Chapter 9

The fact that I was divorced as an arrogant, narcissistic and narrow-minded lord became obvious to me that very evening. I fully justified the reputation and motto of the House of Baratheon by reacting to the provocation with lightning speed, impulsively, harshly and with due Baratheon fury. Unfortunately, rage does not outweigh and does not justify stupidity.

 And there is no doubt that it was a divorce and provocation. They beat me to assess the scale of my stupidity. They also beat on my authority among the metropolitan public. The only question is: who? This is clearly not the initiative of Slint or Dima, someone who is certainly authoritative and capable of unleashing an eloquent trail of his power on others, convinced both the first ram and the second ram that Lord Renly is just an errand boy for Lord Arryn. The kid is suggestible and, when it comes to serious issues, completely relies on the opinion of his older patronizing comrades. Someone convinced Dim of his impunity, someone inspired Dim and Slint that they had a strong "roof". Someone convinced these pigs that I would first run to Arryn or Robert complaining and maybe even demanding something there, but without taking any action on my own... and at the same time this "someone" would be able to neutralize the response and, of course, the belated reaction of that hand, that the King himself. And there it's a small matter, because Serena or Beatrice, after a series of endless days and nights of violence, who agreed to marry Dim, will deny and swear to great and pure love. That's right, Lord Renly is a fool, that's right. It's not a bad combination if I don't screw myself up.

 And I'm not screwing up! These morons wouldn't have climbed on their own! I'll never believe it! Oh, now I would like to have a heart-to-heart talk with Slint, but damn hell, who's going to let me do that? After a series of recent... hasty decisions.

- You bastard! You ungrateful sucker! Kid, no, just a cunt with a chamber pot for a head... – Robert swore, Robert cursed, and small hastily chewed pieces of good ham and fresh sheep cheese flew away from the king in a fan trajectory like a generous grapeshot.

 Long seconds of silence descend while the king washes down his "light breakfast" with ale, when the hand sitting quietly, with unearthly calmness, nibbles off pieces of sheep's cheese. Besides the three of us, there was Selmy in Robert's small refectory, who was standing by the door.

- I thought that you, brother, were the most reasonable and responsible of us! I suggested such a post! And you?! – The king did not let up.

 More than a week has passed since Dima's untimely death. Robert returned from hunting only yesterday, and let's face it, the past week has not been the most comfortable for me. No, no one attacked me, pointed a finger, or otherwise expressed aggression towards me. Of course, in person or even at the risk of my presence, this would not have happened. But what was going on behind my back? I can easily guess from the residual and distorted rumors that reach me.

 To my extreme surprise, John reacted quite calmly and, as far as I can tell, his position is balanced. At the same time, during our personal conversations, he did everything to dissuade me from taking imprudent and generally any steps in the near future. In fact, he took the entire alleged blow on himself.

 But he heard the same murmur as me and, most likely, in much greater detail and colors. Some of them clearly didn't like my trick – mostly the rich nobles of the city, the lords of the Royal Lands and representatives of the pro-Lannister circles. Someone, I have some suspicions, specifically attributes an anti-Lannister motive to me. Supposedly, Dim was loyal to the House of Lannister and that's why I disliked him so much that I couldn't even eat. Someone even offered to execute a couple of my people in retaliation, and I even know which blonde bitch this one suggested. But any coin has a downside, which, apparently, the alleged opponent did not take into account in his calculations.

 Where there were opponents of my actions, there were also supporters. Circles that do not particularly like the established situation in the capital, such as: merchants, bullied by guards, small nobility, who also have to bend under the Slint. Speaking of the minor nobility, Sirena is also, though small and destitute, but a noblewoman! And there are a huge number of them in King's Landing. Also among my supporters were the nobles from Stormlands and the Valley, well represented at Robert's court, and who really dislike the dominance of the Lannisters. So, with one domestic quarrel, I opened something that I didn't really want to open.…

"I could not have done otherwise, Your Majesty," Robert stared at me with bloodshot eyes framed by swollen eyelids from drinking, "the master has no power over the law except authority. I admit, with all humility, to you, not only as a king, but also as a man who replaced my father, that I made a mistake. He was led to a provocation, acted rashly, acted in a fit of rage. She blinded my eyes when I found out about what was happening, and at that moment, it seemed like I couldn't act any other way. When the people I swore to protect were abducted and abused.

- Son of a bitch, - Robert lowered his head into a plate, and began to chop the ham into fibers, - John, what do you tell me?

"Your Majesty, Lord Renly acted stupidly," the hand stole an apologetic glance at me, "but his motive did not stem from selfish motives, but from the need to protect. Some would even say that responsibilities. And, as I have repeatedly reported to you, the small council has too many questions for the Lord Commander. Ser Slynt has been seen many times in bribery, bribery and covering up the crimes of his subordinates. The streets of King's Landing are hardly safe. You know my recommendations, we need a new Lord commander of the King's Landing Guards.

- That's not what we're discussing right now, – the king looked at his right hand with irritation, - we're discussing what to do with the pile of shit that my brother so kindly imposed on us.

"Please, Your Majesty," John, like a fakir, pulled a small scroll out of his sleeve and handed it to the king.

 Silence fell again. The King studied the document handed to him, becoming completely impenetrable for a while. A sight that some had already forgotten, having got used to the royal pendulum, the two extremes of which were idleness and short temper. A rare moment when the man who snatched the throne for himself shone through.

- "... therefore, Ser Allar Dim is sentenced..."... when did I manage to sign the sentence? Robert looked up from the parchment and exclaimed in surprise, imperceptibly returning to our already familiar state.

"During the hunt, messire," the hand said matter-of-factly, "it was for this reason that Lord Renly was forced to leave the royal hunt earlier.

 Robert laughed richly and recklessly, leaning back in his chair.

"Study, sucker," Robert finished his ale and wiped his beard on his sleeve, "all right, have it your way!" Fuck that bastard Dima, but Renly, keep your dick in your hands from now on. Otherwise, I'll send you to Storm's End to get covered in mold.

- Thank you, Your Majesty. But I have a request. - It's time to forge the iron, while it's hot, and the blacksmith is sober.

- Please! A request? – Robert swelled up like a toad with indignation, – He also has a request!

- Messire, I think it's worth listening to the master of the law.

"Ah... go ahead, kid. Robert, as if losing interest, began to finish off the unfortunate ham.

"Your Majesty, my Lord hand, the post of master of the law is a fiction and a meaningless attribute of the small council," the king's champing became quieter, and the hand's gaze sharper, "just another unfounded, empty voice at the king's court. I propose to form a supervisory service that will monitor the enforcement of the law and sentences of the royal court by the guards within the borders of King's Landing. I propose to create a corps of justiciaries under the guidance of the master of law, who, I am convinced, will contribute to the prevention of bribery and other similar crimes. Well, it will give the position of master of the law due authority. I have prepared the draft and some estimates in writing.

When I finished in one breath, I exhaled, waiting for a reaction. The King stared unseeingly at the tabletop, slowly chewing his food. Arren was in a more thoughtful state.

"The Master of the law's proposal is very sensible," John took the floor, "but it requires detailed study and discussion with the members of the council.

"Then discuss," the king suddenly roused himself, as if he had remembered something, and turned his head towards the door, "Ser Barristan, let the Lord Commander enter.

 A few moments later, Slint himself appeared in front of us. He was still dressed in expensive and flashy clothes, with a helmet on his bent right arm and with some defiance in his gaze, which he reserved until our inevitable clash of views.

"Your Majesty, the Lord Hand, my Lord…

"Here," Robert poked the scroll directly into the chest of the commander of the guards, which Slint obsequiously accepted, "read it.

 Slint began to read the royal verdict, moving his lips soundlessly, and the further he pushed through the handwriting of the scribe of the right hand, the wider his eyes became and the paler the skin on his face.

- Your Majesty, but ... - I don't know what Slint wanted to say, and whether he could make up his mind, but Robert stopped his attempt with just a glance.

- Do you understand everything, Slint? – from the look of the king, it seemed that he was trying to deftly break the neck of the man standing in front of him, then he was free!

- There is! – Slint bowed and walked briskly to the door, but suddenly stopped and returned, - Your Majesty, what do you want me to do about the other... convicts, or rather with their bodies?

- What about them?

"They're... they're hanging, Your Majesty!" Robert shifted his gaze to me, but there was no longer any mock anger or aggression.

"The Master of the law will decide," and the king laughed loudly.

 After leaving the hospitable company of the king soon, the Lord Hand and I made a leisurely promenade and, passing through the courtyard of the stronghold of Meigor, came out to the eastern courtyard.

- Thanks for the support, John.

"Hmm, that would be nice, my boy. Part of the blame also lies on me, as on the right hand.

- I hung up, but you have a feeling of guilt, my lord! You take other people's mistakes too much to heart.

 All I got in response was a sad smile.

 When we reached the tower of the right hand, we settled into a small room, where we already continued the conversation without unnecessary ears and eyes that can read lips.

"John, let me ask you, why hasn't Slynt been removed and given a more competent commander yet?"

- I have been trying to achieve this for a long time, but Robert is categorically against it.

- But why? My brother doesn't look like a man covering up for a criminal.

- Robert is one of those lords who do not consider extortion by a guard to be something reprehensible: rather undesirable, but inevitable. At the same time... Robert is not inclined to punish people who once served well.

"Well-served?" – my surprise knew no bounds.

- That's right. It was only thanks to the captain of the Iron Gate that Robert's army entered the capital unhindered.

"And Slint was that captain?"

- That's right.

 Now a lot of things are becoming clear. John is right, Robert doesn't throw away shots that once served well. This is the difference between Robert and Stannis, because for a master of ships, good and bad deeds do not overlap each other. Davos Seaworth is an example of this. Legist, you know.

- What about your project? After a short silence, John resumed the conversation.

- Ah, an attempt to wrest some control from my position. The Royal Guard is under the command of the Lord Commander, the Lord Commander reports directly to the King or the Small Council. Organizational issues are solved by the right hand, issues of protection and protection of the Red Castle are solved by the commander of the Royal Guard, prisoners' issues are solved by the master of the law. As a result, it turns out that the royal guard is subordinate to everyone and no one at the same time. No one controls the structure itself, what happens in it, and who enters it too. This, in turn, leads to sad and well-known problems for all of us. And even if we can't displace Slint and his captains, maybe we can limit their capabilities. That's how the justiciar project was born. They will report directly to me, a dozen people selected by me, whose duties will include checking the internal affairs of the guards, treasury, customs, security, as well as the correctness of the execution of the Royal Law…

 John and I talked for a couple of hours, discussing and arguing, but I got agreement in principle. The Right Hand liked the idea of getting a tool to control the royal guard, which also has the potential for development. And the costs are not so great – a dozen justiciars and the same number of clerks. The justiciars will untie my hands in one very important matter and, at the same time, tie up a single smart-ass guy. It remains only to approve the project in the small council, and now this issue is almost resolved.

***

The sunset flickered like the gleam of a blade…

 Darkness descended on King's Landing, and the air was full of night sounds and a gentle breeze blowing towards the sea. Through a large telescope that I installed on a tripod on the balcony, it is clearly visible how signal lanterns are lit on ships in the port and on the roadstead. They are already burning in the city: on gates, on towers, at intersections and establishments operating at such hours.

 Pulling away from the eyepiece, I took a deep breath of fresh air, which drove away the unpleasant smell of the big city. Despite the events of the last week, my mood was upbeat. Those seeds that I sowed months ago, despite all the slowness and inertia of the era, sprang up with strong and confident shoots. I boldly come to this conclusion based on the thick packages of documents from trusted persons that were delivered to me three days ago.

 The first package, from the castellan of Storm's End, Ser Penrose. There are many figures and indicators: how much was sown, how much was removed, income, expense, profit, loss, as well as sound initiative. Being carried away by projecting, I unwittingly infected my castellan with this nasty disease, who, after my departure, apparently miraculously recovered. The original plans called for a major expansion of the Storm Limit, the construction of a tavern, barracks, craft workshops and warehouses, and all this under the protection of additional walls. But Ser Courtney has discovered one flaw in this plan. Storm's End, due to its location and defensive architecture, is valuable primarily as an impregnable stronghold, and not as a center of cultural and economic life.

 The ancestral castle of the Baratheons stands on a rocky cliff, which is convenient to defend and perhaps even with a small garrison, and frankly nasty weather conditions play along with all this. And my changes could seriously break this whole established concept. Turning the castle into a small town makes it much more vulnerable. Firstly, the area of the walls will increase, which means that a more significant garrison is needed. Secondly, a large crowd of people is added to the large garrison, which would have to work in my brand-new manufactories, taverns and brothels, which, in case of a siege, would be locked up in the Storm Limit. If Stannis had been able to sit under siege for a year, then most likely the updated Storm Limit would not have lasted a couple of months. And for me, this is categorically unacceptable, given how greedily everyone licked their lips at my lock in the book.

 Penrose came to similar conclusions, offering a simple but elegant way out. Construction materials have been purchased, teams of masons have been hired, as well as the master architect - there is no turning away from the path of construction and some renovation. And here Ser Courtney suggested redirecting all these resources to the construction and strengthening of the Gray Harbor. A small port village that my thoughts and actions are already turning into a small trading town. And if we move all the factories and the rest of the infrastructure that has grown beyond the walls of Storm's End to the pile there? Just a song. And since the village is located in a very convenient fjord, sandwiched between rocks, proper defensive structures will make the Gray Harbor a very difficult target, both for attacks from land and sea. After thinking it over, of course I agreed. It is clearly not necessary to put all the eggs in one basket.

 Next in line was a joint package of reports from my Marshals, Lonmouth and Kensington. Personnel turnover in their companies has been reduced to almost nothing. There was a decrease, of course, but, let's say, it was natural. Someone died of diarrhea, someone broke his neck from drinking, someone was hung by the neck for certain crimes. A harsh age, in short. But the number of people willing to serve under the black and yellow banners is increasing. The Sires report that, finally, the quantitative indicators of the fighters began to turn into quality, but not without certain nuances ... positive or negative, it is still difficult to understand. As for Lonmouth and his, in fact, cavalry regiment, initially, the gendarmes company was conceived by us as something flexible and versatile. On the one hand, to have a powerful armored fist, on the other hand, light cavalry for raid and patrol operations, which led to the formation of the already implemented structure of the ordinance company. The heavy cavalry was to be a knight of the dash, a man–at-arms with a squire (total: two hundred fighters), and three or four hundred horse archers as light cavalry.

 Everything was smooth on paper, but they forgot about the ravines. Who could have known what magical properties regular and stable monthly salaries and food could have in a feudal state that had not fought a war for about seventeen years, and in which a decent number of young people had managed to give birth, wielding only themselves and their sword. As a result, we received about three hundred and fifty nobles who do not have knight's spurs for the position of "horse archer", and judging by the trend, there will be even more of them. Minus: half of them do not know how to use a bow, not that it is "normal", but from the word "completely". Plus: they usually arrive on their own, albeit relatively inexpensive (as far as this word is generally applicable to such property in our century), but a war horse, in their armor and even with their weapons. Yes, the horses and weapons of such "younger sons" do not differ in gloss and high quality, but they are much better than horse archers were supposed to be. Now in the Lonmouth ordinance company, in addition to two hundred heavy men-at-arms, there are almost four hundred "light-medium" cavalry capable of horse-spear collision. In eastern Europe, the model of the seventeenth century, such cavalry was called armored. Although this was not part of our plans, but the acquisition of a full-fledged combat rider at half price can be considered a success.

 Kensington, in turn, reported on the final formation of an infantry company, numbering five hundred combat personnel. Ser Michael took a rather creative approach to shaping the tactics of our infantry, creating an infantry battle that is stable enough on the battlefield, but at the same time flexible enough for maneuver. The statutory structure of the battle, according to Ser Michael's plan, looks like this: the first two or three ranks consist of pikemen, the next rank consists of halberdiers, the subsequent ranks are armed with lighter weapons, and all this works under the cover of crossbowmen on the flanks and archers from the rear. Of course, the first ranks were armed with better and more complete infantry armor that could only be obtained, and were also motivated by increased salaries. The Swiss and Flemings did something similar at the time, and they were great at hitting the tail and mane of all their neighbors. I hope I can do just as well.

 Ser Henry and Ser Michael not only reported on the organizational and tactical measures, but also confirmed my high confidence by showing sound initiative. Firstly, the flow of combatants who want to join my service does not dry up, which raises the logical question of creating new companies, which, at the moment, are not particularly available. The Sires did not lose their heads, starting to attract this contingent as "students" and "apprentices". They are paid absolutely pennies, and they often have to suffer from all sorts of hazing, but they are fed and there is a tangible prospect of becoming a full-fledged "soldier" with appropriate social and material bonuses. Secondly, the news went hand in hand that we will not see horse archers as our ears, and plans to create a detachment of huntsmen. In light of this, the "marshals" thought it over, conferred with Sir Courtney and began to organize a separate light cavalry unit. However, according to the description provided in the report, they get some kind of prototype rangers. So far, a little less than a hundred hunters, on light fur mopeds, will soon have to become the eyes and ears of the army. Thirdly, the military construction that I have deployed has led to the fact that more than a thousand men have become bored. Over the past almost six months, a certain structure, discipline and hierarchy have been formed and established, fighters constantly participate in marches and suffer from drill, and it is clear to any good commander that the guys need steam descent. In this case, the best steam release is the use of acquired skills for their intended purpose. The fathers of the commanders, having agreed with the castellan of Storm's End, cleared the robbers of my entire patrimony. They even cleaned it up. Even more, individual "hunters" went deep into the Royal Forest and the Red Mountains in search of bandits.

At the same time, Lonmouth and Kensington helped the merchants who work for me a lot by giving them a couple dozen of their own people, which negated any attacks on caravans in my lands.

 After getting some fresh air, he returned to the desk in the room, which was generously littered with documents, maps and books. Thoughts about merchants brought me back to work.

 The third, last and thickest package came from Trevor. Not just from Trevor, as it turned out, but from Trevor, nicknamed Combe, who is from the Mourner. Still, you need to know as much as possible about your subordinate,... well, I found out. The father, Cindy, is a hereditary merchant whose family traded wild honey and wax in Mourning. Over several generations, a family of honey merchants had made a decent fortune for their town, which allowed Trevor to marry well and invest, as he thought, in a very profitable overseas trade. And indeed, for several years everything went quite well and even successfully, Combe proved to be a very good businessman. So everything would have gone like a fairy tale, until Trevor's chartered ship with an uninsured valuable cargo sank, eventually bringing this poor guy's daughter to me, and then himself.

 Of course, at the very beginning of our joint work, I could not fully trust this person, carefully probing and checking him. And I will say it bluntly, after a somewhat prolonged "acquaintance", I was impressed, very impressed. Trevor, having received a very limited amount for me, turned around in full, clearly realizing what was wanted from him and what prospects, including personally for him and his family, this could lead to.

 Obviously, it was impossible to take control of the trade flows coming from the Stormy Lands (and that was exactly the task I set) alone, and Trevor, realizing this perfectly well, rushed to put together his own merchant "gang", finding in the process a good balance between showing personal initiative and coordinating his actions. First of all, he involved his relatives and acquaintances from the merchant guild of the Mourner, and second, he reanimated his old connections in other cities and regions. In about five months, he managed to bring down a strong brigade of almost twenty merchants, who rolled up their sleeves and set to work. Trevor and Co plowed and tore between my lands and King's Landing, Old Town and the nearest Free Cities.

 But not everything went smoothly and simply. Not all of Trevor's associates were honest and open with him. There were also betrayals, deception, speculation and staged robberies. That's why Kombu and his most loyal companions had to make difficult and tough decisions both on the ground and on the sidelines. A couple of merchants who betrayed high trust simply disappeared, several paid for the deception with their property and honest name, disappearing soon in the slave market of Volantis, several more died at the hands of robbers and pirates, and one died of, most likely, a heart attack ... so he loved to take a sip of pear brandy. The rest were eliminated or self-excluded due to various circumstances. As a result, seven merchants remained out of the entire honest company, including Trevor Combe himself.

 There are only seven, but what kind of people, Gods! Having crushed all the connections and logistics of their less reasonable and lucky comrades and having my support and an open, in their understanding, "bottomless" credit line behind them, they turned around in full. They started with the Mourner. A small wooden town that lives off the trade in leather, hemp, tar and ship timber, as well as the resale of ore and products made from it. The volumes are small, since everything more or less valuable from the Stormy Lands is coming (and now it is already "going") through King's Landing and Old Town. Why, on the one hand, relying on extensive connections in the city, and on the other on my patronage and financing, the "seven", as they are now called in narrow circles, quickly crushed the local merchant guild, stupidly buying them and tying them up in a row.

 Relying on the Grieving, primarily on its voluminous warehouses, and the actively expanding Gray Harbor, the merchants began to outbid the surplus goods in the region, concentrating them in the above-mentioned places and selling in large quantities at a discount, dumping prices. Having brought down prices, the seven began squeezing out visiting businessmen in Stormy Lands, offering higher purchase prices to local producers and communities, compensating their losses with my money. They did all this by simultaneously buying up and taking under the patronage of smaller local merchants, creating a fairly extensive trading network divided into three conditional regions. The first is the south of the Stormy Lands, where goods descend the Wil and Slane rivers and reach the Mourner by coastal sea. The second is the center, where goods go to the Gray Harbor, and then to Tarth, on the east coast of which there is an abandoned fortress of Morne with an excellent harbor, which Brienne's father generously leased to me, for decent money, of course. The third conditional region is the north, where the trade route goes along the Guideway River. And if the southern and central regions are focused on trade with Dorne and the Free Cities, then the northern direction is towards King's Landing. Of course, there are also single merchants and representatives of the merchant guilds of the neighbors who continue to work independently in the Stormy Lands, but this is not critical at all.

 As a result, this strategy, in general, worked. Yes, now the "seven" are not very popular in the merchant circles of Old Town and King's Landing (as well as me) for increasing their costs, but they can't do anything serious against them, for fear of conflict with me directly. Moreover, the quick payback of this project was a pleasant discovery for me. I spent about twenty thousand dragons on the "seven", which is simply an astronomical amount for Trevor and his friends. Ninety percent of this amount has already been paid off. Apparently, even the "seven" did not expect such a rapid effect (perhaps surprise and disbelief in its durability caused the inflammation of cunning in part of the original "twenty"), most likely underestimating the impact of their actions. Now the gentlemen of the merchants have realized and penetrated, seeing in me the recognized authority of the merchant craft. It feels good, damn it.

But, be that as it may, control over local trade routes will not bring me the super profits I need so much. A moderate income, yes, but I need more, more money! Controlling local trade is only the first step…

 A knock on the door distracted me from my thoughts, but the guest was expected.

- Come in!

"My Lord," the Lady Siren entered the room.

 A simple closed dress, hair tucked under a cap. She stood in front of my desk, calmly and openly looking at my face.

 A strong woman.

- My Lady, I apologize for inviting you at such a late hour, but I have already postponed our conversation for so long…

- It's not worth it, my lord, - the Siren interrupted me in the middle of the word, causing me great surprise, - It's not your fault.

 An astute woman.

"I gave you my word and I didn't keep it. I cowardly delayed our conversation. But I will not ask you for forgiveness either," the Siren looked at me clearly with mixed feelings, "I will deserve it.

"My Lord?"

- Your good name, as well as your daughter's, will not be returned to me, even if I pull out all the slanderous tongues, but I want to ask for service to me. For the service of you and your family. I will take Vigmar as a page, he will prove himself and the path to knighthood will be open for him. I can offer you to lead my life, recruit people for yourself, if you want, then attach your daughters, you will cook and serve only me and my guests. I promise you, you will be given the appropriate reward and protection.

- My Lord…

"That's not all," he gently interrupted the guest, "I will provide an appropriate dowry for your daughters and, if necessary, for you too, as well as my protection. We will work with her to return your family's family name.

"My Lord, you don't have to, you've already got too many problems because of us.

- Leave it. My problems are... bullshit. I don't care about the opinions of people unknown to me, only those close and loyal. Do you need time?

- No ... it's not necessary, - the Siren straightened up and curtsied, - I agree.

- Great, - I couldn't keep a satisfied smile, - in the next few days we will discuss my culinary preferences.

 That was the end of the conversation. It was time to disperse and think about the future. Each in his own way.

- Lady Siren! - already on the way out, I called out to the guest, - I completely forgot, Will you allow me to rent your tavern for my needs?

"Of course, my lord. If Serena was surprised, she didn't show it.

- It's wonderful. Good night, my lady.