Arthur 42

293AC

"Kneel Fire." The cry went up and the first rank side as ordered, the men quickly hurrying into the positions they had now been drilling for about 3 weeks.

Frankly, it wasn't enough time to train them properly, and it showed. They could shoot and reload properly, but they were by no means soldiers, not yet, that might take another three months.

Then again, there would be time for that in the Stepstones. The officers, however, were a bigger issue. Despite years of groundwork, raising an army was no easy task, especially when it's structure was a fundamentally modern affair, not the slapdash nonsense that Westeros and Essos liked to call armed forces. The Marines were one matter, there weren't too many, and they were serving on ships, confined environments in small packaged groups, and I had been building them since my first boat hit the water.

The Dragonstone Regular army had 5,000 men in it, almost twice the number of my Marines, volunteers from around my Father's Vassals, and the coastal towns of the Stormlands, drawn by promises of land that would be there's to own in their own right in the Stepstones, all in exchange for five years of service.

That was a good deal, and they all knew it, but breaking an unruly mob of ambitious young men into a "rank and file" army was something that neither I nor anyone in my army had all that much experience in, the Marines were essentially skirmishers. This was to be the core of my forces going forward.

Still, I couldn't deny they looked great, all yellow and black checkered Gambeson under polished steel breastplates, their armor glinting in the sunlight. It wasn't full harness, but it was still heavier than what the Marines wore, owing to not being intended for sea-battles. Their arms and legs had proper splinter mail, and their helmets were open-faced Pickelhaube, though I had named it "Pickaxe" helmets, owing to a lack of German in Westeros. The Helmets would give them a good sightline, and hopefully, we would be out ranging arrows most of the time we engaged.

The fact that it made them look fairly kickass, and let me stamp a stag on their foreheads, was of course entirely incidental.

As the drills continued, the few experienced officers I had looted from my marines barking orders in a manner the newer ones would hopefully copy in time, my eyes drifted away from the field, turning towards the other side of the tower I stood on, and down towards the Bay of Dragonstone.

There the Silver Wind was even now preparing to depart. My Newfound Sister's ship, a cutter set to water only three days ago, it was a lithe thing, like a dagger, though to be honest, the same was true of most of the twenty-eight other company ships filling the bay. Of the lot only five were galleons, ones that had been too far afield when my father had called up the fleet, grading on the other side of the continent, or in Braavos. One of them, the Storm Hammer had even been on a journey to Skagos, and then to the North of the wall. I hadn't met with its captain, Kenion Sand yet, but I was looking forward to hearing his report when I got the opportunity. If all went well in Hardhome it might end up being a major resource for me in the Stepstones and beyond.

I had said my goodbyes to Asha in the morning. Meeting her at the dock even after she had departed the castle proper.

I had run to her and hugged her, and wished her well, and she had ruffled my hair. It was honestly a surreal experience, I was for all intents and purposes her boss, but she was still somehow my older sister as well. The relationship between us was paradoxical, to say the least.

It would probably be less odd if both of those things weren't implanted in us by magic. The supernatural nature of our oath apparently doing its best to glue us together in both ways even if it didn't seem to make sense.

'And speaking of magic…' my eyes turned further south, and I felt a deep pit of lonely Ness and worry that had only grown in my time apart from Arianne. 'I hope she is alright…'

In the time since I had left Dorne, I had come to regret allowing myself to be pressured into setting that oath, using that magic, not for my own love for her, no, that was fine, she was a beautiful young woman, and I could not say that I regretted the care and attraction I now felt for her, not in the slightest, even if it was compelled by magic. It hurt my heart to be away from her, but it was a pain I could bear for duty's sake.

No, what bothered me more was the oath she had sworn to me. If my own heart ached so much, despite the technical and moderate language I had used, how much then must Arianne's hurt? Her romance, her oath to love me above all others, how great a love must that be? How pained her heart must feel.

I would visit Dorne again then when my fleet sailed for the Stepstones, I would find an excuse.

And I would pressure my father that we should be married as soon as possible, if not for my own heart, then for hers. Once she was mine and I hers I could bring her with me where I went, keep her at my side.

No, no, that would be moronic, what if the ship sank, what if she got hurt?

I tugged slightly at my hair, it was all so stupidly complex, and the logical part of my mind was already trying to just avoid thinking about it.

I sighed, as I drew my gaze away from the South, trying to return my focus to the army which had eating all of my time since I had returned. Even when I would much rather be trying to figure out motors and electromagnets.

It didn't really help.

"Magic is bullshit…" I grumbled to myself, glaring down at the stone floor beneath me as I resolved to write another letter to Arianne as soon as I was done with my research on the Stepstones for the night.

I rubbed my forehead as I began making my way back into the keep's interior.

'This was so much simpler when I was just building boats.'