned alive.
Storms came. No one survived.
Old Red's face twitched. "Where is Casromè?"
A son ran over. "A port in Pentos, I think."
"Some foreign place," Old Red muttered.
"You came from Runestone. Did anyone send a message?"
The musician trembled. "Prince Aemon sends his respects. He cannot visit now, but he will come after he defeats the pirates."
"Who asked!"
Old Red roared. "Feed them and send them on their way!"
His children did so.
One even broke the cello.
Still, this did not calm Old Red.
The first half was a rallying war cry.
But the second half? A warning.
That boy had no intention of letting him go.
No one knows!
Old Red grabbed his wine, but his hands shook too badly to lift it.
"Father, are you all right?"
Hart asked.
"I'm fine! What could happen to me?"
Old Red snapped.
He was the Lord of Iron Oak City and was protected by the Lady of the Eyrie and the King.
Not even Daemon could kill an ancient noble openly.
At most, a few children might die. That wouldn't scare him.
"I'm tired. You keep drinking."
He left, leaning on the young lady.
His legs were trembling.
"Your naming day is next month," Hart said. "We haven't discussed—"
"What's to discuss? Cancel it."
"But you love naming days—"
"I said cancel it!"
Old Red cursed. "Will I die if I skip a year? I'll live for decades more!"
Now was the time for caution, not pride.
Hart didn't speak again.
"One more thing."
Old Red added. "Recall all my sons and grandsons. Tell the married daughters to stay home. No going out."
The castle was sacred.
Iron Oak and the daughters' homes would be safe.
If you can't fight, hide!
"Yes, Father."
Hart obeyed.
Then he returned to the banquet to entertain the Vale merchants.
...
At the same time,
Aemon rode a white deer at the head of his army of 15,000, drawing near the low, white walls of Seagull Town.
As the sun set, a raven from Riverdale flew toward him.
He caught it in midair.
Johanna's letter bore a black rose.
Aemon smiled.
Everything was going according to plan.
The Rainy Season of Casromè was not a threat.
Nor was it bravado.
He wasn't afraid of whatever defenses Old Red could raise.
He was simply being thoughtful.
He wanted Old Red to spend his last days in fear of a death he knew was coming.
Just like the Royce motto:
We Remember.
---------------
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