Aemond's gaze fell upon them.
Then he smiled.
This smile was far more genuine than the one he had given Larys just moments ago.
"Mother," he said. "I am announcing a troop deployment."
Queen Mother Alicent entered. She wore a long dark blue gown, her hair pinned up. Her face looked somewhat more haggard than it had a few days ago, but her green eyes still held their light. She walked to the right side of the long table and stopped.
"I know," she said.
She glanced sideways at Aelinor.
"Queen Aelinor represents the wounded King Aegon. She has come to listen to the council."
Aemond's gaze turned to Aelinor.
She held a swaddled infant in her arms. It was Jaehaera, Aegon's daughter, the newborn princess. The baby slept soundly, her small face wrapped in blankets, occasionally pursing her lips.
Aemond glanced at the swaddled child.
Then he looked away.
"If I recall correctly," he said, his voice cold, "Mother is no longer Regent."
Queen Alicent's expression froze for a moment.
Aemond continued. "Mother should spend more time caring for Jaehaera and Jaehaerys. They are still young and need their mother's company."
"Aemond," Alicent's voice was low, with a pleading note.
Aemond smiled.
He spread his hands.
"Very well. Very well."
He turned his head slightly and glanced at Hal.
Hal understood. He quickly walked to the corner of the room, took an oak chair, brought it to the right side of the long table, and set it down. The back of the chair faced the door; the seat faced the head of the table. The right side. The first position.
Queen Alicent looked at the chair, then at Aemond.
She did not speak.
She walked over and sat down.
Aelinor Rogare still stood at the door.
She still held Jaehaera.
No one moved a chair for her.
No one spoke.
Galwyn Hightower looked at his fingers.
Ser William Darklyn was expressionless.
Will Simmons stared at the table.
Larys Strong bowed his head in silence.
Aelinor bit her lip slightly. She glanced at Queen Mother Alicent, who wanted to speak for her. Aemond raised a hand to his mother. Alicent fell silent.
Aelinor looked again at Aemond.
Aemond stood beside the head chair, his violet eyes fixed on her. There was no hostility in that gaze. Nor was there goodwill. Only a cold observation.
Aelinor lowered her head.
Then, holding the child, she walked step by step toward the long table.
She walked to the end of the long table. Directly opposite the head position.
She carefully laid Jaehaera on a cushion on the table. The baby stirred but did not wake.
Then she stepped back into the corridor and bent down. She took a heavy oak chair with both hands. The chair legs scraped across the floor with a screech.
Everyone listened in silence.
No one rose to help.
No one spoke.
The chair was dragged and finally stopped at the foot of the long table. Directly opposite the head position.
Aelinor released it.
Then she lifted Jaehaera from the table.
Then she sat.
Her back straight, her chin slightly raised, her gaze fixed on Aemond standing behind the head chair.
Aemond looked at her.
He said nothing.
He sat down as well.
He sat in the head chair.
Then Aemond spoke. Without preamble.
"Will."
Will Simmons immediately rose.
"My prince."
"How are the provisions?"
Will's voice was smooth and clear. "Rook's Rest is within the Crownlands. The infantry will take ten days to march. We have mobilized enough dried food, salted meat, and oats for ten thousand men to sustain them for twenty days. Loading began three days ago."
Aemond nodded.
"Very well."
He turned left.
"Galwyn. William."
They rose simultaneously.
Aemond said, "In this battle, the Praetorian Guard will send five hundred men. The Royal Army will send three thousand."
Aemond stood. Bracing both hands on the table, he leaned forward slightly and looked at them all.
"Plus my personal guard. Ninety-five hundred men in total. March on Rook's Rest. Arrest all members of House Staunton and bring them to King's Landing for trial. If they resist... life or death is no object."
Galwyn Hightower nodded slightly. "As you command."
Ser William Darklyn also nodded. "As you command."
Aemond's gaze turned to the last man on the left.
Larys Strong.
Larys did not wait for him to speak. He slowly rose on his crutches. He was slower than the others, but no one rushed him. He straightened and bowed slightly.
"My prince."
Aemond looked at him.
"Go and inform all the Crownlords. Order them to assemble their armies at Rook's Rest. According to each house's allotment, which has already been discussed—five thousand soldiers in total. They are to await the Royal Army's arrival."
Larys nodded. "As you command."
Aemond looked away.
He thought for a moment. His fingers tapped the table twice.
Who would command this battle?
Logically, Galwyn Hightower—his uncle, Commander of the Praetorian Guard—was the best candidate. But Hightower... William Darklyn was Commander of the Royal Army and had vast experience, but he was too straightforward, not flexible enough.
As for Hal...
He glanced back.
Hal stood motionless.
Aemond shook his head inwardly. Not yet.
He was about to speak.
"I recommend someone."
Queen Alicent rose.
Her voice was not loud, but it was clear.
All looked at her.
Aemond looked at her.
"Mother, please speak."
Alicent drew a deep breath.
"Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Criston Cole."
She paused.
"He has been loyal to the late king for many years. He remains Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
Aemond did not answer immediately.
He stared at his mother.
Was this to help Aegon?
Alicent stood with a tangled expression.
She wanted him to agree.
Aelinor Rogare rose and spoke.
"His Grace has given a command."
She held Jaehaera in her arms and stood directly opposite the long table.
"On behalf of His Grace Aegon, I convey his orders."
Her voice was clear.
"The commander of this battle shall be Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
The ravens fell silent.
Across the long table, Galwyn Hightower's brow furrowed. Ser William Darklyn was expressionless. Will Simmons looked at the table. Larys Strong watched in silence.
Queen Alicent looked at Aemond.
Aemond sat in the head chair.
His face showed no expression.
He simply looked at Aelinor Rogare.
Those violet eyes were like two deep lakes, revealing no emotion.
Silence.
A long, long silence.
Then Aemond smiled.
The smile was faint, but everyone felt a chill.
He braced his hands on the table and slowly rose.
"Ser Criston Cole?"
He paused.
"Whose orders does he follow?"
Aelinor's face changed.
"Prince Aemond," her voice rose slightly, "this is His Grace's command."
"His Grace."
Aemond repeated the words.
He spoke gravely.
"Queen Aelinor. Do you understand how important this battle is?"
Aelinor did not answer.
Aemond continued.
"Rook's Rest is the only rebel stronghold in the Crownlands. Lord Staunton has publicly declared his loyalty to Rhaenyra and refuses to recognize Aegon as king. If we lose this battle, the Blacks' supporters will be emboldened. Those who support us will be badly shaken."
He paused.
"Do you understand?"
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