Chapter 197

Essos, Myr.

Myr, one of the lesser daughters of Valyria, found itself gripped by no small degree of unease. The Golden Company, the men who for nearly a decade had guaranteed the city's dominance over the Disputed Lands, were preparing to sail for the Sunset Kingdom. Over the years the common folk had grown used to the constant watch of the finest mercenaries in the world, and now a quiet panic had set in. Matters had reached the point where the city's wealthier residents (the only ones who held any say at all) were demanding the magisters take action. The city's rulers, meanwhile, were quietly relieved to be rid of the hole in the treasury, Harry Strickland, the company's captain general, charged eye watering sums for his services.

But the Free City's politics held no interest for the Golden Company's captains; they had weightier troubles at hand than the grumbling of a few fat purses. In a spacious chamber, the final gathering took place before all seventeen thousand soldiers set sail for Westeros. On the agenda sat a letter sent by the Old Griff. Alongside the general state of the continent, Connington had laid out the terms by the Falcon's Eye, and they stirred a decidedly mixed reaction.

"That's... bold, to put it politely," Mandrake managed to say, choosing his words with care.

"Axel, ever the same," Aegon said, a strained smile on his face. "Lord Varys, what do you have to say about this information"

"Yes, Your Grace." Varys, the newest addition to the gathering, gave a brief nod. "Lord Jon has done remarkable work, and provided even fuller information than my own." No one quite believed that last part, but no one argued it either.

The eunuch's confirmation lifted the room's spirits, and the men present began viewing their whole venture in a rather brighter light. Just as fortune had never favored the Starks in the south, it had never favored the Golden Company in Westeros either. Nearly a century of unbroken defeat would turn anyone into a pessimist, seasoned sellswords chasing profit included. The captains welcomed the news that all future opposition stood either destroyed or well on its way there. By the time they arrived, nothing of any real strength would remain, and the one man capable of standing against them would already have thrown in with King Aegon. All well and good, except the terms of the Falcon's eye's alliance left them deeply uneasy.

"Take Storm's End and Dragonstone?! HA, why not every castle in the realm while we're at it?!" Balaq had never cared for Axel and never missed a chance to take him down a peg. "What in the seven hells do we need him for, if we're the ones storming the toughest keeps in the realm?"

"Not quite so blunt, but Balaq's point stands," Gorys Edoryen, the company's treasurer, backed him up. "Meet these... terms, and we won't need Arryn at all." Strickland gave a faint smirk but said nothing.

In the Golden Company, you either loved Axel Arryn or hated him; there was no middle ground. The Falcon had risen too fast, his achievements weighed too heavy, and it stirred either envy or awe in men in equal measure. Within the ranks he counted as a figure of real weight, and how could he not, given his record in the field, but the true peak of his fame had come with his appointment as the King's Hand. Only recently he had been spilling blood alongside them, and now he stood as the most powerful man in a vast realm, offering the company's veterans a pension in some city watch.

"The Seven Kingdoms cannot be called the Seven Kingdoms without the Vale." With every passing day, Aegon sounded more and more like a true king. "Dragonstone is my ancestral seat; it must be reclaimed first of all, and Storm's End is the stronghold of the Baratheon rebels. Taking it sends a strong message to every lord in Westeros."

"Just so, Your Grace, but no one in all of history has ever taken Storm's End by direct assault." Dying in the storming of an unconquerable castle was the last thing Maar wanted for himself. "I consider Arryn's terms unacceptable, and I strongly urge we hold to the original plan."

Arrive in Westeros, finish off whoever remained standing (Dothraki or stormlanders), bend the Stormlands to their will using the region's own internal fractures, and bring the Reach to its knees. Two regions in hand would give them the leverage to negotiate with the Martells and with Rhaenys, and turn the full weight of the south against whatever pockets of resistance remained. Simple, and flexible for it. Its only real weaknesses lay in the demand for speed and the uncertain positions of the other Targaryens. Rhaenys, Viserys, and, as it now turned out, Daenerys too, all kept their own counsel and showed little hurry to cooperate with kin. The captains judged that striking a deal with Viserys was unlikely, but with Rhaenys, Aegon's own sister, quite possible. Daenerys... she was a harder case entirely, and no one had managed to come up with a workable answer there.

"Casterly Rock was likewise considered unconquerable, until recently." If one miracle could be pulled off, why not a second? "I consider a couple months spent on a siege a fine investment for twenty thousand men. Unlike the rest of Westeros, some two thousand swords in the Vale's army came up through the Golden Company; Arryn himself once stood among us. The Vale is the region we stand the best chance of working with wisely."

"Don't mistake me, I'm not against an alliance with Arryn, but his terms cut too deep. Chase after meeting them and we'll lose more than we gain!"

"...There's no conquering Westeros without allies!"

"...In our case, there is. Start dancing to Arryn's tune and we show weakness!"

"Enough." Aegon spoke, but no one heard him save Strickland.

"QUIET DOWN!" The captain general's bark cut the rising argument short. "Forgive me, Your Grace!"

"Thank you." Aegon nodded. "We will not make Lord Arryn's terms our first priority, but consider this, my lords. Dragonstone and Storm's End are both strategically vital castles, and regardless of the situation, we will need to take them if we mean to bring the south and center of Westeros to heel. So let us return to more pressing matters."

"Wisely said, Your Grace," Varys said, that perpetual smile fixed on his face.

An hour later, the final council came to a close, and the following day hundreds of ships set sail from the port of Tyrosh. The Golden Company, the mightiest free company in the world, seventeen thousand strong, set out to conquer Westeros.