Arthur 44

293AC

"Fleet to Depart for Stepstones Tomorrow"

I smiled as I read the big blocky type of the Dragon stone press, focusing on maintaining my rigid back posture.

It was funny reading the newspaper now. Back when I had just gotten my first press running I was it's sole author in weekly releases, but since then it had managed to pick up a small but dedicated staff, though it was still limited to one page a day.

Paper wasn't that cheap just yet, and neither was the ink for that matter.

Still, it was more than anyone else on earth could get out to their public on a regular basis, and I intended to make the best use of that.

Case in point my current circumstances, sitting atop a nice wooden stool in my uniform, cutting a not particularly handsome, but reasonably authoritative figure, I imagined. I had better, this was meant to be stamped onto every single issue of the pamphlets for the foreseeable future, a demonstration of my full support for the newspaper, as well as a good reminder to folk of what I looked like and who exactly their boss was.

If Queen Victoria could pull it off than so could I.

The image was to be accompanied by a short interview I had already finished, mostly commentary about the war, which had been the subject of everyone's discussion for some time. I wasn't going into much detail of my plans, only that I intended to hunt the piratical scum which harassed the supply of the seven kingdoms down, and secure the Stepstones against any such future occupation as well.

It wasn't anything anyone on Dragonstone didn't already know, but the fact that such a popular sentiment was coming almost directly from my lips would hopefully be good PR, and mostly I just wanted to ensure they all felt my presence in their lives. Gone unfortunately we're the days where I could go running back and forth through the port and see most all of my employees every day. Dragonstone was now a proper medieval city of more than thirty-five thousand people, expanded far past the harbor wall I had ordered built, the promise of free housing and high wages continuing to bring in a constant flow of second sons and merchants, though there was a mildly distressing gender imbalance in the city.

Fortunately, that would be lessened considerably by the departure of my army.

The new growth was supported by a network of rapidly erected fortresses around the edge of it which I had decided were more practical than walls for the moment. They were square boxes of logs with raised earth running up the bases of their walls. I had used them as a testbed for the eventual designs we would be using in the Stepstones and beyond. A network of easily and quickly assembled frontier fortresses that would let even small garrisons keep hold of my colonies.

I smiled as I thought that perhaps every island on the Stepstones would soon have one of my "wooden castles" on it, and perhaps more than that if the pirates gave me an excuse.

After all, if one were making power grabs then he ought not to restrain himself. I could always take a few steps back after jogging a mile and keep most of my power intact.

"Feel free to move now your grace."

I sagged into my shoulders, at the artist's words. It had taken quite a while to find a stamp maker that I could be sure was unlikely to be compromised. But now that I had one I could start engaging my employees and future subjects in a visual as well as literary capacity, and if I ever got microphones working…

I shook my head, it seemed all my blasted time now was spent either missing Arianne or fantasizing new uses for my still basic electrical understandings. I knew it was in my nature to rush to my goals, came from a mindset of knowing a minor apocalypse was headed your way in about a decade, but that haste wasn't helping me much here. Not when I had so many other things going on.

After all, it wasn't every day you had a parade to run. One which I was likely already running a little late for, given the apparent discomfort on Maester Cressen's face. The old man was mostly in charge of organizing it, after all, a task he had taken too happily after spending the last two years building sewers.

"Prince Arthur, you're finished I hope."

"Indeed, why the long face though?"

"Ah well," the old man cleared his throat. "Indeed just that the band was having some trouble."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Trouble, how?"

"They are extremely drunk my prince." He sighed. "Most of them at least, it seems someone donated them three kegs." I rolled my eyes at that. One of the unfortunate realities I had to deal with building the regular army was the tendency of men in Westeros towards alcoholism. The Marines were largely sons of Dragonstone, pretty sober people, but the regular army was from further afield, being largely immigrants.

"Alright, they'll be taking a pay cut for their poor timing, but the parade will go on anyway," I grumbled at that. But then enlisted men being morons was just something to be expected in the end.

"Yes, my prince, we have horses just outside, though I'd rather we not ride too quickly to spare my old bones.."

I nodded, smiling, even down half a band I wouldn't let this parade be anything but spectacular.

"Let's see to it then."