GOT : All Left Behind

"With all this talk of ends and means, do not lose track of intention."​

I had, after completing my duties as (acting) Hand of the (temporarily indisposed) King, and after completing my duties as both a father and then as a prince of the realm, managed to procure a modicum of time in the city. Time I had spent, to the surprise of few adults and the disappointment of many children, in the grand sept atop the hill of Visenya.

There were questions that needed answers.

Answers I had received but continued to occupy my thoughts the following day.

Inside the well-lit sept, both by the mid-day sun outside and the flood of candles adorning every inch of six of the seven altars, the ever-aging old Septon had met with me. As he would meet with any of his parishioners, should they desire it.

"Blame?" he had asked, eyebrows white age rising a few fractions of an inch. "Why would you seek to assign blame?"

"Penance," had been my answer. "I could have done more- should have done more. This entire war, this tragic mess of a wedding, I could have prevented it. The blame is mine, at least in part. I must know how much."

"Any reasonable man would say you did all you could, Your Grace," the old septon said, standing between the twin rows of wooden pews that stretched through the sept. Unsurprisingly for such an opulent sept, they gleamed in the mixed light. "You did not start the war, did not kill your brother, did not violate guest-right. No man can hold you responsible for any of the tragedies."

"But I failed to stop them."

"But you did not swing the sword," the Septon had insisted. "Will we hold all men who once knew a murderer responsible? Will we blame a father for the sins of the son?"

Officially, I was free from blame. Legally, I was devoid of liability. Theologically, I was innocent as any other knight who was married to his sister.

Morally? I did not want to be innocent. I had killed, family friends had died, my sister's wedding had been ruined. All of that, I could have prevented. Why was I not guilty? Why was I not condemned?

Why did the Faith not line up with morality? With what was right?

Or was I wrong?

"Corlys, he is brooding again." I was torn from the thoughts that had occupied my mind -for far longer than they had had any right to- by the voice of a dear friend. Martyn Mooton, I knew. The man who had benefited less from his friendship with a prince than the others in my circle. "Wine will be required."

"Not all problems in life require excessive drink, Martyn," Corlys said with an endless patience that would be the envy of any father. Blessedly, however, he was not yet a father. And would not be for some time.

"It has always worked for me," the Riverlander responded. "Observe."

"Excuse me for having things to ponder," I interrupted while the heir to House Mooton was downing his drink with none of the respect to so fine a vintage. All around me, occupying my solar, my friends and goodbrothers appeared to be utterly without a care in the world. I envied them, I really did.

"Ever the worrywart," Corlys mused. The badge of Master of Ships was displayed with pride on his doublet, the silver badge fitting in quite well among the seahorses of similar color on a blue-green field. The absence of other major jewelry may also have played a part. "Really, you were more fun when you sneaked out at night to tame a dragon."

"You did what?' Braxton asked. He, too, wore a badge of office. That one had been earned less earnestly than Corlys'. But the post of Master of Whispers had needed filling, and who was less offensive than the heir to a vassal of a vassal of the lord of Highgarden? One married to the king's daughter, no less? Inoffensive, trustworthy, and recommended by the (acting) Hand of the (temporarily indisposed) King.

Besides, Saera had been damn near inconsolable after the Dornish had ruined her wedding. And giving her sister's husband a position on the Small Council while her own husband received nothing? It was bad enough that Father was barely responding to the world around him, I did not need to spread that pain.

Oh, would you look at that, I was indulging in nepotism.

"I was young and foolish," I said by way of explanation.

"You are just shy of one and twenty," Corlys mentioned, his voice colored by unbridled smug. "And you still have your moments."

Well, he was not exactly wrong, but he did not need me to confirm that. Instead, I leaned back in my seat, taking in the room around me, and joined in the not entirely polite laughter that filled the room. Gathered around me, in the Hand's solar whose previous occupant's possessions I had moved to storage, were the few souls I considered friends. Two of them were family as well as friends, but they had been friends first.

And we were wasting time ahead of the next meeting of the Small Council. A moment of calm until we were called to work again. Well, three of us were. Martyn and Desmond would not join the meeting with Aemon and Lord Tyrell, but their presence was still highly appreciated.

Together, we could speak as equals. And I loved them for it.

Together, we marched to the chambers of the Small Council once the summons came. Martyn and Desmond did not join us inside, of course, but we had important things to discuss on the way. Things like how great a sacrilege Martyn had committed by chugging Arbor Gold from the late Lord Redwyne's personal stores.

Because someone had apparently been looting those for quite some time.

Tragically, the contents of the meeting of the Small Council were far less amusing.

"The war needs prosecuting," Aemon announced. Though he did not sit at the head of the table, for the king was not yet officially relegated to having a regency, he did take the lead in this meeting. Which, given my experience with my previous meeting, meant that he and Lord Tyrell were at least nominally in accord. Thus, they must have met ahead of time to set an agenda. Good. Some focus was dearly needed. "It is past time that we strike back."

"Strike where, exactly?" I asked. "We hold the coasts and all major rivers. And I suspect the minor rivers have been raided more than once by bored Ironborn."

"Elysar?" Aemon turned to the Grand Maester, as if the reports sent by my garrisons were anything but perfunctory.

"No such information has been reported," the Grand Maester said. "Though I could send a raven…"

"Do so," Aemon instructed. Next, he rolled out a map of Dorne, the very same map Father had studied shortly before Aemon, Baelon, and I had been officially informed about the impending war. "Then I suppose I must open this meeting to discussion."

Silence reigned.

Fantastic.

Someone had to give the first, and thus terrible, idea. Fortunately, I was more than willing to be the fool the realm needed.

"If we cannot strike further at Dorne, and we already hold all mainland routes into Dorne, we must look to the sea," I said, sparing a glance at the map. "Meaning the Stepstones."

"The Stepstones?" Lord Tyrell asked. "What will they avail us?"

"If we take the ones closest to Dorne, we can all but stop their ability to conduct trade with Essos. Or receive aid from abroad." I explained. "And we can secure our own trade routes in the bargain."

"Tempting," Corlys commented, stroking his chin. No doubt he was picturing his regular shipping convoys to Yi Ti no longer needing to fear the pirates of the Stepstones. To be fair, so was I. As far as mental pictures went, it was quite appealing. "The realm could benefit from secure trade."

Wait, this was supposed to be a bad first idea. Why was it good? Had I accidentally had a good idea?

Lord Tyrell, too, looked interested. No surprise there; the only way the Reach could trade with most of northern Essos was through the Stepstones. Yes, this had gotten the attention of the Small Council. Behold, the might of appealing to the coin purse!

"Sounds good," Braxton observed. "Anything we need to be concerned about?"

"The Free Cities, mayhaps," Aemon said. "They might take exception to someone taking over the Stepstones. I'll send some envoys bearing gifts to placate Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh. Mayhaps if we frame it as clearing out pirates on only a select few islands…" he trailed off, allowing Braxton to speak again.

"We could use the opportunity to expand our network of informants in Essos," he added. That, too, was a good idea. His network was, after all, rather limited. Mostly because it was my network. The late Lord Florent had not been the most diligent keeper of records.

"If we send some ambassadors bearing generous gifts, I am sure they will understand," I dismissed the concerns. "That is your department, isn't it Aemon?"

"I will see it done," he said. "Though I am rather concerned about how we will go about attacking the Stepstones. The might of the Crownlands has already been raised, and any further levy will take months. Not to mention our fleets which are currently patrolling the waters around Dorne and ferrying supplies."

Well, that would be a challenge for any man who did not have a not insignificant number of ships in his name and more coin than he knew how to spend. Though I did not want to use personal resources to maintain the state apparatus.

"Corlys?" I asked, making a mental note to stop by the bank to see when the current voyage was due to return. If it took too long, there were always sell-sails… "Can the fleet spare any ships?"

"Since they are somewhere in the Sea of Dorne protecting the next shipment to Lemonwood," he said, clearly thinking about it but unwilling to let the chambers fall silent. "No more than ten. The soldiers need supplies and the Stepstones are close. I cannot spare many."

"What if we recall a few hundred soldiers back to King's Landing?" I asked. "Fewer men in Dorne means fewer supplies to move means more ships for us to use."

"And leave our conquests under-manned?" Lord Tyrell said. "What if Martell launches a counterattack in response?"

"Then what do you suggest?" I asked the Master of Coin in name only. "Another levy? Sellswords and sell-sails?"

Theoretically, the Small Council could call on the household knights and men-at-arms patrolling the Red Keep and Maegor's Holdfast. Practically, had anyone suggested I strip away the men protecting my family I would have established a highly unambiguous precedent for the permanent removal of members of the Small Council.

"Corlys, what about your merchant fleet?" I asked my friend.

"What merchant fleet?" Aemon asked in turn.

"Should be returning from Norvos in a few weeks' time," Corlys said, ignoring my brother's question. "Along with yours."

"Wait, why do both of you have a merchant fleet?" Aemon asked. Opposite him, Lord Tyrell had paled significantly and was filling a goblet of wine. Oh, right, his wife was responsible for getting me enough to coin to start my long list of ventures. Except they hadn't known what I spent my coin on. Since ships were expensive, and my stipend was my only officially reported source of income...

"I needed something to do," I said, as though that explained everything. Truth be told, I did not have much of a plan for what I was going to use that coin for. Or the ships. Most likely, I was going to fold those into the crown's holdings. Something to increase future revenue and diversify those revenue streams. "If we have the matter of transport arranged, we should discuss the troops we will be transporting."

"So you acquired a fleet?" Aemon asked, unwilling to move on to more important things. "Without discussing this with the crown?"

"They are merchant ships," I pointed out. "And I have had them for some time."

"Fine," Aemon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Just... just make sure it is done right."

"What about the soldiers?" I asked, more than a little worried. If my brother was giving me control over this matter... that meant I had to raise troops. I had to have troops of my own. I really did not want to have an army of my own. I could take command, and would gladly do so, but I did not want to have an army. "I do not exactly have an army at my disposal."

"If you have the coin for a fleet, I do not doubt that you have the coin for an army," Aemon said, now transitioning to massaging his temples and reaching for his goblet of wine. "Just please keep us appraised of your potentially treasonous activities."

What?

None of this was treasonous! All I had done was acquire a force that could be used for war without explicit government permission, kept those assets hidden, declined to disclose my sources of revenue, did not pay taxes for several years, purchased large swathes of the city without government approval, let business dictate war...

Actually, now that I thought about it, that was pretty close to treason, wasn't it?

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