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Divide and Conquer, Chapter 17: Family, Faith, Duty
🕑 Added 2025-04-01 06:39:14 +0000 UTCNinth Moon, 107 AD (6 AC)
Visenya
Gulltown was in flames.
A brutal battle was underway as its defenders fought fanatically, street by street, door by door. The Faith had had too long to spread its insidious roots inside the city and far too many of its Militant were still at large, riling up the townsfolk and garrison alike.
Even after the two branches of House Shett had defected to their side for promises of land and vengeance upon the Graftons who had reduced them to mere knights, Visenya and her siblings were still struggling to get the city under control as the battle steadily devolved into a sack.
She narrowed her eyes as she noticed one of their legion centuries being outflanked in a street by a mob of Poor Fellows because the Riverlander levies behind them had broken ranks to start looting and pillaging the city.
A disgusting lack of discipline. One that she would be sure to punish them for later. But first –
“Dracarys,” she said coldly and with a controlled blast, Vhagar reduced the outflanking mob to cinders, saving the legion from a bad situation.
She urged Vhagar onwards, her bronze wings beating heavily as they zipped across the city. In the distance she espied her siblings atop their own dragons as they patrolled overhead, doing their best to aid their embattled ground forces against the defiant resistance without setting the whole city on fire and killing friends and foe alike.
Aegon had given her and Rhaenys precise instructions as well to avoid burning the harbor and other economically important areas of the city since they meant to annex Gulltown (as well as Runestone to the north) into their direct demesne as one of their Crown Provinces.
There was no reason for that to be preserved however, Visenya thought as she noticed the motherhouse sitting on a stony island in the harbor. The rainbow and seven-pointed star banners of the Faith Militant flew from the roof of the motherhouse, a commanding position that was troubling their fleet’s attempt to seize control of the harbor.
Her decision made, Visenya directed Vhagar towards the motherhouse. She knew that there were many innocents within. Matrons and sisters whose only sin was their service to the Faith, children as young as her own whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Visenya did not balk as even her siblings might have at that thought. This was war, and cruel things happened in war.
Vhagar’s greenish-blue flames incinerated the motherhouse within minutes and Visenya nodded to herself at a job well done. Hundreds of their men would have died storming the motherhouse and rooting out the Faith Militant holed up within, men she had saved to fight on in future battles and campaigns.
It was nothing personal, merely the stone-cold efficiency expected of her. They called Rhaenys the ruthless one for her actions in the Iron Islands campaign but Visenya had always been even more so. She just hadn’t been able to show it back then due to unfortunate circumstances.
This time however, she would. No matter the cost, she would deliver victory to her house. She cared not if that meant even more of their enemies would name her the vile Witch-Queen. The more they feared her, the easier her task became.
Regardless of her resolve however, the Sack of Gulltown would continue for another week before the fires finally died out and the last slivers of resistance had been crushed. When the dust settled, every last Poor Fellow and Warrior’s Son in the city had been killed to a man and a third of the city with them. The remainder of House Grafton’s forces had surrendered once they had captured the keep and House Grafton and were now under the command of the defecting Shetts and would be put to use subjugating the rest of the Vale.
It would take years to repair the damage to the city and make it economically productive again. She could already hear Aegon’s complaints though Visenya didn’t mind all too much. Economic value was simply one part of the equation after all. Examples had to be made out of those that were defiant and refused to bow to those greater than them.
As a red dawn broke on the eighth day, Visenya met with her siblings to discuss what their next move would be.
“The Graftons are complaining about their imprisonment,” Rhaenys said amusedly.
Aegon scoffed, a smirk on his face. “They can complain till the crows turn white. It won’t be long before we move them to join the Arryns and all the other prisoners in Summerhall.”
Visenya had a smirk of his own. “The Royces need moving as well.”
Almost all the nobility in the Vale were slated for attaintment due to their religiously motivated and stubborn resistance. A few had also been singled out for removal years ago regardless of their resistance because their fiefs were desired for House Targaryen’s personal demesne or as the seats for their three chosen Wardens in the Vale.
The Arryns, Royces, and Graftons were some of those singled out houses but they were far from the only ones that would be imprisoned in Summerhall. The rest of the nobles they had captured as well as hostages from defectors like the Shetts would also be sent to Summerhall, alongside the ancestral Valyrian steel swords of Houses Royce and Corbray, Lamentation and Lady Forlorn, taken as spoils of war for House Targaryen. Once the Vale was completely pacified, they’d keep the hostages from the defectors for Alternate Attendance and send all the males of the attainted houses to the Wall and the females to the Riverlands’ Exceptionalist branch of the silent sisters which answered to Summerhall instead of the Starry Sept.
“We can move them by ship out of Gulltown. I don’t particularly fancy flying all the way back to Summerhall just to carry the prisoners like I did with the Arryns and the inland route isn’t exactly safe at the moment,” Aegon said.
Rhaenys frowned. “Hubert Arryn has been quite the headache for us.”
“He is a nuisance that we will crush once we are done with the lowlands,” Visenya said determinedly. This time at least, she’d make sure the campaign was done before she left.
“Tis a shame that the Vale destroyed all the old mountain clans, turning them to our side would have made the task easier but oh well. We still have glass candles to do the job and perhaps it is better in the end that they have disposed of those undesirables for us already,” Aegon contributed.
Visenya agreed with her husband. While the aid of the mountain clans would have been invaluable in rooting out Hubert Arryn and his ilk holed up in the Mountains of the Moon, it was ultimately unnecessary and it would be better for them to not have to ally with them. Such raiding savages had no place in the Empire they sought to create after all.
They had plenty of time to deal with Hubert Arryn. Despite their initial concerns, it seemed that their plan to leverage the Arryns as hostages against their would be allies in the south had succeeded as they had heard no word of any hostile actions by them beyond some precautionary mustering of their forces along the border, which they had already accounted for.
Later Visenya wondered if her thoughts had jinxed her because it was not long after that a messenger interrupted their private meeting. “Forgive me Your Graces, a raven has just arrived from Summerhall bearing the seal of Lord Daemon Velaryon.”
That confused all three of them.
“Lord Velaryon? Not Prince Aerion or Princess Valaena?” Rhaenys asked.
“That’s correct, Your Grace,” the messenger said as he walked into the room and handed the message over to Aegon.
Visenya and Rhaenys shared a glance. It was not like receiving correspondence from their uncle was necessarily cause to worry but it was certainly unexpected when their children should have been and had been their main correspondents from Summerhall. They watched as the expression on Aegon’s face turned from curiosity into a roaring anger barely kept leashed by the calculating mind of a conqueror.
Without even asking, Visenya snatched the message out of his hands and her own rage began to grow as she read it. The first part of the message was a transcript of another, a declaration that had clearly been sent to Summerhall and to the rest of the continent. It read as followed:
“We the High Septon and Most Devout, representatives of the Seven Who Are One on earth, speak now from the Starry Sept, the most sacred seat of the Faith. Millennia ago, our brave ancestors were forced to flee from their homeland, the holy lands of Hugor of the Hill, by the demon dragonlords of Old Valyria and their evils of slavery, perversion, and dark magic.
“Now House Targaryen, the last scions of that evil empire have followed us into our new homeland, the promised land of Westeros. No longer content with driving us from Andalos, the last dragonlords seek to take Westeros from us as well! They seek to pervert and corrupt our homeland and our Faith with heresies, blasphemies, paganism, polygamy, incest, and slavery and destroy all that we hold dear.
“Already they have set the Rivermen against their brothers and sisters, cast down the faithful of the Westerlands and subjugated them and even now they try and enslave the Vale, with the honorable House Arryn held as captives and subjected to great evils. It is clear that their ambitions can no longer be sated, that they shall not rest until every last corner of Westeros is under their yoke! If nothing is done, we will surely all suffer under the evil of Valyria once more!
“No more! The Faith hereby declares a Holy War! The Faith Militant shall lead the charge against the evils of the abominations and cast them back into the abyss from whence they came!
“We call upon all the faithful, poor and rich, king and vassal, noble and smallfolk alike, to join us! Rise up against the heresy and devilry of the Targaryen incestuous and bigamous abominations, their blasphemous Doctrine of Exceptionalism, and their pagan, heathen, deviant and slaving ways! Beat back the abominations and the slavers and sinners who follow them! Cast down their oppression and restore the purity of our homeland!
“Houses Gardener, Durrandon, Hightower, and more have already declared for our banner but we need more brave men to step up and answer the call from all the kingdoms, to form a great coalition! To Reachmen, Stormlanders, Dornish, and Northmen, we beseech you rise up and free your brothers and sisters! To the Valemen we ask that you keep faith as we come to your aid! To the Westerlanders we ask that you join us as we liberate you and restore a Lannister to the Golden Throne so that you might be free once more! And to the Rivermen, we ask that you see through the lies that you have been deceived with and join with your brethren once more.
“Rise up all ye Faithful and heed the call of the Seven! Down with the false king and the whorish witches and sinful sisters he claims as wives and their abominable incest-born dragonspawn! Down with his slaver servants! Rise up and overthrow the Targaryens and know that thee shall find great reward in paradise when thou time hast come. So speak the Seven Who Are One!”
Her anger had already been stoked by the insulting denunciation and declaration of Holy War the Faith had sent and it grew even more as her uncle reported in the second part of the message how the armies of the Faith, the Reach, and the Stormlands, the self-described ‘Coalition’ had begun invading their realm with attacks aimed against Crakehall, Stoney Sept, and Dragonport.
It burst almost beyond her control when her uncle related how Aerion and Valaena had chosen to respond.
“Those stupid, foolish children. They didn’t even inform us!” Visenya growled as she handed the message to Rhaenys and saw the same emotions writ on her face as she read.
“Orys can have command while we are gone. We fly for Summerhall immediately,” Aegon declared. “Once we are there, we will decide what to do next.”
“Agreed,” Rhaenys said, crushing the message in her hands.
Visenya nodded as well though she could not help but lament leaving yet another campaign unfinished midway to return to Summerhall, though she knew the circumstances could not be more different.
Over five years had passed but she still had not forgotten how she had failed her family in the Iron Islands. She would never resent her beloved son Aemon, but she still regretted bitterly the timing of his coming though that was a fault she had always held against herself and not her son.
Time and the assurances of her family had helped the wound heal but Visenya had long ago sworn that she would never fail her family again. Even when her son and niece were making that task harder for her with their foolishness, Visenya refused to let their family falter or fail.
If the Faith thought that this slip of paper was going to scare them, scare her? She’d show them the true meaning of fear. She’d show them why she was known as Visenya the Valiant, the Victorious, and the Witch-Queen. Those epithets might have just been the slander of enemies and the praises of bards her sister had paid to make her feel better but she’d make sure to truly earn them sometime very soon.
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Aerion
Council meetings were rarely interesting. Aerion would know. He had attended almost every single one since he had been six years old. Granted he had just been a cupbearer for many years but the whole point of making one’s heir a council cupbearer was for them to attend the meetings anyway.
Most council meetings were really just about the day to day running of the realm, the whys and wherefores of administrating a vast kingdom and future empire. Yet without fail his parents and aunt had attended near every single meeting ever since the Elder Council had been instituted unless they had a valid reason to be absent and Aerion followed their example.
Because as rulers it was important that they stayed abreast of what was going on in their realm. That they made sure the council was doing their duties correctly and efficiently without scheming to benefit at the realm’s expense. Sure, the scribes recorded down everything that was said in the meeting minutes and the Chancellor and all the other Councilors were required to send written reports of their activities to the royal family and to their peers on a weekly basis but nothing beat hearing those reports firsthand from the officials in question at the actual meetings.
It was only really through attending the meetings and giving their orders that they could truly rule and make their will known. To bring to fruition the vision that their family had for their realm. Every boring meeting about the value of the currency or the logistics of the construction of new infrastructure was another step on the path to making the grand empire his family dreamed of a reality.
The empire that he was meant to inherit. An empire that he meant to truly rule, not just reign over while councilors governed on his behalf.
It wasn’t all boring. On occasion, interesting meetings did come about where the councilors would report great strides in completing a project or a foreign dignitary would present an offer the Council and monarch would have to consider.
And sometimes, truly important and critical meetings were held.
The mood in the council room was dire as the declaration of Holy War from the Starry Sept was read out. Grim faces and looks of anger and outrage were all that could be seen.
“Reports have come in from our rangers on the border that the Coalition is already on the move. An army from the Stormlands has crossed the Blackwater and is laying siege to Dragonport even as we speak. Another army spearheaded by the Warrior’s Sons is bearing down on Stoney Sept and yet another force is coming up from the Reach and attacking Crakehall,” the Ranger Commandant, Crowley, reported with a frown.
His mother’s deputy as the Mistress of Whisperers concurred with Crowley, though none but Aerion and Valaena knew any exact details of the organization known as the King’s Eyes. “There are rumors of supposed ‘smallfolk rebellions’ in the Westerlands though we suspect that they are merely Poor Fellows who have infiltrated the region. We have also begun to trace some connections between their funding and equipment and the lower nobility of the Westerlands.”
Aerion clenched his fist beneath the table as he heard that. They should have known that they had been too merciful in allowing so many of the Westerlords to become Defenders and Keepers in their kingdom. A mistake they would soon correct, Aerion was sure of that.
“Whispers have also come saying the Northmen are mustering at Moat Cailin though we have yet to confirm whether or not they intend to take part in the Coalition,” the Eye continued.
His grand uncle, the Master of Ships and Interim Grand Chancellor, Lord Daemon Velaryon looked despondent. “Rebellions in the Westerlands, a Holy War declared by the High Septon, an invasion from the south by the Faith Militant, the Reach, and the Stormlands, the North calling its banners, and the King and Queens away in the Vale? What’s next? Are we going to hear the Dornish have put aside their quarrels with their ancient foes and taken up arms against us as well?”
“Reports coming in from Dorne are conflicted. They suggest a split with some of the more pious lords amenable to declaring for the Coalition and the Faith’s Holy War. Others advocate taking advantage of the Reach and Stormlands’ distraction to raid them. It is possible Dorne may commit to either option, split down the middle, or even do neither. We can only wait and see,” the Eye reported dutifully.
The glare that Uncle Daemon gave the Deputy Master of Whisperers after that made it clear his question had been a rhetorical one.
The heat in his gaze soon dissipated into a defeated sigh as he seemed to almost sink into his seat. “The King and Queens have to be informed immediately. They took most of our best troops with them when they invaded the Vale and without them, we stand little chance of holding the border against the invaders.”
“Did not the King and Queens make preparations for this very scenario beforehand?” Aerion inquired, speaking for the first time. “Is our southern border not secure?”
“They did my prince, but the scale of the coalition arrayed against us… I fear even Their Graces’ preparations would falter against the tide that is soon to fall upon us. It will take months for the armies in the Vale to be recalled or new ones raised to hold the border and by then the invaders could have penetrated deep into our realm and caused untold suffering. Fortunately, Their Graces have dragons and they could buy us the time we need easily once they are informed.”
A thought occurred to Aerion then. A dangerous, crazy thought and yet one that made strategic and logical sense and that was all that had been drilled into him ever since he had been old enough to talk.
Aerion made his decision, an impulsive one no doubt, and yet one that he grew increasingly confident in. “Though my parents and aunt must of course be informed, I see little need for them to be summoned back home Lord Velaryon. Their campaign in the Vale is at a sensitive stage and cannot be disturbed. A far more superior strategic option has just unveiled itself to me.”
He could see it in Uncle Daemon’s eyes that he thought him a child playing king but he was too respectful of royal authority to say it. “Very well my prince, I am curious what you have in mind. I still very much think that we need dragons to deal with this crisis,” he could not help but add.
“And you shall have one. A dragonrider stands before you Lord Velaryon,” Aerion said as he rose from his seat.
The silence in the council room was so thick you could have heard a pin drop in that moment. The councilors all stared at him, and Aerion could see the look on all of their faces. All of them thought the same thing but none of them were brave enough to gainsay their prince. All but one.
Uncle Daemon sighed. “My prince, your bravery is appreciated but… you are only three and ten. It would not be right for this Council to send you to the battlefield.”
At that Aerion became ever so slightly annoyed. “You misunderstand me, Lord Velaryon. This Council does not have the authority to send me or any member of my family anywhere. Am I not your prince? The royal regent empowered with the authority to rule, to speak in my father’s name? This mission I accept out of my own volition… no, I command it so.”
“I will fly on Caraxes and I will put down these invaders myself. Let all the enemies of our kingdom learn that a young dragon is no less dangerous than its sires. They will pay the price all who dare to attack our people pay.”
Lord Velaryon grew increasingly agitated then. “My prince, please reconsider. Think of what your parents will think when they hear you have volunteered yourself for this mission unnecessarily! You are only a young boy of three and ten, none would hold it against you if you do not fly to war. In fact, we would prefer it! You are the heir of the King! You cannot be risked like this!”
“If the King’s heir never risks himself, he will make a poor king indeed when it is his time to rule,” Aerion mused. “No Lord Velaryon, my decision is final. I will put down these invaders myself.”
“Not by yourself,” a voice interjected then and Aerion turned in shock to see Valaena rising from her seat.
The look on her face was challenging, as if she was daring him to even try and countermand her. “I will be going with you. Two dragons are better than one, and someone needs to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”
Despite his shock and his own worries for Valaena’s life (worries he realized that she must be feeling as well), Aerion could not help but think on how right it felt for him and Valaena to be doing this together. The Red Twins, together as always, carrying out their duties to their kingdom with grace and honor.
The council did not share his sentiments however. While some looked a bit less nervous at the idea of both of them going, others looked even more nervous, no doubt wondering what they would tell their parents if they had allowed both of them to go and get themselves killed. Aerion was confident that no such thing would happen though.
Untested as Valaena and he may be in true battle, they were scions of House Targaryen, the eldest son and daughter of the Conquering Three. Battle was their birthright and the two of them had almost learned how to fly before they had even learned to walk. Caraxes and Meleys were fearsome beasts and there were no foes that could bring them down.
“It is settled then,” Aerion said. Most of the Council looked resigned, aware they had no power to stop them but Lord Velaryon still protested.
“Write your letter for our parents still if you must Lord Velaryon. In fact, I shall make it my official order, for you are right. They are still our King and Queens and this is imperative information that they must know. Please kindly inform them on our behalf that we are flying to fulfill the duties they entrusted us with and defending the kingdom.
“Once you are done with that task, I need you to call all our banners for war and send orders to the Twins and Seagard to reinforce the northern border and to all the other holdfasts in the realm to raise reinforcements and direct them to the southern border posthaste. They shall be needed for the war to come.”
Sensing that there was little point in arguing further, Uncle Daemon bowed his head. “As you command my prince.”
“The rest of you are to assist Lord Velaryon in drafting these orders and making the preparations for them to be fulfilled. Time is running short and we must move quickly to defend our realm. This meeting is adjourned,” Aerion told the other councilors before he turned to leave the room, Valaena quick on his heels.
“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” she whispered to him.
“No. But remember what Father always says? You can never be sure. You have to make a decision anyway and if we always choose the safe and easy option, our house will never achieve its dream. It makes strategic sense Valaena. Caraxes and Meleys are wasted just sitting here in Summerhall and our parents will spread themselves thin if they try and respond to these new threats while also continuing the campaign in the Vale at the same time. We can help. We have to.”
“They’ll be angry with us,” Valaena said, the slightest trace of fear in her voice.
“Better to ask forgiveness than permission,” Aerion said with a confidence he didn’t truly feel.
“Do you really think that?” Valaena knew him too well.
Aerion hesitated.
“We have a much faster means of communication than ravens,” she reminded him.
“I’ll have Caraxes and Meleys saddled; you’ll need to direct Meleys to the roof of Dragonsreach so the Dragonkeepers and I can see to her. Call them with the candle then meet me there,” he decided.
Valaena nodded.
As he walked up to the roof, Aerion could not help but recall the last in person conversation he had had with his father.
“When your mother, your aunt and I are away, you will be the regent. You know what this means don’t you?” his father asked.
“I will rule on your behalf. The Council will handle the administrative load on a day-to-day basis but the final decision will always be mine.
“And do you know what that means?”
At that, Aerion had no answer.
“It means that you will be the one responsible for ruling and protecting our kingdom. Our enemies watch us closely Aerion. Though we hope that our capture of the Arryns will give them pause, it would not truly be a surprise if they act in some way against us in retaliation for our campaign against the Vale. It is the utmost last resort, but if it comes to it Aerion, I expect you to protect our people, our family.”
“I will Father. I promise,” Aerion replied.
He wondered what his father would think of him keeping his promise like this. Would he approve? Would he be angry that he risked his life at such a young age but proud of him for being so responsible? Aerion supposed he would be finding out soon.
He wouldn’t lie the idea of gaining great glory and renown from success in battle was appealing but he was only three and ten and there would be plenty of time for such things later if need be. What Aerion wanted more than anything was to do his part in contributing to his family’s mission, to make their dream even a little bit easier to realize. To protect his family and kingdom. It was his duty as the heir.
By the time Valaena came to meet him on the roof, Aerion and the Dragonkeepers had saddled Caraxes and Meleys and waited for some time. Aerion soon noticed that Valaena was not alone either.
Aegor and Rhaena were with her. Aerion did his best to ignore his own worries bubbling back to the surface at the sight of their clearly worried faces. He turned his attention to Valaena but she shook her head.
“I tried over and over again. No reply. All three of them,” she said.
“The last time we spoke to them, they said they were at the gates of Gulltown. They must be storming the city right now.”
“Whatever the reason is, they don’t know. What do we do? Do we wait?” Valaena asked, looking uncertain.
“No. We can’t wait,” Aerion decided. “The longer we wait the deeper the invaders make it into our territory. We have to act as soon as possible.”
“Are you two really going to go? Even without our parents knowing?” Rhaena asked, looking frightened.
“It looks like we are little sister,” Valaena said before turning to him. “If you think it best we go Aerion then I’m with you to the end.”
“Let me come,” Aegor said suddenly, looking determined.
“NO!” Aerion didn’t even realize both him and Valaena had shouted before Aegor and Rhaena both shied away.
“No Aegor,” he said again, softer and kinder. “Valaena and I are risking a lot as it is. You cannot come with us. Protect Rhaena and the rest of our siblings while we protect the kingdom alright? We’ll be back before you know it, right as rain.”
“Aerion’s right Aegor. There’s no way those Andal arrows will bring down him and Valaena! They’re the finest riders out of the eight of us!” Rhaena said cheerfully but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Aerion smiled nonetheless, ruffling his little sister’s hair affectionately before he turned to Valaena.
“We’ll make for Dragonport first,” he told her before he mounted his dragon. Valaena nodded.
As Caraxes took off into the sky, Meleys quick on his tail, Aerion did his best to bring his rapidly beating heart under control. He had flown hundreds if not thousands of times before but this would be the first time that he would be flying to battle, to war.
For all the bravado and confidence, he had shown to the Council, to his siblings, and even to Valaena, Aerion could not deny to himself how nervous he felt. He hoped he was making the right decision.
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Author’s Note: Another short(ish) chapter but one that I hope felt more substantial than last month’s! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and the beginnings of the Coalition/Holy War at long last!
I thought to specify since it’s so close to the start of the month but this will indeed be our monthly chapter for April! I have a bit of another break sometime in mid-April for Easter so there may or may not be a bonus early Chapter 18 then if I have time (I have a lot of assignments due in April as well so we shall wait and see if I can make it work) and if not then y’all can expect Chapter 18 in the first few weeks of May as I have study break right before my exams (I’ll write 18 and then study). Got a lot cooked up for Chapter 18 and the coming arcs so stay tuned!
I realized I should have added the Vale maps last chapter so I'm editing them into Chapter 16 and also putting here for ease of reference for all of y'all! Thanks to Jordan Redstark as always for making them!
Let me know your thoughts, suggestions, and questions in the comments below or over on Discord! https://discord.com/invite/NSEwuzpcWm
Comments
Tertius711
Excellent! I look forward to seeing your thoughts on Chapters 18-21!
Luca
Nicely done. Love the twins
Tertius711
Because there's a lot of valuable land in the Vale. The Eyrie and its lands are a must ofc and taking Gulltown and Runestone basically allows them to control the Vale's economy. The two Crown Provinces combined basically makes the Targaryens the Vale for all intents and purposes and ensures the region's most productive lands and ports are all under their rule, aiding the centralization project and funding the royal treasury. The Vale is only the first of a number of regions that shall have multiple crown provinces. Stay tuned!
Kyle Pemberton
Why are they going for two crown provinces in the Vale?
Tertius711
Indeed. We shall see if their risk pays off next chapter!
Chayut Panvilai
That's a lot of risk they are taking but they have dragons so it might work out great tbh
Tertius711
Yeah I know but Velaryon and Celtigar are trusted and oldest loyalists and in fact the Velaryons are Aegon's own first cousins. But yes fret not we are just about done. There's one more Celtigar branch and one Qoherys branch and after them all the other Wards are new houses from Lys and Myr. Stay tuned to see what the future Ward Maps look like! Wdyt of the rest of the chapter other than perfect?
James Mackenzie
Great chapter, but you really need to come up with some other houses to put in charge of wards because velaryon and Celtigar are getting kind a repetitive and overly powerful. Other than that though perfect chapter
