The city of traitors I

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-third person pov fourth-sixth moon 286 AC

The city of Tyrosh had begun to show signs of healing the wounds caused during the bitter days when chaos reigned. But the days when the prosperous city of Tyrosh stood proudly had passed. Many artisans were killed, vital infrastructure destroyed, and trade had almost disappeared. Many of the cities that once depended on Tyrosh now looked to their rivals for protection or simply maintained independence, refusing to recognize the new ruler.

This was what Lothar had inherited an extremely critical situation in which he could not show the slightest weakness, humanity, or empathy. His enemies only knew one language for all of this war, something that the disgraced general was very good at.

Even so, Tyrosh was destined to fall. The only thing keeping the almost dead body of the city afloat was the grain that arrived from the west in the great Prussian galleons, in addition to the most vital element for the storm that was coming: armor, swords, axes, maces, spears, and pikes, all to equip his conscript army that was beginning to gather on solid ground.

And the economic support from the city of Braavos to supply everything else that could not be obtained from the west.

"They are in tremendous trouble. Only twelve cities remained loyal, forty-two rebelled," said the Prussian admiral, looking at the map in the center of the room after the scouts and spies had updated the cities' loyalties.

"There's no need to state the obvious, Karl. We have to act quickly. The forced recruitment orders have already been sent to all the loyal cities. Between the population of Tyrosh and the loyal cities, if we are very intense in the recruitment, we can mobilize around fifty thousand men among the free citizens by the end of the month. If we are desperate, we can recruit the slaves with promises of freedom... but we don't have time to train them. At any moment an attack from Myr or Lys could arrive and it would be the final nail in the city's coffin," said the Finn, looking at the large number of letters he had.

"You can always train them on the way, teach them camp life while besieging a rebel city. Nothing better than real experience," said the Prussian admiral as he walked away from the table and checked some boxes with his luggage.

"We still have my small personal retinue, around eighteen thousand men, and occasionally some Dothraki arrive looking to join my cause," said Lothar, pointing to one of the cities that remained loyal because he used to govern it.

"I don't like to be the one to say it, but the Dothraki are useless to us if they don't wear armor. The numbers are against us, we can't lose men simply because they don't like it," said the Finn, crossing his arms.

"I already solved that problem shortly after dealing with the Dothraki. It was only necessary to command them with an authoritative tone after punching to death the one who immediately refused. I equipped them with chainmail and scale armor and a nasal helmet, as it was what we could loot from fighting the mercenaries and what local blacksmiths could handle. So we have a decently armed cavalry. They're not the same as my knights, but we already have Helmuth's hussars, so we don't need more light cavalry," said Lothar with a slight smile.

"Right, the Dothraki. There is still time for their annual arrival. During that time Myr will be busy. We will have to take advantage... Karl, now that the blacksmiths have arrived and your three longswords are ready for you to go to the king's wedding, I suppose you wouldn't want to earn some money using your navy to support us naval?" said the Finn.

"Unfortunately, I can't without orders. I've already reported how many men I lost fighting the pirates. If they fight at sea, it will be difficult to explain to the king how I lost so many men fighting pirates," said the Prussian admiral, shrugging.

"We are going to use Greek fire with the improved siphons that the king gave us. They can't be used by novice sailors. If used incorrectly, I could lose many ships. Besides, the king wouldn't want his secrets revealed to his potential enemies. They must be men with unwavering loyalty," responded the man with the wolf head.

"Alright... five galleys... with my most veteran men. Don't worry, no need to train them, they already know how to use the liquid," said the Prussian admiral.

"Good, we have rebellious cities to crush, and now that internal matters are partially resolved, what shall we do?" said the high Prussian general.

"We will send a new message to the rebellious cities and the city that responds in the worst way will be punished... we will besiege it and massacre every last one of its inhabitants, destroy the buildings and tear down the walls so that the others understand what happens if they step out of line, shouting to the winds what will happen to any city that resists," said the Finn.

The two Prussians nodded.

While the trio deliberated Tyrosh's fate, a group of men entered moving a heavy armor on a cart.

"Graf Lothar... it's ready... I know my work looks like it was done by an apprentice, but at your advisor's request I had to keep the runes intact. Therefore, I could only forge the steel to make the armor according to your specifications," said the Qohorik blacksmith who had been a Prussian guest for too long.

Lothar looked at the Finn after observing the armor that had quite a few imperfections.

"What do you think, that the Valyrians had armor to your specifications, Lothar? You are over two meters tall and your arms are as wide as heads. Besides, the runes supposedly protect the wearer," the Finn responded to the Prussian general.

"I know my work isn't the best... but it's the first time I've worked with armor... having to expand it and manage to shape Valyrian steel to cover your armor, Graf Lothar, was very difficult but I managed to keep the runes intact," said Tobho Mott with some fear.

"I asked you for a copy of my armor, not just to cover my previous armor with Valyrian steel," said Lothar, looking at his armor that gleamed with Valyrian runes.

"I couldn't think of another way, Graf Lothar. Having to melt down three or four armors to make a new one... would be a sacrilege against the Valyrian legacy. Besides, I couldn't keep the runes, hence the magic of the runes would be lost," said the blacksmith, stepping back a bit as Lothar approached.

"You have what you wanted, Lothar. You are the wearer of a full plate armor of Valyrian steel. It's not perfect, but I suppose the blacksmith will be able to practice a lot to improve his technique since he had plenty of material. Well, I must sail soon, the journey to Wilhelmshaven is long," said the Prussian admiral, taking the boxes where he stored the gifts for his king.

"Update our king on our progress, give him my regards and congratulations," said Lothar, lowering his gaze.

"I'll send the messengers... and get used to your new armor. You'll have to show yourself, we need stories of a knight in Valyrian steel armor soon," said the Finn, leaving the room followed by the rest, leaving the general alone with his new acquisition.

"Wearing heretic armors... it's even funny when I say it," said the Prussian general as he put on his second skin.

In one of the cities within the disputed lands, there was a great festive atmosphere. The reason for all the celebration was the way the governor of this city had found to calm the masses after having declared himself de facto independent, as he did not answer to Tyrosh nor recognize Myr or Lys. Using the funds he should have paid to Tyrosh, he was now providing food to the lower classes and hosting banquets to appease the upper classes.

The governor knew that sooner or later he would have to choose a side, and although Tyrosh had requested his loyalty, he did not want to choose the side that had clearly lost the war. Now, the governor was waiting for one of the two surviving hegemons to make their proposal so he could choose the side that would grant him the most personal privileges.

But the festive atmosphere among the city's rich was disrupted by a guard bringing a message.

"Governor, a messenger from Tyrosh!" said the guard who had entered the banquet hall, whispering to the city's ruler.

"Again? Don't they understand that I have no interest in supporting a lost cause? Send the messenger back; I have no interest in hearing the message," replied the governor with the least bit of interest while the other guests watched their host.

"Governor... with all due respect, the messenger did not merely bring orders for you to return to account to Tyrosh. He came with a very... extreme ultimatum," said the guard, keeping his voice low.

"Pff, and what would the ultimatum be?" asked the governor, almost laughing.

"If by the deadline of next week we do not openly declare support for Tyrosh, the messenger stated that the city will be razed, the inhabitants massacred, and we will regret the day we decided to turn our backs on Tyrosh," said the soldier, somewhat agitated.

"Ha, ha, ha! With what damned army? Their mercenaries have rebelled, they have no one to pay, and they threaten us with destruction? How pathetic! I thought our dear city couldn't sink any lower, but now that a Westerosi has taken power, it seems anything is possible," the governor laughed loudly.

The guests, like sheep, laughed too, even though they didn't understand the reason for the guffaws.

"Tell that messenger to get lost and don't bother me again with such an insignificant matter, only if Myr or Lys sends a diplomat to discuss our future position," said the governor, signaling the guard to leave.

The night continued peacefully as the city kept celebrating.

But the celebrations didn't last long. Three days after the response had been given, the city's governor woke to a bitter surprise.

Outside their walls, a small camp had sprung up. Tyrosh's response had arrived.

Initially, the governor didn't even worry, as the group of men outside his walls didn't even outnumber his garrison. But the governor didn't want to sacrifice his men, as that would hurt his ability to negotiate with the other two free cities. So he just sent messengers to both cities about his situation and waited for help.

His confidence in the situation was quickly shattered when, from time to time, the camp grew and grew, and he saw something he had never seen in his entire life: an armed trebuchet. In his long life, the governor had never experienced a siege firsthand.

He was used to just handing over coins to drive away mercenaries, like many in Essos. He had never been in a siege.

By the end of the week, there was an army of nearly twenty thousand men outside his walls, and several of those war machines had been raised, ready for their mission.

The governor realized he had underestimated his hometown and sent a diplomat to discuss reintegration into the administration of Tyrosh.

Everyone in the city awaited the diplomat's return, hoping the blockade outside the city walls would end.

The diplomat returned, although not in the way everyone expected, as the diplomat returned to the city over the walls, used as ammunition for one of the war machines. In his bloodied, completely destroyed body, there was a message:

"The time to surrender has passed. Only death remains."

Those who could read and understand the message made sure to spread the word that they had to fight for their lives.

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Give me your power stones

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Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

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I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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