BtM Chapter 31: Daemon III

There are certain benefits to having a reputation like his. This Daemon knew well.

He learned this when tall, proud men cowered before the frail form of his grandsire. He saw it when flocks of smallfolk walked the streets of King's Landing to mourn his father's death without ever having seen him. And he felt it when no one could bear to look him in the eye anymore. If there was one lesson Daemon had learned in his life, it was that reputation matters.

So, he had to admit, he was begrudgingly impressed with his younger nephew’s composure. The boy sat across from him, showing no signs of fidgeting, not shifting his gaze sideways in fear, and his hands were steady as he tilted the flagon of wine to fill his cup.

Not that Aegon was entirely calm. Daemon, seasoned in dealing with glorified mummers and vain schemers, noticed the slight tension in Aegon's smile, the nearly imperceptible winces when their eyes met, and the way he played with a metal ring on his pinky finger.

“I have heard much of your recent exploits, uncle,” Aegon said. “They say you managed to acquire a Valyrian sword. For House Targaryen to possess three such weapons is perhaps the greatest boon it could gain. May I dare ask who is to be granted the honor of wielding it?”

Daemon huffed. “Frankly, I myself do not know yet.”

That was somewhat untrue. He originally planned to leave it to one of his sons or daughters, yet every time the thought crossed his mind, the face of a cheeky brown-haired boy haunted him.

“Only time will tell, I guess,” Daemon continued. “What about you, nephew? The last time I ruled over these islands, they were not this organized. I see leadership suits you.”

Aegon’s smile turned sardonic. “I have great advisors.”

Daemon merely hummed in response.

“Anyhow, uncle, with your position and experience, many rumors and news must find their way to you. I heard the Triarchy aims to build a capital?” Aegon broke the awkward silence.

“They’re calling it Dāez,” Daemon chuckled loudly. “The three whores name their so-called capital after freedom. Whoever came up with that name must have a great sense of irony!”

“Quite,” Aegon responded. “I may not know as much as you, but I’ve heard they are recruiting sellsword companies to train their levies into a professional army.” His voice turned grave. “The Triarchy claims the greatest amount of raw resources and human souls within their midst. I am no military expert, but even I can surmise if their army is even remotely competent, they’ll be the greatest land force in western Essos.”

Daemon paused to think.

In Daemon’s opinion, military forces could be divided into three types: Sea, Land, and Sky.

In terms of sea strength, any living man in Essos or Westeros would name Braavos. The city claimed the highest number of ships among any other force, and their Arsenal could make enough more to drown the rest. The only thing limiting the size of Braavos’s navy was the number of their sailors, who had numbers and skills of their own.

On land, things were more complicated. Westeros naturally claimed the greatest land force in the world. Their numbers alone would overwhelm all Essosi cities, let alone the fact that, on an open field, the heavily armored knights of the Seven Kingdoms could sweep through any army. Yet the Seven Kingdoms’ footmen and archers were of much lower quality. Before his nephew’s purple cloaks, typical infantry and archers were comprised of untrained levies and local hunters. The number of professionally trained non-cavalry was limited to the few guards lords kept to defend their lands.

But land forces depended on one thing more than any other: logistics. Armies were gold gobblers. You had to equip, feed, and arrange travel methods for every man and woman. The larger the army, the more moving parts were involved, increasing the cost even further.

As for the sky? Dragons ruled it, and unlike the land or sea, the sky held no borders.

The Three Whores already spent enough gold on sellswords to not only feed and equip them but also allow them significant profit. It was only their shortsightedness that had stopped them from forming their own armies, their reluctance to invest in untrained masses paling before the convenience of an already trained and equipped force.

Yet it seemed their sights no longer looked so near.

“I heard much the same,” Daemon said. “Their new army seems to be comprised primarily of footmen, inspired by the old Ghiscari lockstep legions and the current Unsullied.” Maybe even the purple cloaks. “A standing army will always be unable to contend with heavy cavalry, yet the Unsullied already showed their usefulness by repelling a khalasar. That is the issue.”

Daemon took a sip from his cup.

“If the Dothraki allow the Triarchy to build their armies undeterred, then the Three Whores may finally escape the horse lords’ yoke. And in return, the riches of the land would become available to their grasping hands.”

Aegon frowned. “I see. If I’m correct, the Dothraki do not farm, nor mine, so all those riches, all those resources just lie there, waiting for the picking.” A picture seemed to form in his head. “Empires claimed their power from those same riches. The Rhoynar, for example. If the Triarchy receives access to those riches…”

Daemon nodded. “Then their standing among the Free Cities will skyrocket. But that is no issue of ours. Dragons grant us unfettered strength.”

Aegon’s expression shifted at Daemon’s last comment. Noticing something strange, Daemon decided to push.

“Why the worry? The Iron Throne signed a treaty with the Triarchy; the magisters would be foolish to break it.”

Aegon’s gaze turned conflicted. He seemed to debate internally before finally coming to a decision.

“There are certain… undercurrents to this situation,” Aegon grudgingly explained. “If you could deduce all this from your position, others surely have too. Before I left for this island, my brother informed me about some plans.”

“What plans do you speak of?”

Aegon hesitated, taking frantic sips of his drink.

“I endanger my position by telling you this, you must understand. My role as Lord Governor may be symbolic, but I value it deeply. So I expect the utmost secrecy from you, uncle.”

Daemon made a show of zipping his mouth shut.

“Nothing to fear from me, nephew.”

Aegon sighed. “Baelon said Braavos is distressed over the Triarchy’s changes. They had supported his conquest to break their morale, yet no one expected the Three Daughters would emerge more centralized. Before this, the Triarchy was not considered a danger due to their inner turmoil. Yet while they are currently weakened, they have centralized authority.” A look of distress marred the boy’s face. “It is likely that Braavos will take advantage of their current naval superiority to engage in conflict. If that happens, the Stepstones will be in the middle of it, and I will have to deal with the issue.”

“Quite a conundrum.”

Aegon gulped down the rest of his cup. “A conundrum indeed.” He then stared Daemon in the eye. “Which is why I have a proposition for you, more of a deal, really.”

Daemon leaned back, his eyes lighting up in interest. “Is that so?”

“Indeed.” Aegon suddenly stood up.

He moved to a drawer and took out a map, creating space on the table to display it.

Daemon looked down at it; it was a map of the Stepstones.

Aegon pointed to one of the larger islands, one quite close to Tyrosh. “I wish to give you Sunstone.”

Outwardly, Daemon raised an eyebrow, but inwardly he was befuddled. Even as Lord Governor, he doubted his nephew had the authority to grant him the island, and the way he phrased it made it seem more like a burden than a gift.

“You intend to give me an island?” he asked.

Aegon nodded. “I know my role, uncle. I am to be a figurehead for our family, a boy with a dragon to cement our resolve to keep the Stepstones. But I wish to be more than that.” His face hardened with resolve. “I know my capabilities. I am young and inexperienced, and while I have a decent hand in the yard, I lack the discipline and natural talent to excel in the lists. As second sons, we must cement our legacy instead of having it handed to us.

“And if I am to do so, I must excel in my role as Lord Governor. Yet again, I lack the experience to excel in administration, but most importantly, I lack the reputation to have men follow me. This is why I hope to borrow yours.”

Aegon turned back to the map.

“This island, while relatively barren, is close to the Triarchy. With enough renovations, warehouses, fortifications, and a port, considering our strategic lack of tariffs and lower taxes, many ships will dock there instead of Tyrosh to recuperate, making it a valuable position.” He explained. “Yet it is also precarious. Its proximity to Tyrosh means that, in the case of conflict between the Three Sisters and Braavos, it will be subject to increasing scrutiny and danger. Of course, the issues could be solved by garrisoning a large portion of my new fleet, as my advisors counsel, but I

 would rather use those ships in other ways.”

An image began to form in Daemon’s mind. “So you aim to borrow my reputation to scare off any opposition.”

Aegon nodded. “Precisely. I may not have the authority to grant you the land, but I believe I can convince my brother and father to do so.” He looked again at Daemon. “We are both second sons, uncle. While we are princes, and you are a man of particular renown, neither of us has a legacy to leave to our children and their children.” He continued. “Your stepchildren already have their future determined. Jacaerys will head House Velaryon, and when he does, he can secure land for his brothers Lucerys and Joffrey. But what of your issue? I’m offering you the solution. The island may be distant, but it is rich. All you have to do to make it yours is visit, maybe once a year, to scare off the Essosi, and in return, you will receive what countless second sons dream of.”

“What say you?” Aegon finally asked. Once his obviously prepared speech ended, he was noticeably more nervous than moments ago.

Daemon made a show of staying silent, thinking about his words.

To be honest, Aegon had the right of it. The issue of his own inheritance had plagued his mind since he held his boy Aegon; it was all he could think of.

There was the issue of House Royce, which he technically held claim over. But the land, while rich, was filled with vassals that had little love for him and his ilk, a significant obstacle to contesting his claim. Additionally, if Aegon were to take on the role, he’d have to change his surname to Royce, and he’d rather drown in the Tears of Lys than let that happen.

In the end, loath as he was to admit it, the deal was favorable. He was never a disciple of economics, copper counting never being his forte, yet even he could see the signs of what was to come.

His older nephew’s discoveries and changes were morphing the landscape of the relationship between Essos and Westeros. Even now, more ships docked empty in Westerosi cities, heading to eastern lands to sell their cargo instead of the opposite.

Steel, grain, dyes, gold, ice, spirits, and more were sent in large quantities to Essosi cities, whose people fell in love with new (and most importantly plentiful) Westerosi goods. He could tell because he had defended many a ship from slavers and pirates over the last few moons.

He was also present during the negotiations over the islands' ownership, so he was aware of the strategy to develop the barren archipelago. With fewer restrictions and Aegon’s queer new fleet escorting gaggles of merchant fleets, even the useless islands would find value. Maybe not as much as relatively large settlements like Duskendale or Maidenpool, but definitely more than, say, Rosby or Tarth.

Daemon wordlessly stood up and walked to the exit. As the door was being opened, he turned to the visibly disappointed teenager. “Your idea holds merit, nephew. Let us see where it goes.”

Daemon inwardly smiled as he ordered a servant to lead him to his quarters, hearing the relieved gasp of his nephew and his form falling into his chair.

‘Hah! Still got it,’ he mused.

The next week, when he reached King’s Landing, Daemon was even more assured of his decision when his wife greeted him with his boys at her side.