Aemond stood behind Helaena.
His face was clean now, his eye moving slowly across the chamber. Everyone felt its gaze pause upon them.
"Pay your respects to His Grace," Aemond said calmly.
All bowed, save Helaena, who knelt, and Alicent, who remained seated. The ritual was stripped to its barest bones. The king was dead—there should have been a solemn farewell, but there was no time.
After the ceremony, Aemond looked at Talya.
The handmaiden stood by the door, her face expressionless.
Larys followed his gaze, looking at her in turn. He dared not underestimate this woman. Talya controlled the secret passages of the Red Keep, and she had a network of "little birds" throughout King's Landing. Her intelligence web might well exceed his own. She was Aemond's eyes and ears in the capital.
"Report," Aemond said.
Talya spoke with composure. "The city is sealed. The Watch and my people are searching. Grand Maester Orwyle has vanished. The representatives of the Four Kingdoms—Manderly, Royce, Blackwood, Errol—have all disappeared. They left the Guildhall with their escorts this afternoon, saying they were going to brothels and taverns, but they were found nowhere."
Aemond's eye narrowed.
Talya continued, her voice measured. "Also, the Valyrian steel crown His Grace wore daily is missing. The handmaidens say it was on the bedside table last night."
The air in the chamber grew thick.
The councilors fell silent.
Orwyle vanished. Then the crown vanished. The Four Kingdoms' representatives fled. And the king was poisoned.
Larys cleared his throat and stepped forward on his cane. He spoke with great care, weighing each word before it left his lips.
"I have a conjecture. If Orwyle disappears, His Grace is poisoned and dies, the crown vanishes, and the Four Kingdoms' representatives flee... then it is likely that Grand Maester Orwyle forged a testament and gave the crown to the delegates as proof."
Aemond turned to him, his violet eye like ice. "A fine conjecture, Lord Larys."
"I merely offer a possibility," Larys said, bowing his head. "There may be other explanations."
"Such as?" Queen Alicent spoke from beside the king's body.
Larys hesitated. He looked at Alicent, then at Aegon, then at Aemond, lowering his voice.
"Such as... that Orwyle truly poisoned His Grace, stole the crown, forged a testament, conspired with the Blacks and the Four Kingdoms' representatives, and means to spread rumors against you throughout the Seven Kingdoms. In the end..." He paused, steeling himself to finish. "In the end, a tale of imprisonment, poisoning, and a deathbed repentance in favor of Rhaenyra. A story that His Grace died of illness and would have named Rhaenyra heir. He could inflame men's hearts and incite rebellion."
The words fell like knives, piercing each heart in the room.
Alicent rose abruptly, her voice cracking. "How dare you suggest my son would murder his father and his king!"
Aegon too cried out, "You speak madness!"
Sweat beaded on Larys's brow, but he pressed on. "Queen Mother, Crown Prince, my prince—I only suggest the worst possibility. We must guard against what our enemies might do."
"I forgive you your caution," Aemond said lightly. "Continue."
Larys drew a deep breath. "They will say the prince murdered his father and king, and that the king repented on his deathbed, wishing to name Rhaenyra in his place. They will use this tale to foment rebellion and shake the loyalty of the lords of the Seven Kingdoms to the Crown."
Aemond regarded him a long moment, then nodded. "A reasonable conjecture. But we will say this: Princess Rhaenyra conspired with Grand Maester Orwyle to murder the king. She was wroth that His Grace, King Viserys the First, changed the succession. Her three sons, the dragonriders, were executed by me. So she nursed her grievance and poisoned her own father. She forged the testament, stole the crown, seduced the delegates..."
Aemond paused, looking at them all. "Send ravens. Let the Citadel take a position on this matter, and condemn Orwyle's crimes. At the same time, let the Faith take a position, and support Aegon. We must act first. We cannot wait for them to fling their filth at us."
Will asked cautiously, "Your Grace, the Citadel and the Faith... will they cooperate?"
"Yes," said Aemond.
He did not explain the terms. Aemond felt as uneasy as a hot stone beneath his feet. He suspected the Citadel and the Faith stood behind the poisoning of his father, Viserys. But now was not the time to break with them. Now, he needed them to support the Greens. After the war was won, he would settle accounts.
A knock came at the door—very soft, but everyone heard it.
"Enter."
Ser Rickard Thorne of the Kingsguard entered, knelt, and offered a roll of parchment. "Your Grace, urgent dispatches from High Tide and Dragonstone."
Aemond took it and unrolled it. In the candlelight, his face did not change, but the fingers holding the parchment tightened, the knuckles white.
"Read it," he said, handing it to Will.
Will cleared his throat. "To Prince Aemond: By your command, all towns on High Tide and Dragonstone have been burned, the harbors destroyed, the wells poisoned, the fields salted. These two places are now barren. Our army has completed its fortifications, cleared the fields, and is withdrawing to King's Landing. Furthermore, according to scout ships, a fleet has appeared east of Dragonstone. Its numbers are unknown."
When he finished, deathly silence filled the chamber.
Alicent suddenly looked at Aemond, her voice trembling. "You burned Dragonstone? Those are the ancestral lands of House Targaryen!"
"The Dragonmont keep is untouched," Aemond replied calmly. "I burned only the port. If Rhaenyra means to counterattack, she will find no foothold. The wealth of High Tide has been moved to King's Landing. A century of Velaryon riches now belongs to the Crown."
"But this is..."
"Mother, this is war." Aemond cut her off. "War is life and death. If we are soft, they will not be."
At that moment, Will spoke carefully. "Your Grace, the wealth brought from High Tide, added to what was seized earlier... totals approximately two million three hundred thousand gold dragons."
Two million three hundred thousand! All present drew sharp breaths. They knew that after all of Aemond's military expenditures, the treasury had held barely two million.
Erwin added, "The royal fleet has captured the warships at High Tide—over sixty vessels. Oldtown has more than a hundred. We are still at a disadvantage at sea."
Will continued, "Additionally, there are stores from Braavos at Moonspire, purchased for eight hundred thousand gold dragons. Enough to feed all of King's Landing for two years. Even if the sea is blockaded, we will not starve."
All nodded. Food, money, soldiers—what would the Blacks use for logistics?
"But the remaining Braavosi supplies..." Will hesitated. "With shipping interrupted, they cannot reach us."
"It is enough," Aemond said. "Over four million gold dragons. It will last. But the gold must be used: for levies, for arms, for shipbuilding, for grain. Will, see to it."
"Yes, Your Grace."