Five men sat in council — the core of Ravenshade's power.
Sebas, the Maester — calm, loyal, and impossibly wise. His years in service had granted him access to knowledge forbidden in Oldtown.
Lord Darnor, Master-at-Arms — a hulking man of forty-five, with hair like iron filings and a face carved from stone. He had fought in the Stepstones War and commanded the Vale's elite infantry under Thalen.
Lady Bellmire, the Spymaster and Steward — lean, sharp-eyed, and unfailingly polite. Her web of informants stretched from Braavos to King's Landing.
Lord Galdun, Captain of the Castle Guard — disciplined, unyielding, and pragmatic. A soldier's soldier, he commanded absolute loyalty from the keep's defenders.
Lord Alderic Ravenshade, the heir — their young lord, carrying the voice of the bloodline.
Alderic paced slowly. "If Robert falls, who stands next?"
Sebas replied, "By law — his brothers. Lord Stannis and Lord Renly."
Bellmire smirked faintly. "Law and wisdom seldom agree."
Darnor leaned forward. "Stannis is hard as steel, and just as cold. He is lawful to a fault — but lacks warmth, charm, or mercy. He'd be a king feared, not loved."
Galdun grunted. "And Renly?"
Bellmire chuckled. "Charming, yes. But a dreamer. The court adores him, though many whisper of his… preferences. His affection for Ser Loras Tyrell is no secret, and that makes him unfit in the eyes of the Faith."
At the same time he reflects on about Baratheon dynasty.Robert, a great warrior and charismatic man in his youth, took the throne through conquest in the war. After the war and following Lyanna's death, Robert married Cersei Lannister to cement an alliance with House Lannister to hold the kingdoms together, but he mistreated her and the marriage was loveless.Robert also had two younger brothers, Stannis and Renly. He and Cersei had three children: Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. However, unbeknownst to Robert and most of the realm, all three were actually fathered by Cersei's twin brother, Jaime Lannister. On the other hand, Robert had many bastards from other women. since the end of the civil war. he is more interested in drinking, whoring and hunting than ruling his kingdom.
He revels in the glory days of the rebellion. He leaves running the kingdom largely to his Small Council. Where if there were any complication in the future turmoil he was not sure what will happen. Robert's Small Council members were either corrupt people or disloyal conspirators who actively aided the Lannisters in putting Joffrey on the throne, and Varys has always been a Blackfyre Targaryen loyalist; Pycelle had already betrayed the previous king for the Lannisters; and Littlefinger was most loyal to himself - while keeping half the City Watch, including Commander Janos Slynt, bought and paid for his ambition.
Alderic was silent for a long moment. "Then the realm has no true king — only players."
He rubbed his temples, remembering his father's words and the vision he saw in the crypt: the Vale bathed in crimson dawn, and a raven flying over a burning keep.
"I saw it," Alderic said softly. "Fire in the Vale… blood on the stones. A warning, perhaps."
Sebas's expression hardened. "It may be tied to Lady Lysa's plans. She prepares to summon all the Vale lords to swear fealty to her son as Defender of the Vale. Her instability may lead to conflict — especially if others refuse."
Bellmire added, "I will order our spies to check if the mountain clan raids and other side to see if something stirs them."
He turned back to his council. "The time has come for me to leave Ravenshade for a while. Alderic is personaly going to use his magic for first time on others different from his prison experiments to cause illness before the lords gather in the Eyrie
Alderic extended his hand, his eyes faintly glowing with the magic he had inherited — the ancient art he had only ever used in solitude during his prison experiments. The air shimmered faintly as he channeled the spell, focusing on the trace of her aura woven into the paint.
A pulse of dark light rippled across the table. When it faded, Alderic spoke softly, almost to himself. "It is to cause illness of the mind. It's effects are remnants of a slow toxin — controlled, subtle. Someone can lookout for to keep her from eyes."
The room fell silent. For the first time, Alderic had revealed a piece of his hidden power — and each of them felt the chill of what it meant.
Alderic's voice was steady. "We must prevent chaos before it blooms. Lysa Arryn is a pawn of Baelish — I will remove her from play."
Bellmire nodded slowly.Darnor crossed his arms.
Sebas added thoughtfully, "With Lysa bedridden, her son could be placed under House Royce's regency. The Royces are honorable and loyal to the Vale's traditions — they would stabilize it."
Alderic agreed. "Do it."
The lords bowed their heads.
Sebas then raised another matter. "And what of the King's council, my lord? Their corruption festers."
Alderic's eyes narrowed. "Let one die, and the others will turn on each other."
"Who?" Bellmire asked.
"The Grand Maester," Alderic said coldly. "Pycelle has outlived his virtues. He watched Arryn die and did nothing. Let him follow him to the grave."
Sebas inclined his head. "A natural death, then. Peaceful and quiet."
Alderic nodded. "And his replacement?"
Sebas smiled faintly. "Maester Gormon — of House Tyrell blood. His appointment will inflame old rivalries in the council and draw the Tyrells deeper into the game. It will divide them from the Lannisters."
"Good," Alderic said. "Let them tear at each other while we stand ready."
The council murmured approval. The plan was set.
As the meeting ended, Alderic looked upon his lords — the five shadows of his House.
The world above played their game of thrones, but in the depths of the Vale, the true game had begun
That night, after the meeting ended, each of his vassals lingered in private thought.
Lord Darnor walked the training yard, his hands clasped behind his back. The boy has courage, he thought, but courage without cunning is a blade without an edge. Yet in his heart, he vowed to protect Alderic — not for duty, but for the memory of Thalen, whom he had followed through fire and shadow alike.
Lady Bellmire returned to her chambers, lighting a single candle. He will learn, she mused. And when he does, the game will shift in ways even Littlefinger could not predict. Her loyalty was genuine, but her ambition whispered that Ravenshade's rebirth could be her legacy too.
Lord Galdun knelt in the chapel, whispering his oaths to the old gods. He is untested, he admitted, but he has Thalen's eyes. That same calm before a storm.
Maester Sebas, alone in his tower, looked over the ledgers of shadows and secrets. "You have your father's heart, my lord," he murmured to the empty air. "May the gods grant you his wisdom — and not his fate."
Alderic rose from his chair and walked toward the open window. His mind turned to his past — the days when he had fled Ravenshade after his mother's death, wandering from the Reach to the Stormlands, even across the North. He had fought as a mercenary, sailed with smugglers, slept under strange stars. Those years of wandering had hardened him, yet standing here now, he felt the same ache of loss, the same question: What was my purpose?