The Golden Company's Main Camp. 294 AC.
Ser Axel Arryn / Paymaster of the Golden Company.
He had not expected to et a prince of a fallen dynasty here. He had never paid much attention to the last of the Targaryens, content enough with rumor and hearsay, and it turned out that had been a mistake. The na of House Targaryen alone had been enough to ignite a small conflict that threatened to swell into sothing far larger.
He did not believe that this fallen Targaryen would manage to convince the Golden Company to break its contract with Myr and sail with him to Westeros, and he had many reasons for thinking so. First and foremost, even setting his own opposition aside, the contract with Myr suited the Company far too well, and he doubted Viserys could outbid it. The prince could promise every man here the seat of a High Lord, but the captains were no fools and would not swallow such nonsense.
The prince himself cut a poor figure. He had the characteristic Valyrian look: violet eyes, silver hair. His face was gaunt, shadows hanging beneath his eyes, his gaze darting about in search of pursuers, his clothes plain. A sword hung at his belt that he clearly never used. His hands had no calluses, and his bearing gave him away entirely. Eleven years of exile had evidently put him through a great deal.
"We welco you, Viserys Targaryen, and offer our gratitude for the feast you have arranged," Strickland greeted him in the customary manner. "What does the King of the Seven Kingdoms seek among humble sellswords?" A ripple of amusent passed through those present at that. Viserys either did not catch the jab or chose to ignore it.
"I have co to offer you a chance," he said, placing particular weight on the last word. "A chance at a better life. A peaceful, comfortable old age. A chance at a legacy." Not bad. He had their attention.
"You were driven from the Seven Kingdoms, but now you may return with , and your cris will be forgiven. The Golden Company will not return to Westeros as rebels. You will return as liberators, as restorers, as heroes!" He had so asure of oratorical skill, Axel had to admit.
"Stand with now and help reclaim my throne. As the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, I will restore your lands, your titles, and shower you with honors."
That was far enough.
"Your Grace," Axel could not resist the irony, "the promise of titles, lands, and honors is all well and good, but we are sellswords."
"Yes, you are welco to hire us to reclaim your throne," Mandrake added, "anything you like, provided you have the coin." Judging by the prince's contorted expression, he did not.
"When I have reclaid my throne, I can promise double paynt, no, triple. You will have your riches and your lands. All I need is an army and the initial push. My allies will rally to and together we will crush the usurper."
"You have no money, no strength, no allies. Not a single Great House will back you. You have nothing to your na. Investing in you is a pointless exercise." Strickland moved to put an end to the conversation, but Viserys only grew more unbridled.
"The Martells, the Tyrells, the Crownlands, the lords of the Narrow Sea, most of the lords of the Riverlands, even so in the Stormlands and the Vale fought for House Targaryen, and they are ready to rise again. They need a banner, a man to unite them! The mont we land, they will co over to our side one after another."
"I cannot claim to know every detail of affairs in Westeros," Strickland said, "but there is soone here who understands the situation there better than anyone present." Another small act of spite aid at Axel. "Ser Arryn, would you be so good as to dispel our misconceptions about the Sunset Kingdom?"
"What could an Arryn of Gulltown possibly know!" Targaryen snapped.
"Arryn of Gulltown, not much. The Heir to the Vale, a great deal." It was satisfying to watch the prince's face lengthen. "As long as Doran Martell leads his house, the armies of Dorne will not march without a decisive advantage in strength. The Tyrells cannot support the Targaryens without their own vassals tearing them apart for it. Every lord of the Crownlands and the Narrow Sea was either killed, driven into exile, or beca King Robert's staunch allies. What remains are cowards and flatterers. The remaining Targaryen loyalists were subjected to brutal repression. Their property was confiscated, their Houses reduced to the rank of landed knights. Whatever support there might be, it will not amount to more than ten thousand levies at best." He was not lying in his assessnt. Those who had stood with the Targaryens to the very end were now shadows of what they had once been.
"You cannot trust the words of a traitor! He is twisting the facts to keep from MY THRONE!" The cruelty of reality has a way of breaking the minds of drears.
"I trust Axel. I'll ask you to leave." The general closed the matter.
"NO, I AM THE KING!!! You cannot throw out like so dog!" When it beca clear he would not leave of his own accord, the guards posted at the tent entrance dragged him out.
"Ha. The Targaryens have fallen really far if they're begging sellswords for help," Maar pronounced.
"I have a toast," Axel said. The eyes of those assembled turned to him. "I wish to raise this cup to the man who organized this feast. Let us drink to King Viserys. Let us drink to the Beggar King!" The company found the title very much to their taste.
"TO THE BEGGAR KING!"
...
He had already prepared the hearth to receive another of his father's letters, but the contents gave him pause. He spotted the hidden cipher. Fifteen minutes of decoding later, he read the true ssage. In it, his father urged him to return to King's Landing at once and to bring as many soldiers as he could. It was not written plainly, but sothing vast and ill was coming.
His father would never stoop to such a covert thod simply to call him ho. Over all these years he had written much, but he had never deliberately misled him. And the request to bring n confird how serious things were. If he could not summon n from the Vale directly, then the enemy was already within King's Landing and might grow suspicious at the attempt.
Whatever disagreents and misunderstandings lay between them, he still loved his father, and he would not leave him to face his enemies alone. It seed the return ho would have to co sooner than planned.
...
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