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BtM Chapter 30: Aegon V
🕑 Added 2024-06-26 00:47:58 +0000 UTCAegon Targaryen sat at the head of the table in his solar, surrounded by his advisors. The room was filled with the murmur of their voices and the rustling of parchments. He listened intently as they discussed the current state of the island, taking in their wisdom and experience.
"We need to fortify the eastern shore," one advisor said, pointing to a map spread across the table. "The raids have been relentless."
"That is not going to be an issue for long, Prince Daemon has already dealt with most of them, what we need is to upgrade the ports, as long as our ships cannot dock comfortably in the islands, we won’t be able to arrange a significant naval presence to scare the rest." added another. "The sooner the fleet is able to be stationed in the Stepstones in full force, the better.”
Aegon nodded, trying to absorb their advice. He felt a pang of insecurity; at fifteen, he was still learning and unsure of himself. He wanted to contribute but found himself too inexperienced. "How long until the port on Bloodstone get done?”
The man turned to Aegon, one of the acolytes of the Workshop, he noticed. “Using the method used in building the new ports in Dragonstone, we were able to use liquid rock to create a solid foundation for the docks. However, what the previous… residents of the island built could barely be called a dock; in fact the island lacks the favorable positions to build a good harbor, so we have to build our own fortification against the natural elements.” He glances at his parchment. “It is quite fortunate that this island is rich in limestone, so we could produce our own liquid rock, the construction should be finished soon.
“Good.” He nods, eager to see his ship. The Sun’s Glare proved to be too much of a beast to stay in the island, so it’s still floating on the shores of Dragonstone. “Is there any way to speed this process?”
The advisors associated with the tasks looked at each other in concern, trading meaningful glances, after a while, they seemingly came to an unspoken agreement where the previous one began to hesitantly speak. “You grace, since… Well, since you asked, we could considerably speed up the construction if we were to…” He glanced to his peers for validation, before turning back again with a gulp. “If we were to acquire the help of your dragon, your grace.”
Aegon glanced around in confusion, not because he didn’t know what was implied, but because he knew naught about the reason for their distress. “And how are we to do so?”
Something about his reply seemed to assuage their worries, as the man swiftly took out a map of the island and showcased it on the table.
He pointed at a particular spot. “This is where the original… dock, was built. The pirates occupying this island may be uneducated but they knew the basics, they built it with a small rocky chain of cliffs at the back, shielding it from the wind.” He explains. “But the waves on the shore are particularly strong, so we need to shield them from that side.”
Another man piped up from the side. “The original plan is to build a series of barriers in the water to weaken the flow of the water, but due to the strength of the waves both the danger and the cost of materials and effort would be significant.” He says. “But, if we were to get the help of your dragon, your grace.” He hesitated. “We’d be able to simply dig into the cliff, creating a protected area for the port.”
Aegon nodded. “Let us go with that approach, send someone to inform me when Sunfyre is going to be needed.” A chance to burn rocks with Sunfyre? That just sounds like a fun time. “As for the residents, are any willing to stay?”
Aside from the previous pirates and smallfolk previously living in this island, his brother’s plan was to hire as many workers from outside as possible to work on the occupation, before hopefully convincing them to settle in the Stepstones.
“This land is unsuitable for farming, so the majority depend on other trades to pay for their livelihoods.” Another advisor spoke. “I’m afraid your grace that with the current conditions of the islands, few are willing to permanently stay here. Bloodstone shows promise however, people feel safer with you here, your Grace.”
By him they mean his dragon.
“However, when our preparations are done, we should see a very great deal of trade channeled through the Stepstones, those present at its onset will see the greatest benefits, which should motivate them to stay more, your Grace.” He finished
Aegon nods once again, it was expected, to be honest. They may have built a small castle out of what remained of the previous pirate lord’s residence, but it significantly paled in front of what he was used to. The smallfolk must feel miserable in the small hovel called a town.
“Are there any solutions you could think of concerning this matter, aside from the obvious, of course.” He asks.
The man tilts his head in thought, a finger on his bottom lip. “I guess we could offer other types of benefits, maybe land?” He asks himself. “Aside from the limestone deposits, we have found nothing of import aside from tin and some corals and fish on the sea. The soil is hard and doesn’t let anything grow easily, so offering some of the more skilled commoners small plots of land could be very enticing, especially since we have no need for it.”
Aegon thought on the matter, land is a touchy subject for nobles, but he couldn’t blame the advisor for coming up with the idea.
“Only for the first few settlers, and only useless plots of lands.” He says. “For the other early settlers we will offer to sell some of it in exchange of gold, but no merchants, wouldn’t want them to gobble up what is meant for the smallfolk.”
The man nods in agreement. “Wise, your grace.”
At the mention of fish and corals, Aegon had an idea. “The caravels, they are relatively small and easy to repair, right?” At their nods, he continues. “Can we have some our workers fashion some trawling nets for our idle ones? That should ease some of our food expenses.”
Another man answers. “Possibly, your Grace.” He glances at his parchment, making some mental calculus. “It wouldn’t be feasible for long periods, but it could tide us up while construction is underway.”
“Then do so.” Leaning back on his chair, Aegon presses on the bridge of his nose as if to make his headache to dissipate. “You’re all dismissed; we’re done for the day. Inform me should anything unusual happen.”
“”Yes, your grace.””
These men were skilled, knowledgeable people; yet it took a long time for Aegon to get them to be honest. In the beginning, they often attempted to deceive him in fear of retaliation, it was fortunate that he was able to build a rapport with some of them during his time in Dragonstone.
He huffed. ‘Even with my efforts to seem reliable, they were deathly afraid to mention using his dragon to help in the construction.’ He thought. ‘The Valyrians were famous for using their dragons as something as minor as beasts of burden, why would I be against having Sunfyre melt some boulders?”
As the door closed behind the last advisor, he leaned back in his chair and mused on his situation.
Despite the busy days, the horrible weather, and the mosquitoes that seemed to plague him constantly, he was happier here than he had ever been under his mother's watchful eyes. His new post had been... fulfilling.
He spent hours in his solar, his afternoons were quite calm, so he usually spent them at peace. Reading books, sipping on chilled juice, or simply taking a nap.
A knock on the door interrupted his relaxation. "Enter," Aegon called.
Ser Gaemon Broome stepped in, a son of Alfred Broome, his expression serious. "Your Grace, Prince Daemon and the Ironborn have returned from their campaign against the slavers ships."
Aegon felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. "I will go to receive them," he said, standing and straightening his tunic.
He made his way to the courtyard, where Daemon and the Ironborn were dismounting. Prince Daemon's expression was cold and distant, which is to be expected. Daemon's disapproval of Aegon's Hightower heritage was no secret. The Ironborn, led by Urrigon Greyjoy, Dalton Greyjoy's uncle and regent, wore their arrogance like armor.
"Uncle," Aegon greeted, inclining his head. "Welcome back."
Daemon's eyes flicked over him, unreadable. "Nephew," There was a note of denigration in his tone.
But Aegon effortlessly ignored it, half a lifetime of dealing with his mother, father, and grandfather’s backhanded compliments and stares of disappointment allowed him to do so.
If he wanted to rattle Aegon, his uncle should try much harder.
Urrigon Greyjoy stepped forward, his demeanor haughty. "We bring victory and spoils, young prince. Perhaps one day you will see the battlefield yourself."
Aegon’s eyes narrowed at the veiled insult. "You must be the Greyjoy I’ve heard about.” He nonchalantly replied and shifted his gaze to the young child next to him; whose garments seemed to be splattered with dried bloodstains. “And who is this?”
The child glared impetuously at the prince.
Urrigon let out a cheerful laugh. “That’s the heir to the Iron Islands, that is.” He says. “Barely ten yet already blooded, he’d be terrorizing the Greenlanders soon enough.”
Aegon raises an eyebrow, he was told that the Ironborn were rash and boastful, but to brag about raiding Westerosi men in front of a Targaryen prince is particularly foolish.
He subtly glances at Daemon, noticing his apathy, he resolves himself to dealing with the comment.
“Hopefully not OUR Greenlanders.” He tries to put as much sarcasm into his reply as possible. “Sunfyre dislikes salty meat.”
The comment goes over the child’s head, obviously, but the older Greyjoy’s eyes light up in slight surprise and excitement. “You Targaryens are surely made of tough stuff!” He laughs the comment off.
Aegon turns back to the servants. “The new Keep is still under construction, but we should have enough space to accommodate you inside it.” He says.
Urrigon shows a perfect set of white teeth. “No need.” He puts a hand over Dalton’s head, which the boy swats away. “Greyjoys only sleep at castles they pillage or own; it’d be an affront to the Drowned God otherwise. Although the bread and salt were much appreciated.”
The man’s infuriatingly handsome face turned to Daemon. “Farewell, Rogue Prince.” He extends a hand. “You were truly a terror on the battlefield.”
Daemon stares at him for a second, seemingly hesitating to respond, before he grabbed his wrist in salutations.
They share a “manly” nod, before the Greyjoys saunter out of the keep, the tall frame of the older man looking comical next to the young boy.
“Well, that was that.” He turned to Daemon. "Uncle, if you would join me in my solar, we have much to discuss."
Daemon nodded. "Very well, Aegon."
As the group dispersed to their quarters, Aegon led Daemon to his solar. The room, once filled with the noise of advisors, now felt charged with the unspoken tension between them.
Comments
Niflheim
I think all members of the royal family are called your grace.
Thoughtless
Is aegon the heir now? Why are they calling him “your grace”
