Inside the Small Council chamber, everyone was gathered. After talking with Aemma and spending the night thinking about the disturbing and unusual visit I received, I decided that addressing the subject openly would be the best choice.
Lord Corlys Velaryon, Lord Lyman Beesbury, my brother Daemon, the Hand of the King Otto Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Harrold Westerling, and Grand Maester Mellos were all seated at the table.
"I called you here to speak of the two enemies that have been plaguing the borders and the interests of the Seven Kingdoms," I began, folding my hands over the table. "The first is the Triarchy, which has been mainly disrupting the routes and enterprises of Lord Corlys. And the second... is the Wildling King from the other side of the Wall."
The silence in the room was absolute for a moment.
"I managed to find a solution for both," I continued, keeping my voice firm. "Queen Aemma and I managed to contact this Wildling King... and he is not so wild after all. We managed to make an agreement. He said that, in exchange for being left in peace, for not suffering attacks from the North or the Night's Watch, and in exchange for food, he and his men will not loot, steal, or go to war with the Seven Kingdoms. They won't even try to cross the Wall. And, as a gesture of goodwill, I asked him to face the Triarchy in the Stepstones. And... he accepted."
The features around the table changed rapidly from confusion to shock.
"In short, the Crown and the North will not attack him. In exchange, he will receive food and will fight against the Triarchy. I saw this as an excellent political solution. The Free Cities will not be able to claim that Westeros is going to war directly, after all, it will merely be a dispute between 'pirates and barbarians'."
The first to speak was Otto Hightower, disbelief stamped on his face. "My King... to take measures of such magnitude, the Council was not summoned even once!"
Daemon's sarcastic voice cut him off immediately: "And since when does the King need to ask permission from the Hand to make decisions, Otto? You are merely an advisor. Know your place."
Otto frowned, but before he could retort, Corlys Velaryon's voice sounded, much more neutral and calculating than I imagined. I thought the Sea Snake would have many complaints, but he was precise in his words.
"Your Grace," said Corlys, leaning forward. "I do not disagree with your measures and I even find them... astute. But since when do the wildlings have ships capable of fighting the Triarchy's fleet? And will they really be able to contain them?"
"That was a surprise to me as well, Lord Corlys," I answered honestly. "But, apparently, they have ships. And as I said, it is a gesture of goodwill on their part. About him containing the Triarchy alone, I cannot guarantee anything... but we can let them wear each other down. If the wildlings kill the pirates, we win. If the pirates kill the wildlings, we also win."
"A good decision, my King. We can at least see how they will act," said Corlys, a smirk appearing on his lips. It seemed that, after so much time frustrated with my inertia, he was finally satisfied with something.
"My King," called Lord Beesbury, adjusting his robes. "And what about the food? We don't know how many they are, and I believe this Wildling King is not a very... reasonable person regarding the consumption of the Crown's supplies."
"To unite the wildlings and still have the organization to use ships to face the Triarchy, such a man cannot be normal," Daemon observed, his eyes shining with genuine interest.
"He is not normal, not one bit..." I murmured, remembering the monstrous eagle. "And I believe they need a lot of food. According to him, the need for supplies will only last for a year; after that, he will be able to pay for their sustenance himself through looting and other enterprises."
"And how will he pay?" inquired Grand Maester Mellos, suspicious.
"That is something I do not know, Grand Maester. But I believe we can feed them initially and see the result in the Stepstones. We will evaluate how their actions will affect the Triarchy and decide whether we should continue with the agreement or not."
I looked at all of them. "Do any of you have anything else to add?" I asked, with a decisive tone that I rarely used.
Lord Beesbury cleared his throat. "A single question, Your Grace. How many wildlings are there? And how much food do they want?"
"I believe there are more than fifty thousand wildlings under his command. But not all are warriors, obviously."
"Fifty thousand?! That is quite a lot, Your Grace, and if the plan is to keep them fed for a year, the expenses for the Iron Throne will be exorbitant," said Otto, quickly doing the math.
"I believe we can do a three-month trial and see the results," suggested Corlys Velaryon. "If the results in the Stepstones are satisfactory and my routes are clean again, House Velaryon is willing to share the costs of sending grain with the Crown."
"Then it is settled."
"Your Grace, before adjourning," Otto intervened. "Since you managed to contact this Wildling King, could we not meet him in person? We need to see if he is at least civilized, if we can really trust him for such a task."
Instead of disagreeing with the Hand of the King as usual, Daemon agreed. "My brother, I must say I am also extremely curious to see the face of this Wildling King."
I let out a heavy sigh. "I will see if he agrees to come here. Anything else? Or can we adjourn for today?"
Everyone remained silent.
"Then we are adjourned," I stated, already standing up and withdrawing from the room. The coming days would be exhausting. We would have a lot to organize.
Twelve days laterYear 108 A.C.
POV: Denovan
In the distance, King's Landing appeared on the horizon. I wasn't wearing my characteristic heavy armor, but rather simple and reinforced leather clothes. My worn and reliable axe was strapped to my back. This time, Fenrir was by my side, lying patiently on the deck of the drakkar, while Heindall rested at the top of the mast, observing the waters.
We were almost there. All the drakkars we had were being used. Our six ships moved in unison towards King's Landing. The sails of some bore the faded and washed-out coats of arms of the Ironborn squids or the Manderly merman. Others were just simple white or black cloths with patches.
Seeing the enormous capital not too far away, I pulled the horn I had carried with me since always and blew it.
Fuuuuuuuum!
The deep sound echoed over the waters.
"Prepare yourselves, men! We are arriving. Today we will have a feast from the King of the South!" I bellowed to the crew.
I had brought my current fleet: six ships and ninety men. The most lethal, insane, and disciplined warriors that Scalebay possessed.
According to my recent agreement with Viserys, I was calmer. Three months. I had three months to get more ships, loot the Triarchy, and prove that his investment in this war would not be a waste. I would do this, and afterward, everything would become easier. We would have food and a sustainable way to maintain ourselves. It was all we needed.
Seeing the port getting closer and closer, I calculated that in perhaps fifteen minutes we would be anchoring. I just had to wait. In the meantime, I sent Heindall to fly ahead. As confident as I was that there wouldn't be an ambush, I preferred to take a look and, as a bonus, warn the King of my arrival in a way he wouldn't forget.
I was excited. Viserys said he would give a good meal to me and my men — to all of them —, and that he wished to see me personally. Well... it cost nothing. Since he would invest in me, he would have this gesture of goodwill from me and a glimpse of our strength.
Feeling my excitement (and probably the hunger of all the rustic warriors around), I saw the water bubble beside the ship. Orochi poked her head slightly out of the water. The colossal serpent was agitated.
But she quickly sank back down, hiding in the depths. And it wasn't because I asked. It wasn't out of fear or apprehension of what was in the skies. It was because she was feeling challenged.
I looked up and saw it. A honey-yellow dragon descended from the clouds in a graceful flight. If it were a gigantic red dragon, like Daemon's, or old Vhagar, I would be genuinely afraid of losing my life and the lives of my men. But it was Syrax. The young Princess Rhaenyra's dragon would not attack us without reason, and there was no reason for Viserys to send his little daughter to burn us.
"That is a dragon, men!" I yelled, pointing to the sky, genuinely excited. It was the first time I was seeing one in person.
My men, however, did not share my tourist-like admiration. They immediately drew their axes and short swords, looking fiercely at the creature that made a low pass near us, making the drakkars rock with the wind from its wings.
"Hahahaha!" laughed Morn, loud and clear, breaking the tension. He had just arrived at Scalebay, but, knowing I would leave for the south, he made sure I fulfilled the promise to show him the world beyond the snow... and these mythical creatures.
"You really told the truth, boss... Hahaha, look at the size of that flying thing!" he bellowed from the neighboring drakkar, shaking one of the Marcas warriors by the shoulders while looking at me with wide eyes.
Then, the murmurs among the wildlings began.
"Who do you think would win in a fight?" "The King's Naga or that flying lizard?" "I think the Naga. She seems to be thicker and bigger."
Listening to the conversation, I couldn't help but analyze it too. If it were against Syrax, Orochi would certainly win. Her body was absurdly strong, she had intelligence compared to a human's, excellent terrestrial and aquatic mobility, speed... and venom. Her blood was acid, and her teeth released enough toxin to totally paralyze a 70-ton whale in less than five minutes. Syrax was too young for that battle.
Now, if it were Vhagar... then Orochi would die easily, as long as the old and colossal dragon managed to catch her before the serpent slithered into the depths of the sea.
"Men!" I called out loud, silencing them instantly. "I don't want to hear a peep about the Naga while we are in this city. It is still too early to show all our cards."
One or two threatened to grumble.
"If any of you open your mouths about this, then..."
I didn't need to finish the sentence. Fenrir, the direwolf at my side, stood up. He growled low, showing his frightening fangs, and emitted a sound that was a mixture of a muffled bark and a bear's roar. The men swallowed hard.
"Keep quiet about it for now. Understood?"
With the crew warned, I closed my eyes. Heindall was already in the Iron Throne room. I projected part of my consciousness into the eagle's body to have one last prior contact with the King.
POV: Viserys Targaryen
I felt Heindall's heavy paws and the sound of the metal claws scratching the stone floor of the Throne Room. I was seated on the Iron Throne. As soon as the eagle landed in the hall, the Kingsguard protecting me unsheathed their swords, surrounding the creature and pointing their blades at it.
"Do not do that. Sheathe your weapons, it is an order from your King," I commanded, raising my hand.
"Such a creature is extremely dangerous, Your Grace. And demonic," warned Ser Harrold Westerling, his face tense, without fully lowering his blade.
"Do not worry, Ser Harrold. Heindall will not do anything for now," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, although the sight of that abnormal bird still gave me chills.
I looked directly into the eagle's large golden eyes. "I believe you are already arriving," I said.
The creature did not reply with the hoarse and forced human voice this time. It seemed that the "Beast King" had chosen not to speak in front of my guards — a wise decision, considering that the Faith of the Seven would accuse him of witchcraft before sunset.
Instead, the eagle let out a sharp cry, natural to a bird of prey. Piaaaaa!
The guards tensed their weapons again, startled by the loud sound that echoed through the hall.
I made a firmer gesture for them to lower their swords once and for all. "I will send the Lord Commander to welcome you at the port, then."
The eagle made a sharp movement with its head that looked like a nod of agreement. Then, it opened its dark wings and flew rapidly towards the large window, disappearing into the city sky.
A few minutes later, the heavy doors of the hall opened. A messenger entered hurriedly.
"Your Grace! Six ships of exotic appearance are approaching our port."
"I know. I was already expecting them," I replied, rising slowly from the Iron Throne. I looked at my Lord Commander. "Ser Harrold, you and a small detachment of guards will receive our guests at the port. And I ask, as clearly as possible, that you treat them with respect. I do not need a bloody battle starting today on my docks. Am I clear?"
"As you wish, Your Grace," Harrold nodded, his tone serious and professional.
"Great. Take their leader to the Small Council chamber. I will be there waiting, along with the other lords," I said, already walking down the steps of swords. The King Beyond the Wall had finally arrived at King's Landing.