Chapter 22

A group of riders leading their forces along the winding road toward Duskendale moved in silence. Only the dull thud of hooves on stone and the occasional shouts of soldiers broke the stillness. Stannis Baratheon rode at the front, sitting tall and firm, his dark blue eyes fixed on the distant sight of the fortress's grim walls, encircled by the vast camp of the royal army.

Duskendale had not yet been taken, but the siege had begun. Rows of tents could be seen everywhere, with Targaryen banners fluttering in the wind alongside the banners of the Lannisters. Soldiers were hard at work constructing siege engines: massive ballistae and battering rams loomed, and wooden towers were being reinforced to approach the castle walls.

"They've already begun preparations, it seems," Stannis muttered, turning to Barristan, who rode beside him.

"Tywin won't waste time," came the reply.

Everyone knew that Lord Lannister was famed for his cold ruthlessness and tactical precision. Baratheon surveyed the camp, assessing the size and discipline of the army. His gaze lingered on the large tent at the center of the camp, adorned with red dragons on a black field. A little farther away, Baleryon lay—an enormous and mighty beast, its scales gleaming under the faint sun. Even from a distance, it looked fearsome.

"They're ready," Stannis said quietly, then spoke louder as he turned to his soldiers: "Prepare to set up camp. We're here for the long haul."

At that moment, a distant sound, faint at first but quickly growing louder, like the beating of massive wings against the air, caught his attention. Stannis raised his head to the sky, squinting as he saw a bright figure rapidly approaching through the gray clouds. Solarex, Aeryon's dragon, was getting closer with each passing moment, casting a dark shadow over the sprawling tents below.

The dragon circled the camp widely, as if surveying the troops. The men below froze, watching its flight—some with awe, others with fear. Solarex began to descend slowly, and soon the enormous beast gently landed on an empty stretch near Rhaegar's resting dragon. Aeryon, on Solarex's back, looked regal—his black armor gleamed, and his long cloak billowed behind him.

He gracefully dismounted from the dragon's wing, landing firmly on the ground. Suddenly, the two deadly creatures raised their long necks and roared at each other, their cries echoing across the camp. But Aeryon didn't allow the situation to escalate. He quickly raised his hand toward his dragon and commanded:

"Quiet, Solarex! Calm down, my friend!" His hand settled on the hot golden scales, soothing his partner. Then he turned and approached the slightly agitated Baleryon.

"Not yet, be patient," the Targaryen said, attempting to touch its snout, but the dragon only blew out hot air and turned away, making the prince laugh.

Soon, several knights arrived to escort Aeryon to the camp. At first, they intended to send him to the main tent, where Rhaegar, Tywin, and the other commanders were already meeting, but the prince chose to first check on his men, give orders, and assess their readiness. Only after ensuring his troops were prepared did he head to the council.

Aeryon entered the tent with Ser Oswell a step behind him. Inside, a discussion was already underway, but as soon as he appeared, the conversation ceased. The tent was filled with knights and lords—Arthur Dayne, Kevan Lannister, Damon Marbrand, Gyles Rosby, Melwyn Sarsfield, and Jon Connington. All held cups of wine and occasionally glanced at the scrolls spread across the table.

Aeryon's gaze swept over them all, but it lingered on two men—his brother Rhaegar and Lord Tywin Lannister, who sat side by side, as if they had already agreed on something important.

"Well, now this is what I call a war council!" Aeryon quipped with a smirk. "It seems the success of the siege depends on how much wine you've all consumed."

"Brother, what are you doing here?" Rhaegar asked sharply, not rising from his seat, but his gaze remained stern.

"Did you seriously think I wouldn't come to aid our father?" Aeryon replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He stepped closer and sat on one of the prepared chairs. "I hear we're planning a grand siege here."

"A grand siege, you say?" Rhaegar smiled faintly. "Is this all just a game to you?"

Aeryon's eyes filled with disdain, but before the argument could escalate, Tywin Lannister intervened. Rising slowly, he looked over the two princes, as if taming two wild beasts.

"We're not here to trade barbs," he said dryly, though his voice held a firm authority. "We need to make critical decisions, ones that will determine the king's survival."

Exchanging glances, the two princes seemed to agree to temper their tempers and listen to the more experienced lion.

"As we can see," Tywin gestured to the map on the table, "the siege of Duskendale has only just begun. Their walls are high, and though we have a massive numerical advantage, we cannot act rashly. If they sense defeat, they might kill the king."

Aeryon nodded grimly, his tone now serious. "In other words, we can't deploy our full forces, and certainly not the dragons. So, what does our Hand of the King propose?"

Satisfied that he had refocused attention on the plan, Tywin continued, "First, we need to weaken their resources, make them anxious, force mistakes, perhaps even stir rebellion within. Small raiding parties can harass them and deny them sleep."

"And once we're fully prepared," Jon Connington added, "the siege engines and ladders will be used to strike swiftly before they can react."

"I disagree," Kevan Lannister interjected. "Sieges require patience, not speed. When they run out of food, negotiations will be much easier."

Rhaegar frowned, looking at the map. "And what about our father? What guarantee do we have that they won't kill him at the first sign of defeat?"

Tywin, his gaze fixed on Rhaegar, responded, "We have no choice. Accepting their current terms would be madness. Besides, they can't kill him as long as they hope for negotiations or believe they can turn the tide. We need to create the illusion of their potential success."

Aeryon smirked, casting a glance at his brother. The Targaryens tried to read each other's eyes, but their true emotions and intentions lay too deep. After a brief pause, Tywin continued, addressing everyone present:

"To start, we'll organize a series of small raids on their fortifications. This will buy us time and exhaust their men. From there, we'll adjust based on their response." Lannister looked once more at the princes, adding weight to his words. "It's important to remember that we must act in unity. Any sign of division will only play into our enemy's hands."

Many of the lords nodded in agreement. Arthur Dayne's face reflected confidence, Kevan Lannister looked satisfied, and Gyles Rosby, though reluctant, acknowledged the wisdom of the plan. Rhaegar, taking a slow sip from his cup, considered Tywin's words. He still wasn't fully convinced of the strategy's success but understood that there was no better plan for now.

"Very well. If this is the collective decision, we'll proceed with it," he said, casting a glance at Aeryon.

The second prince smirked slightly, noticing his brother's reluctant agreement, and also nodded, playing along with the general sentiment.

"So, let's proceed with that plan. But if something goes wrong… though with commanders like these, it's unlikely," he said with a smirk, glancing at Tywin and Rhaegar.

Hearing this, Lannister frowned but gave a restrained nod.

"Then we're done here," he announced.

The lords began to rise from their seats, discussing the details of the plan as they left the tent. Aeryon briefly glanced at Oswell, who stood by the exit, exchanging a quick look with him. As he stepped outside, the prince mentally ran through all the nuances of the upcoming actions. He also noticed that Rhaegar and Tywin stayed inside, continuing their conversation in private. Aeryon decided to take a walk, waiting for Ralf to join him, and together they headed toward their camp.

"As expected, they've decided to act slowly, hoping to wear down the enemy," Targaryen remarked as they moved to a safe distance.

Buckler nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. "Everything is going according to plan. As long as they don't launch a full-scale assault."

"No one would dare lead an attack. If Aerys dies during the assault, the commander's head will roll that same moment."

"Then is it time to send the message to Darklyn?"

"Don't be so hasty, my friend. Let him stew in that besieged castle a bit longer. We'll help him at the right moment, so he doesn't even think of questioning us. For now, start investigating that passage Denys mentioned, and be careful. Everyone in Duskendale is on high alert."

"As you command, my prince," Ralf replied with a smile.