"Robert will be raised as befits a future lord—he will be taught to ride, to handle weapons, to read and write. That is all. The matter is settled!" I struck the armrest of my chair with my palm and rose to my feet, signaling that our meeting was at an end.
To my satisfaction, the lords of the Vale—Bronze Yohn Royce in particular—looked pleased. If, in the capital, they managed to knock all the nonsense out of little Robert, they would gain a strong and courageous leader—one far more agreeable to follow than a spineless wretch. If that failed to happen, however, Bronze Yohn's prospects would look quite promising.
Though, as I recalled, House Arryn did have a distant relative by the name of Harrold Hardyng, better known as Harry the Heir. In theory, if anything were to happen to Robert, everything would pass to him. In any case, the boy was still alive, and no one could say how matters might unfold in the future.
And Jon Royce deserved more. He had organized the plot to eliminate Littlefinger, he had delivered Arya and Robert into my hands, and it was with him that I had held several private conversations. In the course of those talks, we had found certain prospects that suited us both.
With Robert Arryn and Arya Stark now in our custody, we began preparing for our return to the Red Keep.
Arya was given a fine cabin aboard the Lion and Rose. Next to her was lodged the sickly and tearful Robert. About twenty people accompanied him, though they sailed on another vessel; I allowed only two knights and three servants to remain with the boy.
Robert inspired pity. He was small for his age, painfully thin, with unhealthy skin and eyes that were perpetually watering. He lagged behind his peers both physically and mentally. From time to time, he suffered from what Westeros called the "shaking sickness"—epileptic fits.
Looking at him, one could not help but think of what people called degeneration of bloodlines.
On top of all his health issues, Lysa Arryn had done little to properly raise him—she indulged him endlessly and had even breastfed him until the age of six!
Placed in unfamiliar surroundings, Robert wept and fell into hysterics for nearly the entire journey. He was frightened by the absence of his mother, frightened by new faces, by the ship, by the sea—by everything! He would nearly scream simply because no one rushed to fulfill his every whim anymore.
I did not rush into any thorough or deliberate conversation with Arya Stark. I spoke to her only once, and only briefly, merely informing her that we were bound for King's Landing. I wanted to observe her—and give her some time to think.
*
At sea, we were battered by a storm that swept in from the east, but not a single ship was lost, and no one perished. In the capital, during that time, nothing occurred that warranted special attention.
Upon our arrival, we immediately convened the Small Council to discuss our next steps. The most troubling news came from the east—concerning Daenerys Targaryen and the Martells, who had thrown their support behind her.
Everyone understood that a new war awaited us, and that we needed a viable strategy—one that took into account three fully grown dragons and whatever devastation they might bring.
In the end, we reached the following conclusions: we were not yet ready to wage war at sea or on land, army against army. The dragons would simply roast our forces, and the result would be catastrophic.
Ravens were sent to every major city and castle with orders to hide valuables, food stores, children, and women in underground shelters; to avoid active engagements; to refrain from foolish heroics; and simply to wait. At this stage, while we did not yet fully understand how effective the dragons were or how best to counter them, this was the most rational course of action. If lords and knights lacked the means—or doubted the strength of their own walls—they were advised to move their most valuable assets to the great strongholds of their liege lords, or to the Red Keep, where the king pledged, in his own name, to safeguard their property.
Meanwhile, Tyrion, Qyburn, Marwyn the Mage, and I set to work designing crossbows capable of at least driving off—or perhaps even killing—dragons.
In fact, the groundwork had been laid long before by others, and it remained for us only to dust it off and bring it to completion. We developed two types of crossbows. The first were lighter, portable by two or three men. The second were heavier, mounted on wagons; these too could be moved, but doing so required eight to ten men to carry.
We also devised heavy bolts, some of which could be fitted with ropes—we had certain ideas in mind.
Work began in earnest. All smithies received priority orders to produce crossbows, bolts, and rope spools.
Plans for our new "toys," along with instructions for their proper use, were sent to every significant fortress.
We intended to meet the dragons within castles and cities. Such crossbows were installed on every tower surrounding the Red Keep and at every gate, and men trained with them day and night.
The advantage of the new design lay in its mobility: mounted on special gears, the crossbow could be raised or lowered vertically, and shifted left or right horizontally. This made it possible to respond to a dragon's approach from any direction and at any altitude.
Each tower and gate was equipped with two portable crossbows and one larger piece. The greatest number of crews were stationed along the walls of the Red Keep, on Visenya's Hill and at the Great Sept of Baelor, as well as on Hill of Rhaenys and among the ruins of the Dragonpit. Our firing positions were reinforced with sandbags and shielded with bull hides soaked in water.
(End of Chapter)
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