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Divide and Conquer, Chapter 15: Citizens and Foes
🕑 Added 2025-02-12 15:13:04 +0000 UTCSeventh Moon, 107 AD (6 AC)
The Builder
“Blane! Take a seat!” Darren said as he walked into the tavern.
He smiled at the sight of some of his colleagues playing cards and drinking at the table in the corner. He took his seat and got dealt into the game as soon as he had ordered his meal and drink from the waitress, a rather cute and mousy young woman.
Blane entertained the thought of asking her name before his colleagues cut him off with inquires after his day.
“How was work today?” Darren asked.
“Same as usual. Progress is going well laying down the roads for the streets. How was yours?” he asked back.
“Much the same. We’ve been blessed with good fortune and speed in our work for the past few months,” Darren replied.
The rest of the table chipped in after that, giving brief updates on their various projects throughout the city. Construction on the various aqueducts, neighborhoods, sewers, and the like was going well, and Blane could not help but feel pleased.
Twelve years ago Blane could never have imagined what the future had in store for him. Barely six and ten and already enthralled and doomed to labor on Harren the Black’s monstrous castle, he had watched friends die beneath the whips of their captors every day, wondering when it would be his turn. He could not have known that the Targaryens would come and liberate the Riverlands and free the thralls. He couldn’t have known that they’d take him and so many like him into their service and give them a second chance at life.
With their experience in building, the workers that had previously labored on Harrenhal had been of great value to the Targaryens. Yet they had been treated not as slaves or thralls but as valued workers and people in their own right. Paid handsomely and given the opportunity to study, and learn, to become better than they had been before.
Blane and Darren were but a few of the many who had joined the Order of Builders under the Master of Works, Lord Iranos Ormollen, and they were just a few of those that had risen high to foremen and senior laborers. Across the Riverlands, Westerlands, and Iron Islands their brethren went, bringing order and infrastructure everywhere they went and overseeing great works and projects that would knit the nascent realm together. But here in Summerhall a task of even greater majesty had been bestowed upon them. To bring to life the Targaryens’ vision for the grand capital of their realm. For the castle and city of Summerhall.
The roads that Blane oversaw the construction of, great and massive avenues laid down in cobblestone and concrete, would crisscross a great city in a radial grid, creating spacious streets and airy alleys, making room for homes, shops, neighborhoods, markets and so much more. Far beyond them all, a line demarcated where the eventual double outer walls of the city would be raised.
That line arced its way north and west until it met the planned route for the river. There were plans for two nearby rivers, one of which was the Rippledown Rill, to be diverted close to the city both to provide another source of drinking water and a source of flowing water to power the city’s industries, artisanries, and mills. The flowing water would also readily supply the city with enough water to feed its tanneries and then the sewers, planned plumbing systems, and flushing toilets that would flush the waste far towards the east and away from the city proper.
A series of aqueducts, wells, fountains, copper pipes, and public baths had also been planned that would help carry and spread fresh drinking and bathing water from the lake, the river, the groundwater below, and from other surrounding streams and rivers to all the future residents of the city.
Rumors were even spreading that the Big Willow that flowed into the Trident would be diverted towards Harroway and linked to Rippledown Rill with a canal to provide a maritime route between the Trident and Dragons Eye. Blane could not help but feel eager to help work on and oversee that project should it ever come to fruition. It would no doubt do wonders for the prosperity of the Riverlands and for both Summerhall and Harroway.
Until then however, work would be underway completing the rest of Summerhall City. Towards the southwest and due west of Summerhall Castle itself, the main ports and docks of the city were planned to stand, directly adjacent to both the castle and the river as well as the markets and the artisan and industry districts. The far side of the intended river would also be much the same and the planned double walls would continue on the other side of the river to encircle that part of the future city. Boom chains and river walls would shield both sides from river-borne foes though the ports, watermills, and some of the markets and artisanries were all without the walls. The two sides would also be connected by a series of dual drawbridges (long traditional stone arched bridges with two large gatehouse drawbridges in the middle which rested on a central platform when lowered) that would allow for the passage of both people and ships.
There would be homes, businesses, schools, septs, and so much more. Temples, administrative buildings, manses for nobles and magisters, forges and shops for blacksmiths and artisans, barracks for the Royal Legion and Knights and any eventual city watch to help patrol the streets, and so much more.
Everything that one could imagine in a proper city, and everything extra that befit the capital of a great kingdom. Mighty monuments and notable landmarks and buildings that would serve great purposes.
There was already the Royal University, the nascent palace in front of the castle, and plans for a colosseum and even a Great Sept. Despite House Targaryen’s laws forbidding the Faith of the Seven’s religious and clergy of the higher canons from entering into their realm without permission, those that held to the Doctrine of Exceptionalism were well, an exception to this rule, and didn’t truly answer to the Starry Sept any more than the Sept of Snows in White Harbor did.
Who knew what else their employers had in mind?
The entire city was being designed and planned by the finest minds in both Westeros and Essos, notable and skilled artisans, architects, and engineers. As a foreman Blane was one of the few outside those esteemed ranks who knew so much about the plans for the city and he couldn’t wait to see them all realized. Summerhall City would be a sight to see when it was all complete, the pride of the Riverlands, no of the continent!
He noticed Darren and the others rising to their feet all of a sudden. Following their gaze, he was quick to do the same. They bowed their heads slightly in acknowledgement to their superior, Lord Ormollen, the Master of Works. He was not alone, as a few guards and aides accompanied him.
“What is he doing here?” Blane could not help but wonder. While Lord Ormollen often left the castle to oversee their work and inspect the progress, Blane had never once seen him deign to mingle with them in the tavern like this.
Lord Ormollen turned to each of them and addressed them by name each, not unkindly but with a certain amount of distance and detachment. Blane could sense a haughtiness that the lord was doing his best to keep out of his demeanor, as usual. It irritated him a little but he was aware that Ormollen was a noble and few nobles would even make the effort he was. At the end of the day, they all served the Targaryens and it was not like Ormollen was an unfair or incapable leader.
“I’m pleased to announce that all of you will be receiving a bonus with this month’s pay. The King’s orders. He would like to thank you all for your hard work this past year and the quick progress on his city,” Ormollen told them.
Regardless of his opinions on Ormollen himself, more coin would never fail to gladden Blane’s heart. Knowing the King had noticed his and his colleagues’ hard work made it all the more sweeter.
“Thank you very much my lord, and please, pass our gratitude on to His Grace as well. Though, I am sure you can’t be passing through the tavern just to tell us this,” Darren observed.
“You are right. I have other tasks to see to in the city,” Lord Ormollen said politely.
“Can you delay those tasks long enough to have a drink with us?” Blane decided to offer, feeling that a bonus warranted a celebration, even with the oft haughty and distant Lord Ormollen.
A slight smile appeared on the Lyseni’s face. “Very well then.”
The pretty waitress from earlier was quick with their order and once their pints of ale and beer were all on the table, they raised their cups to toast together.
“What shall we toast to?” one of the other foremen asked.
“Besides the obvious? Good health for all of us and our families, and quick progress and light work on our projects! May the city of Summerhall continue to grow and rise steadfastly and surely!” Darren cheered and they chorused with him.
Blane raised a toast then. “To House Targaryen. May their reign of prosperity and generosity continue forever more!”
“I’ll drink to that!” Darren agreed heartily.
To his surprise, Blane saw the usually reserved Lord Ormollen was agreeing cheerily. “As will I. His Grace took my kin and I in after the fall of Lys to the damn Volantenes and we shall never forget the debt we owe him for that kindness. Long live House Targaryen!”
“Long live House Targaryen!” they all chorused loudly, drawing the attention of the tavern’s other patrons. It wasn’t long before the entire tavern was joining their toast, for all present had many reasons to cheer for House Targaryen, regardless of their occupation in life. Their rule over the Riverlands had been nothing short of a miracle and a blessing after the tyranny of the Hoares and there was much goodwill to go around.
As the toasts continued in the tavern, Blane idly considered opening an account in the Royal Bank managed by Lord Rogare of the Elder Council. He’d heard that some of the other foremen had also done so and the interest was very lucrative.
After all, why be content to be a mere foreman forever when he could rise even higher still? Such was the beauty of the realm that House Targaryen created, a realm that allowed even a former peasant and thrall like him to rise to heights he could never have imagined before.
Perhaps one day, this greatness would extend to more of Westeros, just as it already did to the Westerlands and Iron Islands. Blane thought that he’d quite like seeing that almost as much as he would Summerhall City’s completion.
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The Courtier
Court was a wondrous place to Lady Marianne Vance. While her family were not obliged to attend court as mere Defenders instead of Wardens, they did so anyway and Marianne could not be gladder for it.
Atranta would always feel like home to her but Summerhall was infinitely grander and more luxurious. Her quarters in the Tower of Spring were larger and more spacious than her chambers back in Atranta were and those were her rooms as a guest not as the eldest daughter of the lord of the castle. A testament to the enormity and power of her kingdom’s capital.
Black Harren had beggared the Riverlands to ornament his dream and while the Targaryens had returned much of that stolen wealth, they had been quick to replace it with their own. The luxuries and amenities casually given to even the least of the courtiers and guests at court was truly a most effective display of wealth and power.
For those blessed enough to be allowed into the court of Summerhall, there was no shortage of things to entertain oneself with. Summerhall after all was where the Elder Council and all the various ministries and bureaucrats were and it was where the highest echelons of the nobility and elites in their realm resided, either because they were obliged to by Alternate Attendance or because they chose to do so for all the aforementioned reasons. The court of Summerhall was a fine place to network, to form alliances, build relationships, and try and find a position of reputability and power in the ministries beneath the Elder Council.
Even for a lady like her who often left such politicking and administrating to her parents and older brother, there were plenty of opportunities to indulge in lavish feasts, balls, and games, or to walk through the beautiful botanical gardens or inspect the fascinations in the menagerie (the Little Valyrian lemurs and pouched tigers were but a few of those wondrous curiosities).
The social circles were not to be missed either. There were innumerable salons and tea parties with many notable ladies from across the realm, including the Lyseni and other Essosi immigrants. There they gossiped about many things, ranging from new dresses and perfumes to betrothals, marriages, and rumors.
The ongoing influx of Essosi merchants, magisters, and nobles sending some of their relatives to their kingdom and intermarrying with the locals was among the topics of interest, especially in regard to how it was shaping the culture of their realm and bringing new wealth and connections. There was currently a massive wave of Myrish elites especially coming into the kingdom due to the recent fall of Myr to Volantis and only time would tell if they would assimilate into the kingdom as well as the Lyseni before them had.
Mariannne’s social circle wasn’t even as influential or well-connected as it could be. Her father’s attempts to have her appointed as a lady in waiting for either of the queens or even one of the four princesses had as of yet failed, for competition for such lofty and privileged positions was fierce. Nonetheless he was confident in his chances of eventual success, trusting in his closeness to the Targaryens as a Defender sworn to them directly in the Crown Province of Summerhall.
By hook or by crook, Marianne did not doubt her father would succeed eventually and she would be a lady in waiting for one of the Targaryens, even if it was the little four-year-old Princess Elaena ten years her younger. An adorable and cute little thing she would have little qualms with spending time with even ignoring the fact that as a Princess of the Realm she could open countless doors for her.
Marianne was far less confident about her father’s unspoken idle hopes that she could catch the eye of one of the Targaryen princes as a bride or even as a paramour. All four of them were betrothed to their sisters already after all and while Marianne was confident in her beauty, with her lustrous red hair and striking green eyes, she wasn’t that confident. She knew she would be like the moon against the sun that was the princesses with their silver-gold hair and purple eyes, flawless skin, and ethereal glows.
Nor did it feel right to try and get between the Targaryens. Anyone who saw how the four pairs interacted knew that they were just meant to be. Well, everyone except the hypocritical whiners from the Reach who complained about incest yet hadn’t lifted a finger to save the Riverlands who had labored under thralldom for a century.
Also, the Targaryens all had dragons, even the little ones, and they were growing larger and more fearsome by the year. It wasn’t exactly a smart thing to try and make moves on a dragonrider’s beloved.
No for her own part, Marianne had her eyes on some of the handsome Lyseni or Myrishmen at court, especially those who stood to gain keeps, defenderships, and possibly even wards as the Targaryens’ conquests continued. They were more than easy on the eyes, with some of them rivaling even the Targaryens in looks, and they would soon be of a status worthy of her and perhaps most importantly of all, they were actually attainable.
Marrying outside of her home province would likely complicate the succession of Atranta if the worst were to befall her elder brother though. By law, none but the royal house were allowed to hold fiefs in multiple Wards or Crown Provinces. This was particularly intended to prevent Wardens holding multiple Wards but it would include the Defendership of Atranta as well.
As her elder brother had yet to marry, Marianne was next in line to inherit Atranta after him but if she married someone else who was then given a fief in the Vale or some other region away from Summerhall, she and her husband would not be allowed to pass both of their lands onto the same heir, having to split them between their children, and if they had only one child, the Crown would intervene and pass either of their fiefs to the closest relative and leave the other for their child. Still with any luck, her brother would marry soon and have a litter of young ones to avoid any complications.
Marianne’s thoughts on the matter came to an end as the herald finally announced the arrival of the royal family into the throne room.
And in they walked, escorted by a platoon of Dragonguard, eleven ethereal people with silver-gold hair and purple eyes. The King and Queens were first, tall, powerful, and imposing. They had a highness about them, an aura of charisma and majesty that stunned the court into silence.
The Red Twins were quick on their parents’ tails, dressed all in red as usual though with trims of gold and purple. The rest of their siblings were in line behind and beside them, obediently following their eldest brother and sister’s lead, though the youngest two, Elaena and Aemon looked bored and restless.
King Aegon and his queens stood before their thrones but they did not sit in them, indicating that this would be a short session of court. Instead, the King spoke firmly, declaring his will to them all.
“As some of you may already be aware, part of our kingdom’s armies have mobilized and mustered to the Mountains of the Moon on the road leading to the Bloody Gate. Several of the esteemed members of the Elder Council and the nobility have already been absent from the capital from some weeks now as they led the army thence. The Kingdom of the Vale’s insolence and defiance of our great realm shall not be allowed to stand any longer. Once this session of court adjourns, Queen Visenya, Queen Rhaenys, and myself will be departing to take command of the campaign.
“In our absence, the day-to-day governance of the realm will be left to the remainder of the Elder Council under the leadership of the interim Chancellor, Lord Daemon Velaryon, our loyal uncle.” The man in question nodded in acknowledgement at the words.
“Royal authority will be invested into my eldest son and heir, Prince Aerion, who will sit the regent’s seat at the base of this dais and hold sessions of court in my name and answer petitions with the advice of the Elder Council. His betrothed, Princess Valaena, will have similar authority second only to his and in the absence of myself and my queens, it shall be understood that both of them speak with my voice.”
Marianne and all the other courtiers bowed their heads in acknowledgement at the King’s decree and she could not help but stare in awe when she rose her head. She had long admired just how easy the Targaryens seemed to make it all, how effortlessly they stood above and apart from all the politicking of court. They were truly exceptional.
And the two young heirs of House Targaryen continued the tradition. The Red Twins, Prince Aerion the Heir and the Ruby Princess Valaena. Both were well known at court, not just for their colors but for their personalities. Many often said that they paired together perfectly to make the perfect ruler, an iron fist and a velvet glove.
Much like his mother, Queen Visenya, Prince Aerion was more straightforward and no-nonsense, having little patience for the subtleties and intrigues of court, often tending to demand niceties were skipped in favor of greater efficiency. He was exceedingly martially inclined, winning friends easily among soldiers, knights, and the martial sons of lords and his father’s loyalists. Though he was only three and ten, he and his younger brother Aegor were already noted to be surpassing some fully grown knights in the training yard.
Marianne had heard her brother, who was acquainted with the prince, describe it once. Unlike his father Aegon who had a certain charm and smile that could turn enemies into friends, Prince Aerion did not barter for your obedience. He demanded it like a born and bred prince and there was a power in his gaze that compelled one to obey. A gaze that made Marianne’s heart skip a beat on the rare occasions their eyes met but alas he was not and never would be hers to have.
Yet for all of his steel and demanding nature, Prince Aerion could be quite soft when he wanted to be. Especially to his family. All at court could still recall how he had presented his beloved sister with the ruby that had given her a new sterling epithet at their nameday earlier this year with a blush and bashful smile.
Princess Valaena softened her brother and in this sense she very much took after her mother, Queen Rhaenys. She was quick-witted, sweet and cheerful with a smile that could melt the heart of any and was a fond patron of the arts and music. Her circle of ladies and companions was one that Marianne bitterly regretted not being able to join.
Sometimes it was hard to believe that the Red Twins were two years her younger, for both of them seemed so much more than she could ever hope to be. More charismatic and wise, with a presence that outshone all in the room whenever they entered and a complementary bond that set them apart and completed them. Their parents had done very well indeed raising the two of them and Marianne was certain that the kingdom could be in no finer hands with the King and Queens away.
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The Grand Captain
“The Targaryens have invaded the Vale?” the High Septon inquired.
“Yes, Your Holiness,” Ser Edric Cuy replied. There had been many ravens from the Vale for the past few months, all of them desperately begging for aid as the Targaryens had massed their troops on the border, their intentions clear to everyone. It grieved Edric’s heart that they could not yet move to save them but for the souls of all in Westeros, they had to wait a little longer.
“King Mern and King Argilac have called their banners but they agree with your plan, Holiness. The Targaryens are too alert, and too many of their troops are still on their southern border. We shall wait until they have fully committed to the Vale and then we shall strike,” Septon Luceon of the Second Canon and Most Devout reported.
Both clergymen turned to him then. “Ser Edric, do the Warrior’s Sons stand ready?”
“Aye Your Holiness. As do the Poor Fellows. The Faith Militant is prepared to bring an end to these dragonspawn. The Swords and Stars shall be the proud vanguard of our most holy campaign,” Edric answered earnestly.
“Good, good. And are our plans for the Westerlands complete?” the High Septon asked.
“Yes Holiness. The Poor Fellows have done well infiltrating the kingdom and the Lannister cadets are armed and ready to lead a revolt when our armies arrive to liberate the West.”
“My only concern now is the Vale. Do the people have the strength and the faith to resist long enough? Do our Faith Militant there have the grit to endure?” Septon Luceon asked, no small amount of concern and fear in his expression.
Edric trained many of the men they had sent to the Vale himself. He knew their worth and he said as much. “They will Your Excellency. They will give their lives if they must, to buy us the time we need. The Vale will be the anvil upon which the Targaryens break themselves before we fall upon them from the rear as the hammer.”
“Then may the Seven be with us gentlemen. We have done all that we can to prepare. All that is left to do now is pray and wait until the hour has come. The fate of Westeros hangs in the balance,” the High Septon said ominously before turning to leave the altar.
Septon Luceon looked around at the statues of the Seven in the Starry Sept, as if making sure to sear them into his memory before he too left.
With the holy men gone, Edric finally let down his guard. In front of his liege, he did his best to act strong and stalwart. The Grand Captain of the Warrior’s Sons, the greatest paragon of chivalry in the land, the Faith’s greatest champion and defender. But here, alone with only the gods to see, he could finally be honest with himself.
He was terrified. He knew the fates of those who had defied the Targaryens before. But he knew the ends of those that surrendered was even worse. Surrender meant the perversion of their faith and souls into accursed servants of the dragonlords that had driven their ancestors from Andalos and that was a fate worse than death.
Kneeling before the statute of the Warrior, Edric prayed with all his heart that he and his men would remain strong enough to see their mission through to the end, be it utter victory or glorious entry to the seven heavens.
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Author’s Note: Thanks for the patience! Hope you all enjoyed this look from the eyes of citizens and foes of the Targaryens alike! Stay tuned for the invasion of the Vale starting next chapter!
Please let me know your thoughts, suggestions, and any questions in the comments below or over on Discord! https://discord.com/invite/NSEwuzpcWm
Comments
Tertius711
I'm glad you liked it! Do lmk your thoughts on the rest of the chapters!
Luca
Nice chapter, I liked the insight into the thought of the citizen.
Tertius711
Would be better to just outright destroy the armies rather than let them all disperse and go rogue bandit or guerilla no? Let them come in their big massed formations and then burn them all on the field of battle.
Kyle Pemberton
They should burn the supply train of the Reach and Stormlander armies using dragon fire and keep doing that until the armies slowly disintegrate on their own due to lack of supply.
Tertius711
Glad that you love this fic so much though I hate to torture ya. I'm happy you're pleased with Aegon's handling of the city and the lords since those were some of my main issues with him in canon. Stay tuned for the destruction of the Faith!
Tertius711
They're still dealing with medieval/antiquity technology ultimately even with all of their expertise and some advancements and there's not only a lot of projects but the focus of the Targaryens is not wholly on the construction of the city since they still have their conquests to see to. Imperial City will rise but it will take time. Rome wasn't built in a day after all.
Tertius711
Definitely enemies to beware of and take steps to destroy. Though I am personally of the belief the maester conspiracy OTL was limited to the extinction of the dragons after the Dance.
Odysseus
it’s torture waiting for this story like it was with high tide. Loving it as always, seeing how realistic and smart this Aegon is with his city construction and planning as well as his changing of feudal lords is what i wish every fic of this time period would do. Also can’t wait for the faith to get destroyed! iechyd da
Wilder
The city construction is going so slow, would love to see it move a lot faster. So with cement, levers and cranes, water powered processed tools (Do they have waterwheels?), and all the known worlds greatest builders, it should be possible to make the city a lot faster
Zenokya
Poor fellows will always be, in my opinion, the worst enemy of the targs (and maesters). Hide in plain side and can play the long game before attacking. Maester conspiracy is real in OTL.
Tertius711
Larger than 130k :) Hmm. Define 'setbacks' in war. Because I can promise I will never nerf dragons unlike Martin but just clean sweeping can be boring too (and counterproductive to Targaryen goals even since they need to uproot the local nobility). Certainly the involvement of the Faith Militant opens up some pathways.
TyrantGod
So the anti Targ army is 130 k strong? Will you make it a curbstomp or will there be setbacks in the war?
Tertius711
Interesting question. It's a bit hard to say given the era of history compared to canon but roughly I'd say smth along these lines: Targaryen Kingdom: 60-70k Reach: 60-70k North/Vale/Stormlands: 25-30k Dorne: 15-20k
TyrantGod
What are the total number of soldier per kingdom right now?
Tertius711
Remember Ch13? The mountain clans have all been exterminated by the Vale.
Tertius711
There are such plans indeed for the Vale. Definitely stay tuned for them!
Zayari
Honestly I hope the Targaryens of this timeline were smart enough to make inroads with the mountain clans, they would of great use for secret passages and ambush points. Not to mention using them to hold part of the vale and using the Essosi for the other part would help destabilize the grip the Seven hold in those lands
TwoJacksAndAnAce
I wonder how the Vale will fall, probably not like canon with Visenya just flying up to the Eyrie and ending things immediately, but who knows it worked there and it can definitely work here. It would be funny if after all the preparation and planning Sharra is forced to give up at the start of the war, although this time I doubt her men and vassals would give up.
