The raven from Dragonstone did not carry a scroll of parchment. It carried a heavy sealed letter written on fine vellum.
In the Great Hall of Winterfell Robb Stark broke the seal. It was red wax stamped with the three headed dragon.
"Read it," Robb said handing it to Maester Luwin.
The old Maester adjusted his spectacles. The hall was silent. The Lords of the North Greatjon Umber Rickard Karstark Roose Bolton (who was currently terrified into loyalty) leaned in.
"To Robb Stark styled King in the North," Luwin read his voice trembling slightly. "I Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men command you to lay down your crown. Present yourself at Dragonstone to swear fealty. If you bend the knee you shall remain Warden of the North. If you refuse I shall come to Winterfell. And when I come I shall bring Fire and Blood."
The Greatjon slammed his fist on the table.
"Let her come!" He roared. "We beat the Lions! We beat the Stags! We will beat the Dragons too!"
"Dragons are not armies Lord Umber," Roose Bolton said softly. "You cannot flank a dragon. You cannot starve a dragon. Harrenhal taught us that stone melts."
"And Harrenhal taught us that sticking to the old ways gets you killed," Andar spoke up.
He was standing by the fireplace warming his hands. He looked calm.
"Does she mention her army?" Andar asked.
"She mentions Unsullied," Luwin checked the letter. "Eight thousand. And Dothraki."
"Light infantry and light cavalry," Andar analyzed. "Against machine guns and rifled artillery they are obsolete. The Dothraki charge will be a suicide run. The Unsullied phalanx will be cut down before they get within spear range."
"It is the dragons Andar," Robb said his voice serious. "There are three of them. Big ones. If she burns the factory..."
"If she burns the factory we lose the war," Andar admitted. "The factory is the heart. If it stops beating the North dies."
He walked to the center of the room.
"We cannot fight a defensive war against air power. We cannot protect every village every farm. If she flies she dictates the battle."
"So we attack?" Rickard Karstark asked.
"No," Andar said. "We create a No Fly Zone."
The Proving Grounds
Two days later the Lords gathered in the snowy fields outside the Winterfell walls.
A strange weapon sat on a rotating platform.
It was not a cannon like the Napoleons. It had a long slender barrel nearly fifteen feet long. It pointed at the sky. A complex set of gears allowed two men to crank it rapidly changing its elevation and direction.
"The 88mm Flak Gun," Andar announced. "Model 1."
"It looks... thin," the Greatjon noted.
"It is high velocity," Andar explained. "It fires a fifteen pound shell at three thousand feet per second. It can reach a height of thirty thousand feet."
"And the shell?" Robb asked.
Andar held up the projectile. It had a brass nose cone.
"A timed fuse," Andar said. "We set the time. The shell spins. When the time is up it detonates. It fills the air with jagged steel shrapnel."
He pointed to the sky.
"Release the target!"
From the top of the Broken Tower a catapult launched a large barrel into the air. It was a moving target fast and small.
"Target acquired!" The gunner shouted looking through the optical sight. "Range five hundred yards! Elevation forty degrees!"
"Fire!"
CRACK.
The sound was sharper than a cannon. It was a whip crack that hurt the ears.
The gun recoiled violently ejecting a smoking brass casing.
Up in the sky a small black cloud appeared near the flying barrel.
POOF.
The explosion was precise. The shrapnel shredded the barrel instantly turning it into splinters that rained down on the snow.
"Got it," the gunner grinned.
"Reload!" Andar ordered. "Rapid fire!"
The crew moved with mechanical speed. They shoved a new shell in. The breech block slid shut.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
Three shells were fired in ten seconds. Three black clouds appeared in the sky forming a wall of shrapnel.
The Northern Lords stared. They imagined a dragon flying through that wall. Wings shredded. Scales pierced.
"It is a dragon killer," Robb breathed.
"It is a deterrent," Andar corrected. "If she knows we have this she will hesitate. If she hesitates we can talk."
"Talk?" The Greatjon frowned. "With a Targaryen?"
"We don't need to kill her Robb," Andar said. "Her army is useful. Her dragons are useful against the White Walkers. We need her to look North not at us."
Andar turned to Jory.
"Load the guns onto the train. We are sending a battery to Moat Cailin and a battery to White Harbor. If she flies North she will find the sky is full of teeth."
Dragonstone
Tyrion Lannister poured himself a goblet of wine. He needed it.
"He refused?" Tyrion asked reading the reply from Winterfell.
"He did not just refuse," Daenerys said pacing the Painted Table. "He insulted me. He invited me."
She threw the letter on the table.
To Daenerys Targaryen
The North is not a vassal. It is a free kingdom. We do not bend the knee to threats.
However we face a common enemy. The true threat lies beyond the Wall. If you wish to save the Seven Kingdoms come to Winterfell as a guest. If you come as a conqueror bring a coffin.
Signed
Robb Stark King in the North.
Andar Stark Minister of Industry.
"Bring a coffin," Daenerys repeated her violet eyes flashing. "The arrogance."
"It is confidence," Tyrion mused. "Andar Stark is not a man who makes idle threats. He took my father's castle in a day. He destroyed the Iron Fleet in an hour. If he says bring a coffin he has built one for you."
"I have dragons," Daenerys insisted. "They are invulnerable."
"Nothing is invulnerable Your Grace," Tyrion said softly. "Meraxes was killed by a scorpion bolt in Dorne. And that was a lucky shot from a wooden toy. This Andar... he builds machines of iron."
Tyrion walked to the window looking North.
"Do not fly there blindly. Meet him. But meet him on neutral ground."
"Where?"
"The Trident," Tyrion suggested. "The place where the dragons died last time. Let us see if the Wolves are willing to leave their den."
Daenerys stopped pacing.
"Fine," she said. "We fly to the Trident. I will take the Unsullied. I will take Drogon. And I will see this Industry for myself."
She looked at Tyrion.
"But if they try to trick me... I will burn them all."
[Quest Update: The Last Dragon]
[Diplomatic Channel: Opened]
[Tension: Critical]
[Next Move: The Summit at the Trident]
Back in Winterfell Andar watched the snow fall.
He knew the summit was coming. And he knew that words would not be enough. He needed a demonstration.
"Mott," Andar said. "Is the Leviathan repaired?"
"Yes My Lord."
"Good. Paint it. Paint it black. And mount the machine guns on the gondola."
Andar smiled a cold smile.
"If the Queen of Dragons wants a show we will give her the air show of the century."
...
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I wanted to let you know that I'm releasing bonus chapters for Power Stones. Here are the goals:
50 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
75 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
120 Power Stones: 3 Bonus Chapters
Thanks for the support!