The Eminence in GOT-Chapter 35: Act One begins

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***

281 A.D.

Somewhere on the Isthmus

---and may the gods of forests and fields, lakes and streams, lowlands and ravines bless him. Rest in peace, Ilyse Reed. - Howland, now officially head of House Reed, finished reciting the local prayer and cut the rope that secured the coffin over the giant water-filled depression.

The ancestral "crypt" of the main clan of the swamps was to their liking. In fact, it was a giant pit completely filled with clear spring water, the bottom of which did not even reach the sunlight. But the strangeness of this place didn't end there.

It was here that the King of the Isthmus lived - a giant in size, not inferior to an average ship, a lion lizard, which by its very appearance drove my heart into my heels. And as it turned out, he paid no attention to humans at all. Not at all. When I asked Howland why we were still alive and not digested in the guts of this monster, he said only two things that finally threw me into a stupor.

The first was that the lion lizard was the guardian of the Reed family and had kept their burial place for thousands of years.

The second was that the creature was a vegetarian, living off the algae that grew deep in the hollow on the corpses of their clan and, according to legend, had been bred by the Children of the Forest themselves.

So on the way back to the castle, I had many things to think about.

The tournament had ended in a bad way, to say the least.

After Rhaegar's antics, it took me a lot of effort to keep Oberyn from jumping on his brother-in-law in a rage and smashing his face into meat. I understood him perfectly at that moment, though - my fists itched as soon as I looked at Elia, who had tears of resentment and misunderstanding in her eyes. Thank the Gods there were maidens, including my sister, who were able to calm the shocked Princess of Dorne.

Later, the next two days after the tournament, when all the guests were leaving for their fiefdoms, I was in the royal tent several times, accompanying Oberyn, and saw the wound the dragon prince had inflicted on his wife.

Elia Martell has never been in good health. When I first saw her in the Sunspear, she was like a clay statue made by the finest craftsman - beautiful, but very fragile. And that fragility played a very bad joke on her. The birth of two children in a row - Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon - had exhausted her body. In the coming years, she needed peace and quiet to allow her to recover and regain her former beauty.

But Rhaegar's antics put that possibility to rest. When I saw her in the king's tent, bedridden by her weakness, her face haggard and her hair streaked with gray, it was clear to me that Elia would not live much longer.

And that made me furious. As seldom as we saw each other, we could still be called pen pals. She was always kind, educated and gentle. A miracle, not a person.

Seeing all this, I tried to convince Oberyn to transfer her to Dorne under the pretext of meeting relatives and resting after childbirth. And the other prince agreed with me. But there were two unsolvable problems: Rhaegar's refusal to let his wife go, and Elia's own refusal, for whom separation from her children, who would surely not be allowed to go to the Sunspear, was like death.

And the worst part was that Elia was the only one who had suffered from the heir to the Iron Throne.

Yes, his prank, as the minstrels called it, was a scandalous breach of courtly etiquette, clearly perceived as an open courtship. But here the prince's rather peculiar reputation played its part. He and before that was perceived as a man without a king in his head, often acting contrary to many rules for one he understandable motives. Because of this, even Lyanna's fiancé, Robert Baratheon, only laughed at the situation and said that Rhaegar had given his bride her due.

But the brothers of the main culprit, took the gesture of the prince as an attack on the honor of their sister. As a result, Brandon and Eddard Stark had to be held by force, along with Oberyn, to keep them from tweaking Targaryen's face.

So I left the tournament feeling ambivalent. On the one hand, Osgiliath's goods were a hit and I could increase the number of manufactories in the northern part of the city. Plus I had gained customs immunity in Maiden's Pond, Gull City, Hull, and Jade, beating Lords Mouton, Grafton, Estermont, and Velaryon. But all of this was overshadowed by a simple realization - the Seven Kingdoms could now be considered a powder keg with a lit fuse.

Soon Westeros will burst and I will have to be part of it, for my suzerains, the Martells, are too strongly tied to royalty. And I don't have the strength for that.

"I thought, ducking a little so I wouldn't get hit in the forehead with a branch. Still, most of the Isthmus trails were made by lakesmen for themselves, and I, with my height and shoulder span, could barely fit into their small boats and paths.

«How much longer, Howland?

«No." replied the new lord of the marshes, working his oar with a measured stroke and propelling us forward.

As promised, as soon as the tournament was over, I went to Isthmus, to attend Lord Ailis's funeral, taking Reed and a few of the lords hurrying to White Harbor.

Those three squires who had wronged my green acquaintance, I took a very ungentlemanly revenge. The first thing I did was to pit the knights they served against professional horsemen (as in Lianna's case, having bribed the steward), who stripped them to the ground. And then, as if an angel descended from heaven, offered them a bargain. Their squires would compete with Howland in archery, and the loser was to perform the "target-apple" trick of standing with the fruit on his head while being shot at. The knights gave a damn about their charges, of course, but as soon as they saw the bag of ten gold pieces, all their love and support disappeared.

As a result, the three jerks who had decided to mock Reed had gotten their pants dirty twice. The first time when they found out who they were competing with and what the penalty was for losing (and they knew who the winner among the shooters was), and the second time when they felt the apple on their heads being pierced by an arrow just millimeters from their scalps.

"Yes, I'm a sadist," I thought, looking at Howland, who was still as satisfied as a cat that had eaten a lot of sour cream. Still, any man would be pleased to take revenge on an offender, paying him back a hundredfold, and the local aristocracy was no exception. It could be said that most of them had the Blackwoods and Brackens to avenge old wrongs and create new ones.

Our small company, consisting of myself, the Reed family, and their vassals, arrived at the Watch-on-Serowater a few hours later. There, having dined on the gifts of the Isthmus, which consisted of river fish cooked in dozens of ways, seaweed, and a local tincture that tasted like aniseed, I bade farewell to my hospitable hosts and sailed home, taking with me the lion lizards I had captured and put to sleep beforehand.

Osgiliath was waiting for me, and there was much to do.

***

282 A.D.

Castle Osgiliath, Valley of the Solar Flame.

«The Year of the True Winter. That's a good name. Very fitting. - Oberyn said in a thoughtful voice, sitting in his usual posture, a glass of wine in his hand and a comfortable chair with a leg over his leg. Still young - he had only recently turned twenty-five - with correct features, fine arched eyebrows and large eyes, black and shining like rare royal amethysts, he didn't look at all like the drunkard and lecher he was.

«What are you talking about? - I asked perplexed, putting the healing potion to my lips. If Oberyn was what you might call a pro-lifer, I was more of a workaholic, always in a hurry. Tall, strong build, pretty face, and not too long black hair that covered my ears. In which gray has already crept in.

«About everything. - Oberyn said sadly, looking through the clear walls of the glass at the shimmering burgundy liquid. - Not only did last year turn out to be a false thaw, but it was as if a real winter had settled in people's hearts.

«You mean the situation in the other kingdoms?

«Yes. It's bad enough we have this foolishness about our Mad King, but Rhaegar's been acting strange lately.

«Did you get the letter from Elia?

«Yes. She says he's been absent from King's Landing, traveling the Kingsguard and the Riverlands. It's not as if he hasn't been spending time with his sister, but he should have his face painted for that. - Oberyn growled the last part of that sentence, shaking his fist in the north. - He had no time for Rhaenys and Aegon, forgetting all about them. Though he used to play with his niece and visit his nephew often.

«Let me guess. - I sighed sadly at this point. - Did it start after that damn tournament?

«Yes. After he recognized that northern savage as the Queen of Love and Beauty.

«And I told you and Doran you shouldn't have agreed to that marriage. - Once again, I've gone back to my old rant, and once again, I've pissed the Prince of Dorne's brains out. - How many times have I told you not to mess with that fucking family? Huh? How many times have I told you this marriage is unequal? That it's the royal family that benefits more, not you.

«Many, many times. - Oberyn stretched tiredly, recognizing the truth of my words long ago. But today is a special day - time to dump some recently learned facts on him.

«And I'll say it again. Are you aware that Elia is so weak now that having another child would kill her? - The Dornian jumped at my words, turning to me and grabbing me by the chest.

«How? - His voice sounded more like the hiss of an angry snake than human.

«I found out a week ago from Thea. - I answered, unhooking the stunned prince from me and taking a small flask from my belt, I poured thirty grams of forty-degree whiskey made in the distilleries of Osgiliath into his mouth. It could be said that the Red Serpent had been one of the first to taste it - only recently had the first barrels matured. - She overheard the conversation between the prince and Pycelle. You know that after her daughter was born, Elia was bedridden for six months. And when she gave birth to Aegon, she almost died. Eventually the High Maester told Rhaegar that she and the child she conceived would not survive another birth.

Oberyn from such news (and a good dose of hard liquor) settled in his chair like a broken doll. Naturally, neither he nor Doran knew about it. This news was known only to a narrow circle of people among the royal court and they tried to keep it secret. Of course, this news would someday become known to the aristocracy, but now, in the troubled times of the approaching storm, it was very important.

For now it was known that if something happened to Prince Aegon or, God forbid, if he took on the traits of his grandfather, then... At best the marriage would be dissolved, sending Elia home and marrying Rhaegar to another noblewoman, having had all they wanted from Dorne in these troubled times, and at worst the girl would simply die in hopeless labor, leaving behind two cold corpses and a rejoicing widowed dragon prince. In both cases, the Martells and all of Dorne will gain nothing, but only lose their strength and people in other people's squabbles.

Of course, all of these options have one big BUT. If Prince Aegon turns out to be a sensible and healthy young man, nothing terrible will happen. But we must be realistic - in this serpentarium called the Red Castle, where the king's henchmen fight with the prince's faction, where instead of a loving father and grandfather there is a madman who loves to burn people alive, and another madman with his own strange motives, and five unfriendly kingdoms outside the walls, the boy's chances of survival tend to absolute zero. It's more a matter of time before a little silver-haired corpse is found in the cradle of Maegor's Firmament.

I understood that, Oberyn, who had his head in his hands in shock, understood it right now, and Doran, who had received a raven from me a few days ago, must have understood it.

«Is it that bad? - The Dornish prince finally asked, leaning back in his chair and staring out over the horizon.

«You have no idea how bad. - I answered melancholically, watching Lyon waving a small wooden sword in the courtyard, under the envious gaze of his sister, whose hands were too small and weak to even hold a wooden knife. - We had not yet discussed the antics of our "beloved" king.

I habitually let the tirade pass my ears, though I should note that every time Oberyn thought up or found something new and unheard of, I listened only at the last question:

«What did he do again?

«He had burned the man in charge of procuring food for the Red Castle in a wild fire. - The Dornish man's face stretched slightly, and in his eyes, the only question easily readable was "Why?". - Several vials of poison had been found in his chambers and, according to the master over the whisperers, he had intended to poison the entire royal family. He was burned without trial.

«Is he out of his mind? - Oberyn said indignantly, knowing full well that most "poisons" were used as medicine and there was no fine for possession.

«I'm sure there will be. - I said, smirking. - You remember the Northern Alliance, don't you?

«The alliance of House Tully, House Stark, House Arryn, and House Baratheon?

«Yes. My trading partners (Bolton's a pleasure to deal with, after all - for extra gold, he's easily agreed to give me some information) reported that they were almost ripe. Immediately after Lyanna Stark marries Robert Baratheon and Catelyn Tully marries Brandon Stark, they will make their move.

«What move? - Oberyn asked perplexed, even setting aside his wine glass on the side table.

«It's no secret that for the Northmen, the leaders of this alliance, the greatest humiliation of the last thousand years was the deed of their last king, Torrhen of the Stakes. According to rumors circulating among the lords of the North, Rickard, in alliance with the Vale of Arryn, the Riverlands and the Stormlands, plans to issue an ultimatum to the king. On the independence of the North and granting the other three kingdoms the same privileges as Dorne. - I poured out another staggering fact on the second prince. - The North needs independence or it will be extinct in a few centuries.

«What are you talking about, Fel?

«Oberyn, did you know that three centuries ago, before the Conqueror came, the kingdom of the North was several times more densely populated and richer? - I asked, seeing that the whiskey had taken effect and that the Dornish was softening to such news. The main thing is not to let him drink any more tonight. - After the unification and the opening of the borders between the kingdoms, there was such a flood of people from there that Kreegan Stark, the Elder of the North, even imposed a quota on the number of families that could leave the North while he was Hand of the King for a day. And now they're slowly dying out - more and more people are leaving those lands, like my father, and the harsh winters, the raids of wildlings, Sisterlings, and Ironborn are contributing to that. And the Starks are well aware of that. And they want their kingdom's independence back to stop it.

There was silence, broken only by birdsong, the clatter of a wooden sword against a mannequin, and the cacophony coming from outside the city.

I was one of the only two things I'd been happy about in six months. Orchards were being planted that were planned to occupy four-tenths of the valley, and villages were being built to house the gardeners and beekeepers who would tend the fruit trees and the bees who would collect honey from them. Recently, the first shoots of hemp have appeared, planted in separately designated fields north and south of Osgiliath.

Uh-oh. how I thanked the gods when I learned that there was no culture of cannabis smoking in this world, and that no one knew it was a drug. So it was with a light heart that I sent one of the Gaels to Giskar for some of the best cannabis, which is already sprouting (though I've made sure to double the guards and put a perimeter around the planting sites). In the future, it will be used to make hemp, clothes, and most importantly, paper, which doesn't need bleaching and is of much higher quality than paper made of wood.

It was not without mishaps. My original plan to make the northern part of the city an artisanal district with a few gated neighborhoods fell apart. Porcelain, spirits, perfume, hemp paper, gunsmith shops and glass... the number of closed industries grew so large that I decided not to bother and turn the northern district into a closed artisan quarter, where only clans of artisans who had sworn eternal loyalty to me and kept the secret of production at the cost of their lives, in return for a certain percentage of profits. It was a practice known and widely used in the Free Cities, and with the markup on all their goods, in a few years they would be swimming in gold.

All other manufactories, engaged in not so "secret business" had to be moved to the western district, originally planned as a mixed district. The southern one remained a dormitory, where most of the citizens lived, and the central one, the connections on the "sides" of the eastern one with the port, became a market, already now constantly filled with all the merchants. Well, and the east of the city was occupied by my castle.

"And soon it will be necessary to lay the western fortress" - I thought, thoughtfully tapping my fingers on the armrest of the chair. - "Minas Itil is almost ready. There are only a few months of work left. The main thing is that there are no unpleasant surprises."

Out of my meditative state, what changes I need to make in my vesture and how to control it (this, by the way, was the main reason for my gray hair) I was brought out of my meditative state by the question asked by Oberyn.

«Will the crown agree to this?

«No. As long as the Madman is in power, seeing conspiracy everywhere, the only thing they'll get is a charge of rebellion. - I said thoughtfully, tucking a loose strand behind my ear.

«And if that offer is made to Rhaegar?

«That would be even worse. Do you remember what the Targaryens have been saying for the last half century?

«You mean that nonsense about the Prince who was promised? - Oberyn asked with a slight chuckle, pouring himself a new glass of wine. I had to stop him, for he'd had too much to drink today.

«The very one. And our Silver Prince truly believes it. - I said a common enough fact, known to everyone close to the heir to the king. - And he will not dare to lose people on the eve of the Great Darkness. And the treaty itself will put an end to the Targaryens' power-it won't be a century before the rest of the lands regain their independence and the era of the true Seven Kingdoms begins.

Silence fell again on the small balcony, giving the second face of Dorne time to think and put his thoughts in order, and me just to rest quietly, relaxing in the soft armchair.

«So, war..." Oberyn said as the sun began to slip toward the horizon, waking me from a light slumber.

«So it would seem. - I answered thoughtfully, watching a very strange picture - a serious Oberyn.

«And when will it begin?

«I don't know. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe a year from now. - My fingers began to beat a measured rhythm against the wooden armrest, letting those in the know know know that I don't know and I don't want to know. For war is a very scary thing where my second life can easily end.

«Then I will tell you now, while peace still reigns in our lands. - Oberyn's words surprised me greatly, putting me in a slight stupor as I waited for the end of the sentence. - Fel, I wish to ask for the hand of your sister, Elia.

«Phar-r-r...

I choked on his words, staring in disbelief at the man who was famous as Dorne's most notorious womanizer, the man whose nickname of the Red Serpent struck fear into most hearts, the man who had already had six bastards (and that was just the ones known to exist). And he just asked for my sister's hand in marriage?

«Oberyn, when did you get so drunk, zara-" I was about to give him a good slap when-

«Felix! Urgent letters from the Riverlands and King's Landing! - I was interrupted by Robin, who burst onto the balcony with a loud shout and handed me two small scrolls.

"Since it's urgent, I need to read it quickly. I'll get back to that joker," I thought angrily as I promised the Dornish a full-contact practice duel and began to read the letters that had destroyed the peace of the Seven Kingdoms.

The first was simple and short, sent by Lord Rhymis, one of the small hand lords of the Riverlands who owed me a great debt, and read, "Lyanna Stark has been kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen ten leagues from Harrenhal and taken to an unknown destination."

That news alone made my hair stand on end, and as soon as I read the second letter sent by my man in King's Landing, I knew I was very much mistaken.

"Brandon Stark, Geoffrey Mallister, Kyle Royce, Elbert Arryn, and squire Ethan Glover arrived under the walls of the city and demanded that Prince Rhaegar come out to them and return his stolen sister. In response, Aerys orders them captured and their fathers to come to court to confess."

"Their fathers will not forgive the king for such a thing. The war will not begin today or tomorrow. It has already begun."

***

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