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Interlude: The Wall and the Targaryens
🕑 Added 2024-10-08 07:08:00 +0000 UTCJon Snow looked out to the North. Word was that the Wildlings had tried to take the Advanced Defenses that had been set up near Craster's Keep, pushing south across the eastern tributaries of the Milkwater in small, coracle-like, boats of Aurochs-hide and reeds. They'd been forced back across the Milkwater by Ash-Skin Jamukka and his group, having taken heavy losses to the force of mixed Summer Islanders and Former Pirates. Word was, Mance Rayder wasn't too keen to try the same tactic again, though he was clearly planning something else.
That had been something of a shock to Jon when he'd arrived to join the Night's Watch. A few thousand Essosi, former Pirates that had been taken captive by Lord Seawynd during his conquest of the Stepstones who had been joined by another two thousand Summer islanders taken captive during the Conquest of the Blue Flower Vale, formed a majority of the Black Brothers. Jon had been told that when these groups had first arrived, there had been grumbles from some quarters that the Night's Watch, a uniquely Westerosi institution, had been subsumed by Essosi and Summer Islanders.
Partly, this had been alleviated by the re-opening of several Castles, and now that the Watch was at war, whoever had persisted in the grumbling had ceased to do so. After all, not even Ser Alliser Thorne was able to gainsay that the Essosi and Summer Islanders were good in a fight. True some of them had required discipline to be beaten into them at first, particularly the Pirates, but by the time Jon had joined the Black Brothers close to a year ago all but the most recalcitrant of the whisperers had begrudgingly admitted the Essosi and Summer Islanders had proven their mettle.
Perhaps recognizing that the Essosi and Summer Islanders were some of the more battle-hardened forces he had, Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander, had ordered that a few strongpoints be set up in the Haunted Forest and staffed by Essosi and Summer Islanders. Advanced defenses, he'd said, to act as a sort of early warning system for potential Wildling attacks, as well as for any other enemies that might be out there.
Ser Waymar Royce had a tale to tell about a horrifically cruel being that appeared out of the snow one day as he'd gone to try and assess the situation near Flintbank, a minor willing village of a few dozen wood and sod huts surrounded by a palisade near the southernmost tributary of the Milkwater. Apparently, the being had appeared to be made of blueish-white, spun Myrish Glass, or perhaps Ice, with blades and armor of black ice. The being had slain Will and Molarys of Bloodstone, two of the Rangers that had gone with Waymar and Waymar claimed both had risen as the living dead to assault him. He'd only stayed alive long enough to slay the Cold, Cruel, Being, and the Wights of his comrades thanks to the runes of his equipment.
Most had, at the time, put down Waymar's tale to being the ravings of a man who had been sick with fever from an infected wound and exhausted from running all the way back to Castle Black on foot after Gared had stolen the one Horse that remained after the ambush to use in his effort to desert the Watch. Not maester Aemon, however. No, the Elderly Targaryen had delved into the depths of the Library of Castle Black and when he returned, he brought a manuscript that was a copy of a copy of a copy and so on of a manuscript that had originally been written in the times before the Coming of the Andals, back when the Long Night had been a recent event.
That in itself wasn't unusual. It was standard practice every century or so to copy the older, more crumbling, works of the Libraries of the Watch so the knowledge could be preserved instead of fading away into dust and scraps of parchment. Originally, such copies had needed to be made by hand, but the watch had invested in purchasing a Printing Press from Essos a few years back to make the next attempt to copy the older works easier. Maester Aemon had gone blind in his old age, after all, and thus couldn't be counted on to copy the works down by hand himself. The printing press was deemed a more viable way to do this than relying on aides.
No, it had been the contents of the work that were strange. It was a copy, many generations removed, of the Testament of Lord Cadoc Hywel of a Battle of the Black Hill, a battle that supposedly took place eight thousand years before the Targaryen Conquest and which wound up being the campaign that saw the Night's Watch Founded at the end of it. Like most things that had to do with the Long Night, the historical account was packed full of things that Jon had heard Maester Luwin dismiss as 'Ahistorical Nonsense' during his years growing up in Winterfell.
There were only two problems. The first was that the physical description of the Others from the account matched almost exactly what Ser Waymar Royce had claimed he had fought near Flintbank. The second was that Ser Waymar had never read or heard such a description anywhere before in his life, so how could he have known to give the description if he were making up what he'd seen and done?
Jon had been present for that discussion, as the official squire to the Lord Commander, he'd been allowed to sit in. By the end of the discussion, the consensus was that not only were the White Walkers seemingly real, and not only had they somehow returned, but Lord Seawynd must have figured out these facts before and ensured that the equipment he had sent to the Watch would be capable of harming them. Jon recalled the look on the Lord Commander's face when that had been agreed on and it had not been pretty. Lord Commander Mormont had practically torn a strip off of Maester Aemon about how Lord Seawynd had clearly figured this out before anyone in the Watch had.
Unfortunately, the next thing that had happened was word filtering down that the Wildlings were gathering in Force north of the Milkwater under Mance Rayder. Lord Mormont had been forced to shove aside the implications of the return of the Others in favor of dealing with renewed war with the so-called King-Beyond-The-Wall. He'd set up the forward defensive positions, which had led to the recent battles and that was how Jon found himself on the Wall in the middle of the night, freezing his bollocks off to keep watch over things even though the advanced positions in the Haunted Forest would send word long before Jon spotted anything.
"It's bloody freezing up here." Scowled Jon's companion for the evening.
Jon turned to regard the man. Dolorous Edd Tollett was an older member of the Night's Watch, gray-haired with a long, thin, face, and a cynical disposition. Normally, Edd wouldn't be caught dead drawing overnight watch on top of the wall with Autumn so clearly beginning. He was too veteran to fall for any of the tricks that people got up to to skive that duty off onto someone else. However, the Night's Watch was at war, which meant everybody had to take a turn at every duty.
"I know, Edd. Still, it could be worse." Tried Jon.
"Aye, we could be with the Ash-Skin's lot facing down Mance Raiders Horde of Screaming Wildlings. Poor bastards, did you hear what One-Eyed Khargaz's Lot had to deal with over by Redstump? Poor Bastards sent out a routine patrol that ran smack-dab into an ambush set by Rattleshirt. The bloody Lord of Bones didn't leave any survivors." Scowled Edd.
"How would you hear about things that happened near Redstump? That's Greenshields area of responsibility." Scoffed Jon.
It was true, One-Eyed Khargaz, a Ghiscari Ex-Pirate, was in charge of a forward base near the Wildling Village of Redstump, which had been built around the stump of an ancient Red Ash tree. It was also north of Greenshield and therefore outside of the area of responsibility of Castle Black, at least directly. In theory, everything ultimately was the responsibility of Castle Black, since the Lord Commander was here.
"I have my ways. I know one of the blokes over in Greenshield. A Myrman in the Garrison there owes me a favor or three. He goes by Blue Attyllus on account of how he dyes his beard blue with woad. He told me all about it, apparently One-Eyed Khargaz was spitting mad about the whole thing, sent out a major force to try and track down Rattleshirt. They killed a few of his guys, but the man himself was long gone." Shrugged Edd.
"That sounds like the Wildlings. Ambush a patrol to grab their gear and then leave before the hammer comes down on you." Sighed Jon.
"Well, it figures, don't it? If you were Rattleshirt, would you wanna risk a stand-up fight with our brothers? You saw how well that turned out near Craster's Keep." Nodded Edd.
"Aye. Still, that sort of tactic has a limit. They won't be able to actually gain any ground with it." Mused Jon.
"What if they're not trying to? I mean, Mance Rayder may be a turn cloak and a son of a whore, but he used to be one of us. Maybe this is just a more tactical sort of raid. Like he knows now that he can't force a crossing of the Milkwater as he is now, so he's trying to hit patrols to steal their gear for another attempt down the line." Hedged Edd.
"Mance Rayder has thirty-thousand warriors and who knows how many villagers he's pressed into service. He won't get enough gear to arm and equip even a tenth of that force with these tactics. He has to know that, you said it yourself. He was one of us once." Refuted Jon.
"Maybe not, but if he could arm and equip a few hundred wildlings, and sneak them over the wall near one of the still walled-up castles? Imagine the sort of hell they could raise in the Gift." Insisted Edd.
"That wouldn't do much by itself. I mean, we'd send forces to Molestown to try and deal with it, but a few hundred men can be pulled from Castle Black without compromising the defenses. It's not like it used to be in the old days, the Watch has close to ten thousand men in it now." Pointed out Jon.
"Aye, but does Mance know that? More to the point, even if he does, if we pull men from Castle Black to reinforce Molestown, that means pulling men away from the forward defenses to backfill the Garrison. There may be more of us than in decades, but we also spread ourselves thinner than we would have previously with all these reopened castles and forward defense posts. If he pulls some of the Ash-Skin's men back to Castle Black, that makes the next attempt to Cross the Milkwater Easier. And if one of the forward defense posts falls, that's a gap in our defenses the whole screaming horde can pour through. If that happens, we'll be up to our arseholes in Wildlings afore you can even blink." Laid out Edd.
Jon thought about that and couldn't help but admit that Edd had a point. The damnedest thing was, he couldn't really see any way around it. They needed the forward defense posts because they had made treaties with the Wildling Villages of the Haunted Forest. Treaties which were actually helping to pacify the wildlings further and which got the Night's Watch extra resources and advanced warning of future raids. If they pulled forces back from the forward defense posts prematurely, then all that progress may as well have been for nothing and they would have ceded their strategic depth to Mance Rayder for no real gain. Mind you, just because Jon couldn't think of a way out didn't mean there wasn't one.
"I'll bring it up to the Lord Commander when I speak with him next. If anyone can figure a way to deal with that type of strategy, it will be him." Offered Jon.
"Aye. Let's hope so because I can't bloody well see a solution. Then again, that's why I'm up here with you freezing my bollocks off instead of all warm and cozy in the Lord Commander's Tower right now." Snorted Edd.
Jon couldn't help but agree with his compatriot. Lord Commander Mormont would know what to do, the man was a veteran with a literal lifetime of experience in command and enough of a grasp of strategy and tactics to get nearly unanimously elected Lord Commander when Lord Commander Qorgyle had died. Jon had asked around, and apparently, the election hadn't even been close, the Old Bear had won in a landslide. He'd know what to do, he had to. If he didn't, then it was likely that the Wall itself would be attacked before this was all over.
And with the White Walkers waiting in the wings, that was something that could only be bad for everyone. . .
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Newlywedded life was not all it was cracked up to be. Danaerys understood that Drogo was one of the better sorts of Dothraki Khal to be married to, but she hadn't expected to be taken to war quite so fast after being married, yet that was what had happened. Viserys had, apparently, been in contact with certain benefactors in Pentos who had facilitated Danaerys' marriage and somehow had managed to be lucid enough to make a cogent argument. He had convinced them to pay her new husband to attack Tolos on the northwest coast of Slaver's Bay to install Viserys as the new Autarch of Tolos.
Danaerys had no idea how that had happened. Viserys had been having more bad days than good ones of late, where his lucidity and ability to articulate points were not the greatest. Dany had learned to fear those bad days, as often Viserys would rant and rave on a moment's notice during those days, cursing out every little inconvenience and even lashing out physically. She had been forced to use make-up to conceal bruises more than once in the past few years when she had made the mistake of carrying for long enough near her brother during one of those bad days and had said or done something to inadvertently wake the dragon, as he called it.
However he had managed it, he had managed it, both getting an audience on a good day and managing to talk the Magisters around to his point of view. For his part, however, Drogo simply saw it as another opportunity to increase his standing amongst the Dothraki. Dothraki attacks on fortified cities were rare in this day and age, and successful attacks were even rarer. Most cities would prefer simply to pay off a marauding Khalasar, and when they didn't, the pattern was clear enough. The Khalasar would win a field battle only to get bogged down in a siege long enough for challenges to his authority to begin cropping up, during which the besieged city would take advantage. That was what Ser Jorah Mormont had said and Dany hadn't had much of a reason to doubt him.
Of course, now, her Sun and Stars had something that no other Dothraki Khal had. On a large, Ox-Drawn Cart, serviced by a crew of Mercenaries from Lorath, sat a gigantic, bronze, beast of weapon. A bombard the Lorathi called it, able to lob projectiles up to forty-one stone in weight over half again as far away as a ballista at speeds no other siege weapon could produce. Supposedly it was based on a design that had come out of Braavos in cooperation with some new Lord from Dorne who had conquered the Stepstones and parts of the Summer Isles with similar weapons.
"True, the weapon is ungainly, Khaalesi. It would seem to make for a poor weapon in a pitched battle, being slow to reload and cumbersome to reposition. However, in a siege, I am given to understand that such weapons are as good as having a dragon on your side, possibly better." Insisted Ser Jorah.
"It is well that such a weapon be used like that, Jorah the Andal. If were used in a true battle, my Khalasar would ride down the fools who tried to turn such a thing against them and seize this metal beast, where I would take it back to Vaes Dothrak to display the might of Drogo to all who would see. To show those Khals who would seek to challenge me, that I, Khal Drogo, have bested the Metal Dragons of Braavos. Drogo and no other." Boasted Drogo.
"And Tolos?" Questioned Viserys.
"I will use this Metal Dragon to break open the Walls of Tolos as my Khalasar rides roughshod over their slingers. I will plunder their markets, taking their wealth for my own, while the horses from the stables of their Archon will be added to the herds of my Khalasar. I will enter their temples and claim their golden idols for my own, bringing them into Vaes Dothrak to show the power of Drogo to the Dosh Khaleen! When I have had my way with the city, then you will have your own way with it and the world will know that our family is powerful enough to make Kings of its members!" Vowed Drogo.
Dny smiled at the pronouncement. Her Sun and Stars was so confident in his victory and Dany couldn't help but allow such confidence to carry over to her. It was infectious, her Sun and Stars' supreme confidence. He said he would conquer Tolos as a gift for his new Goodbrother, and so that was what would happen. Certainly, his Khalasar seemed to think so, as they cheered at Drogo's Pronouncement. Viserys certainly was satisfied, enough that he seemingly didn't stop to wonder just how much the Dothraki would take from Tolos before letting him have it. That wasn't the case for some people, however.
"My Employer wishes for Tolos to remain standing. I would hope that Khal Drogo would recall the lavish gifts given to him by the esteemed Illyrio Mopatis, and take his wishes into account." Informed the leader of the Bombard Mercenaries, a scarred Braavosi Captain named Alyssandro Grymaldi.
"I have given the Fat Cheesemonger my word that it will. No such assurances have been given about his money-men. Speak like that again to me, and you will find yourself amongst your ancestors before the day is out!" Scowled Drogo.
"Of course, I meant no disrespect." Bowed Alyssandro Grymaldi.
Her Son and Stars turned to Ko Jhogo, one of his Bloodriders, and muttered something in the Dothraki Tongue that Dany wasn't practiced enough in the language yet to understand, though she was learning it. Ko Jhogo let out a harsh bark of laughter at whatever it was that her Sun and Stars had said. Dany really ought to keep up her study of the Dothraki Tongue if she was to rule as Khaalesi alongside Drogo. It seemed, however, that Ser Jorah did understand what was said because he frowned at the byplay.
Regardless, the Khalasar reached Tolos the next day. The City sat atop the black cliffs, a series of granite bluffs that looked out over the waters of Slavers Bay. At the foot of the cliffs, carved into the very rock itself, was a magnificent sheltered harbor full of various ships, both warships and trading vessels alike. The city itself was built of green bricks, with even the walls being made of them. In the distance, the twin, Green Brick Pyramids of the Autarch of Tolos and the Temple of Graces rose out above the city of three-hundred-thousand. By Essosi Standards, Tolos was a minor city, barely more than a large town, but by Westerosi Standards, it would be in the top five cities at least, even accounting for population growth. On the walls, slingers in boiled leather armor with steel helms and small, round, shields looked down at the assembled Khalasar on the fields outside the City.
It seemed as if Tolos had been expecting to be able to pay off the Khalasar. It must have come as quite a shock, then, when the delegation rode out of the city and presented her Sun and Stars with many fine gifts including chests of gold and spices, finely crafted weapons and armor, and bolts of silk, only for Drogo to slay the delegation and take their gifts by force instead. One of the delegation managed to mount his horse and flee back towards the city gates only for the Gates of Tolos to slam shut before he could make it even halfway to them.
Danaerys' Sun and Stars grabbed one of the spears that had been presented to him as a gift, hefted it in one hand to test its weight, and then threw it overhand toward the fleeing emissary. The spear hit him dead on, punching through the Tolosi's back and erupting out of his chest. The man fell off his horse barely a fifth of the way to the gates. Drogo made his way over to the fallen man, who was gasping out his last breaths there in the dirt.
"It was a fine spear. I thank you for the gift, but now I think I will have your city as well." Smirked Khal Drogo.
As the siege lines were drawn up around Tolos and the Bombard readied for action, Dany watched on in fascination. Viserys too seemed to take all this in with a sort of unrestrained glee, which Dany realized marked the transition from a good day to a bad one in her brother. Fortunately, she now had her Sun and Stars and his Bloodriders to protect her from Viserys. Tolos on the other hand, had little protection from anyone.
As the sun began to set, everything was finally ready. Captain Grymaldi had the bombard set up, and Dany watched in fascination as the bronze beast of a siege engine belched smoke and flame, roaring out like an actual dragon to spew its projectile forth at the green brick walls of Tolos. The gigantic stone smashed into the walls, causing a large section of the brickwork to crumble away into just so much debris. Viserys looked positively elated at that, and perhaps a little too excited. Ser Jorah, helpfully, pointed out why.
"That is more than a week's worth of bombardment by Ballistae would have managed, Khaalesi." Informed Ser Jorah.
"Quite right, Ser Jorah. It won't be long now before the first step towards reclaiming my birthright will be over. Once I have Tolos, I can build a fleet and an army. Once I have those, I can sail to Westeros, and then all those traitors who joined with the Usurper will pay. They will see what comes of those who wake the dragon!" Grinned Viserys, manically.
When she saw the look her brother had in his eye and the tone of voice she heard when he said that, Danaerys Targaryen could almost find herself pitying the poor souls who would be subjected to such justice. At least until she remembered how the Usurper's Dogs had gladly murdered her infant nephew in cold blood. When she thought about that, she found it hard to pity any of them who would be subject to Viserys' vengeance. Right up until she looked back at Tolos. What indignities would the inhabitants of Tolos be made to suffer on one of Viserys' bad days? None of them had anything to do with the Usurper. When she thought about that, Danaerys was just glad that it wouldn't be her decision. After all, she was to be Drogo's Khaeesi, not Queen of Westeros.
Danaerys retired shortly after the bombardment began. That night, she found herself visited by Drogo in her tent. Her Sun and Stars gleamed in the torchlight like a bronze stallion and Danaerys found herself unable to deny him the congress he sought even had she wanted to. It would take another three weeks for Tolos to fall, the bombard speeding a process that would have taken most of a year. By the time it did, Danaerys Targaryen would find that she had missed her Moon Blood. She was with child by Khal Drogo. She wouldn't get a chance to tell him before the assault into Tolos, however. That, it would turn out, would be a grave problem.
Khal Drogo would wind up successfully assaulting Tolos, but taking a wound in the doing. He would have just enough time to Place Viserys on the throne before said wound began to fester with infection. A fever would come over Khal Drogo from the infection. While he lived, the Khalasar stayed together, but only until it began to look like he would not defeat the sickness that had taken hold of him. If it began to look like that, then the Bloodriders would begin to strike out on their own, each Ko trying to forge their own Khalasar out of the remnants of Drogo's. To avoid that, Danaerys would do anything to see her Sun and Stars whole and hale again.
In the doing, she would turn to sorcery from the Temple of the Graces that would wind up causing both wonders and terrors. . .
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AN: All right, so here we get a bit of a peek at what's going on at the wall and with the Targs. At the wall, things are going much better than they had in canon. There are a lot more Black Brothers thanks to Ricasso sending thousands of Prisoners of War to the Wall along with equipping them in Arsenal Steel, Runic Gear. On the other hand, Jeor Mormont decided that having more men meant he could afford to open other castles that had been shuttered and even begin to set up outposts in the Haunted Forest to help enforce the treaties he's made with the small Wildling Communities in the area. At the same time, Ser Waymar Royce survived and was able to tell Jeor about the white walkers, which was corroborated by Aemon finding old reference material.
Of course, Mance Rayder is still being pushed south by the White Walkers, which means he is still attacking the Night's Watch. He's failed to force a crossing of the Milkwater, and now is turning to tactics that he might be turning toward to try and exploit the garrison setup of the Night Watch. We'll see how that works out for him in the future.
With the Targs, Dany still married Drogo, but Viserys somehow managed to pull himself together enough to convince Illyrio and his Pentoshi Backers to get Drogo to attack some port city that he could use as a base from which to build a force to take Westeros, and even to bankroll some mercenaries with a single bombard. Just how he managed to do this is unclear, but seems to be a combination of luck, a more lucid day than normal, and showing that he isn't going straight for Westeros and thus is thinking ahead. Mind you, for Illyrio's part, this really is a win-win. He's not really risking much, Drogo is assuming all the risk, and even if the Bombard Crew he hired gets killed, that just means he doesn't have to pay them.
Unfortunately, though the Bombard got them into the City, Drogo took a wound seizing control of it in the assault that has since festered. While Viserys is the new Autarch of Tolos, Dany is seemingly having a bad time trying to hold Drogo's Khalasar together. She's turned to the Temple of the Graces for help curing Drogo's Fever. That in turn will likely lead to the same outcome that occurred with Mirri Maz Duur in canon. However, at least some of the Tolosi forces will be loyal to Viserys at that time for reasons that will be more clear in the next update on the Targs. Suffice it to say, Tolos and Drogo's Khalasar are in for interesting times ahead.
At any rate, in the next chapter, we'll be back with Ricasso.
Stay tuned. . .
