~~~Skyfall, Vally of Arryn~~~
Artys Arryn POV
"My lord, the hill tribes are not some bandits. We have tried many times to tame them, and each time we managed to kill them at a heavy cost of men and gold. So I ask you to rethink your decision. War has not started yet," Lord Royce spoke softly, trying once again to make me reconsider.
I understand his concern. But that is something I can't do anymore.
This time is different.
Yes, many lives will be lost, but after this, the hill tribes will either bend the knee or be dealt with forever.
It doesn't matter where they hide. They cannot face us in open battle, and if they run into forests or mountains, it won't save them.
What is the point of hiding when the sky itself watches you?
The hill tribes are under constant surveillance by the FBI, the Feathered Bureau of Investigation.
My birds are everywhere. Pigeons, sparrows, ravens, smaller birds, all watching.
The crows and other larger birds like falcons, owls, and even eagles serve under my Luftwaffe, my attack wing.
They handle battlefield surveillance and air support, while the FBI handles spying.
So far, they have been flawless.
The holy war they did in my name has been named the Massacre of Ravens by maesters.
Though they were not able to find out the reason why birds fought each other, many rumors like witchcraft or curses, the usual Westerosi stupidity, started spreading.
Those fucking idiots who were raised by the Citadel decided to serve the maesters, while I promised them grapes, corn, grains, roasted meat, and fish.
But no, they wanted scraps and insects.
They deserve to die.
From the battle reports I heard, when the Luftwaffe arrived to assist the crows, it was like a one-sided massacre, especially the attacks of peregrine falcons. They were like missiles hitting their targets.
"My lord, are you okay? You seem lost," Lord Royce said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Do not worry, Lord Royce," I replied calmly. "I told you already, I have placed spies within many of the hill tribes. We will know their movements. This time, they will either kneel or die."
Soon we reached the Iron Circle, the blacksmith association I built here after the iron mines were discovered.
It was built next to the largest mine. There were multiple workshops surrounding the area, though the entrance was not just a simple cave. Most of the Iron Circle was inside the mountain.
I built it like Erebor.
Though it is nowhere near Erebor at all, just a bad copy of it, but with the limited resources, that's what we achieved.
The main gate was wide enough for two wagons to pass easily, and on both sides stood two huge statues of men with hammers in their hands, carved from stone.
"Let's have a look at our weapons for the army," I smirked at Lord Royce.
"Yes, yes, another strain on the coffers," Lord Royce commented, his thoughts already calculating the cost of arming the entire army with swords, shields, and armor.
"It's just gold, Lord Royce. We can earn it again," I replied. "But men, they can't come back to life."
Unless you are the Night King.
As we reached the gates of the Iron Circle, the guards knelt upon seeing me.
"Little lord, may I ask something?" Royce said as we walked inside. "Why did you refuse Ser Brynden earlier? He could have served again as Knight of the Gate. Your father gave him that position when he married your mother."
There it is again.
That word.
"For God's sake, Lord Royce, do not call that woman my mother," I said, my voice colder now. "I had only one mother, and she died giving birth to me. I have no need for more."
He went silent. For good reason. That woman tried to have me killed more than once.
Thanks to the FBI, I always got the information early.
"As for Brynden Tully," I continued, "you already know I have given that title to Ser Lyn. And you know his nature. If I replace him with Ser Brynden, he would most likely challenge him to a duel, and then we would have Riverrun at our neck, not to mention his niece in Winterfell."
"Besides, it's not my fault he left his post after his niece's request," I added.
"Lord Tully is a good man, and so is Ser Brynden. They are our allies, little lord. All your plans and the sugarcane and the rest are grown in the Riverlands. They are people with whom you should make an alliance, not hate them," Lord Royce offered his advice.
On the surface, it's right.
I should make an alliance with the Tullys, but what's the point of an alliance when in a few years it would all be burning?
I have absolutely no interest in helping them. I don't think I would even be in Westeros when that would be happening. I would be in Essos, most probably getting those Free Cities under me.
Besides, I still have almost all of the riverlords who share borders with the Vale under my influence.
If I were to order them something and Tully something else, they would follow mine. Such is the Riverlands, the most divided kingdom. The Tullys have little control over them.
"Your advice is sound, no doubt about that. But Lord Royce, House Tully does not control the Riverlands much, and we already have alliances with House Whent, Mooton, Waynwood, and more. These houses are more than enough to fulfill our demand for sugarcane and other crops, and we could still get more from the Reach," I replied seriously.
I would have to make a visit to the Reach too, to see if I could get them into an alliance with me.
"But sending him back like this does not send a good message to the realm. And what would Lord Arryn think?" he argued back, not backing down.
"Father will understand, and as for the others, it doesn't matter. Lord Royce, I must remind you again, your loyalty is to House Arryn first, then anyone else, not even the crown," I said in a low voice so only he and our guards could hear.
"I understand, my lord. But I must warn you, fighting with friends alongside you is much better than fighting alone," he said, his expression solemn with concern.
"Duly noted," I replied with a chuckle.
Running the Vale is not as easy as I thought.
These lords might seem respectful when they talk to you face to face, but they are hard to control. Every decision must be justified, or there will be protest.
Even this war—many protested.
At last, I offered that the entire cost of this war would fall upon the shoulders of House Arryn, and that made many support it, though with doubtful faces.
If it had been their gold, they would have refused outright.
I even had to go to King's Landing, that snake pit, just to convince my father about this war. Since he is the lord, with his approval, the lords of the Vale didn't really have much choice.
The falcons carried the orders, personally written by Jon Arryn.
Now I use falcons instead of ravens.
Maesters are pretty pissed about it. Many lords asked me to share the trick of how to tame a falcon, but they got no reply from me.
"My lord, I have been waiting for you," a familiar voice called out.
I turned.
Master Mero Vhassan, one of the finest blacksmiths from Volantis.
He had come three years ago after I invited him. He had known my uncle, and after seeing the iron mines and hearing my plans, he chose to stay.
And because of him, others followed.
Smiths from across the realm came here to work and train since the pay was attractive, there were resources, and most importantly, respect. Unlike across the realm, the smiths here could become part of the Iron Circle.
Now it has become like an achievement to be recognized by the Iron Circle.
Regular smithing competitions are held, and tokens are given out, bearing an Iron Smith symbol, a hammer and a sickle.
I know, it looks fucking communist, but it was not me who came up with it. It was Mero's apprentice.
"Master Mero Vhassan," I said, raising my hand and offering the bearded man a handshake, which he readily accepted.
His hands were rough with bruises, as they should be, while mine were soft since I haven't practiced swords much.
I had been consumed by all the preparations and ruling. I could hardly get time to practice anymore.
I should find time for evening classes with Ser Lyn and Ser Jasper.
"I came to check the weapons production," I said.
"Of course, my lord. This way."
He led us inside.
The deeper we went, the louder it became.
The sound of hammers striking metal echoed through the halls. Sparks flew. Heat filled the air.
Hundreds of smiths worked without pause.
Like a machine.
We stopped before a large reinforced door, guarded by five men in blue armor.
One of the warehouses of the Iron Circle.
The guards opened the door, and when we entered—my gods.
There were rows of armor sets, neatly arranged. Swords lined up in perfect order. Spears stacked in bundles. Bows, shields, chainmail, daggers.
I looked at the master smith. His expression was fanatic. Honestly, people like him are my favorite. They live for their art.
"My lord," he said, his voice slightly trembling, "this is the work of two years."
He stepped forward, gesturing around.
"My lord, please look on your left," Mero requested.
As Lord Royce and I turned our heads, we were met with five wooden dummies, each wearing different kinds of armor.
He walked toward them, stopping at the first.
"This one is for the Order of Moon Knights, as you asked. The next one is the regular knight armor, built as close to your design as possible."
The first two were full-body armor. The only difference was that the armor for the Order of Moon Knights had better design and quality.
"Then this one is for men-at-arms, not as heavy as knights, best for faster movement while staying protected. And this one is for levies, cheaper and easy to make in bulk," he explained further.
The next ones were different, no longer fully covered, only vital parts protected, heavily inspired by Roman equipment, though the color was blue instead of red, and there was chainmail in the armor.
"And at last, for the archers, light armor with even more maneuverability, and for close combat, there will be a short sword with them," he finished his presentation, almost breathless.
"How many men can you equip?" Lord Royce asked.
"This is just one of the warehouses. If I were to count them all, we have enough to equip two thousand knights, seven thousand men-at-arms, ten thousand levies, and about two thousand archers," he replied immediately.
A smile formed on my face.
I walked toward the dummies, inspecting the armor more closely.
They were exactly as I expected.
I patted his back, though I could only reach half of it since I was small.
"You did a good job, Master Mero."
Then I turned.
"Lord Royce, tell the kitchen to prepare a feast for the Iron Circle and those who helped in this, and for each, a barrel of rum, vodka, or wine, whatever they want, as a gift from House Arryn."
"Yes, my lord," Royce replied, though I could already see the pain in his eyes.
He is likely calculating the cost of all this in his head.
"So war it is then," he said, picking up a sword and checking its quality.
"The time has come," I said quietly, "to make those savages kneel…"
I paused.
Thinking about Maira.
I have not forgotten.
The FBI has gathered intel. I know exactly which tribe attacked her family and who were responsible for her parents' deaths.
She will have her revenge too.
POV ends
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