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High Tide, Chapter 32: Morghon
🕑 Added 2023-07-08 08:54:03 +0000 UTCViserra
Second Moon, 92 AC
Corlys had dreaded this for months, and now that it had come at last, Viserra finally understood just a little why he had been so worried. Tyrosh was in flames. The loyal Ser Jaremy had described how the arrest of a Tower had turned sour, and now a massive mob was rioting and tearing through the city. Their call to arms was a roaring chant of death. “Morghon,” they cried, calling for death; death to the infidels and heretics, death to the tyrants and usurpers, and death for themselves, the faithful who will gladly give their lives for their noble cause.
The rebels had already seized control of several key parts of the city, and were burning down septs and slaughtering Stars and Velaryon soldiers as they encountered them. Parts of the city were already in flames from torches thrown or dropped during the riots. A council of war had been called urgently, to discuss how to coordinate the disparate response to the revolt. It was not going well.
“The rioters are trying to push to the Bleeding Tower, calling for the liberation of Ario Orlyr’s seat of power! We cannot allow the Tower to fall, or they can cut us off from our fleet!” One captain shouted.
“Who cares about the Bleeding Tower when the rioters are marching closer to this very Fortress?” Another rebuked him. “The Black Fortress has its own docks separate from the main harbor for our fleet to resupply and reinforce us if need be. I say we pull our forces back to the inner walls of the city, with all our supporters, and wait for Princess Viserra to recover from childbirth. Dreamfyre will lay waste to the rebels soon enough.”
“With the city in ash what would be the point of our occupation of it?”
“Better we rule over ashes than be dead!”
“We cannot wait for our lady to give birth! It will be weeks at least until she recovers from the birth enough to ride the Blue Queen. Your Excellency,” one commander said, addressing her husband. “I beseech you, allow me to call our men from the ships. We have thousands of good, loyal Velaryon men on those ships. If they were to disembark, we could double, or even triple our forces!”
“And throw away the lives of the sailors of our fleet? Are they to be spear fodder and thrown ahead of the soldiers to the mob?” Another commander demanded.
“Obviously not! Our sailors are trained enough to fight pirates! They can garrison the Black Fortress or serve in support roles!” Yet another captain rebuked. The bickering seemed ceaseless. Chaos had set in, and there was no clear leadership.
Viserra narrowed her eyes at Corlys beside her. He seemed to be paying rapt attention to every suggestion by his commanders, and yet quite unlike him, had offered none of his own, nor any criticism. He had been uncharacteristically silent, and she noticed that Aurane to Corlys’s right was looking worried as well, though he was distracted trying to make some sense of the many furiously shouted plans.
Every commander seemed to have their own ideas on dealing with the crisis at hand. Different suggestions and strategies were all raised, ranging from doing nothing, to securing certain areas only, to disembarking their entire fleet and throwing 50,000 Velaryon men at the rioters, and so on.
One voice eventually broke through the cacophony however. “Why don’t we go home to Driftmark?”
All eyes turned to the officer. He was around her husband’s age if Viserra had to guess, with brown hair and eyes, not ugly, but not quite comely either. He looked tired and defeated, with no fighting spirit left in his body.
“My lords, Princess, my fellow officers. Is it not time to admit we are defeated? Ser Rhaekar is dead, and Driftmark is dying. We thought that destroying the Towers would redeem our losses, but it has only exacerbated the chaos. How many more men of Driftmark must die before we admit we are beaten? How many more will not go home to their loved ones because of our stubbornness? I beseech you, all of you, to do the right thing and admit our defeat.”
“Coward!” One of the other officers shouted.
“Craven! You would have us return to Driftmark with tail tucked between our legs? Shall our lord go cowering before the King begging mercy?”
“It is an absurd proposal. You should be ashamed of yourself!”
The hail of condemnation grew louder until it suddenly came crashing down. “Silence!”
You could hear a pin drop. Their lord had spoken at last, and all saw Corlys Velaryon’s anger. “You are officers and captains in the proud Velaryon Navy, or knights and men-at-arms sworn to House Velaryon. This bickering is beneath you, as is your crude insults to one of your brethren. Such things divide our house, and division will be fatal for us now. Cease with your attacks on the person of Commander Addam at once.”
“Commander Addam has a point,” Corlys began to say. “Pride goes before the fall. Perhaps we… no, I have been proud for too long. Perhaps it’s time to withdraw at last. Wisdom is knowing when you are beaten.”
The officers were shocked, many looked horrified. Aurane was downcast. All of them saw Corlys’s defeat, the loss of his will. The legendary Sea Snake’s once indomitable spirit was broken. Morale plummeted as the mood in the room soured. With their own lord losing hope, many began to fear that all was lost after all.
Viserra could not abide by that. She refused to accept it. Pushing her chair back, she took no care of the normal manners to ensure the legs did not grate on the floor. No she wanted to draw attention, she wanted to be heard. She could feel all their eyes on her, her defeated husband looking at her in confusion.
“My lords, my captains, my officers, I know that my skills in commanding war are lacking, if not nonexistent, but I feel that we cannot give up here. There is a path still to take that will see us emerge victorious. My belly may be heavy with my child, but a grounded dragon is a dragon no less. Dreamfyre will obey my orders even now, and there are thousands of loyal, brave me, who will surely beseech us to ensure the sacrifices of they and their brothers was not in vain. Defeat is by no means certain, not so long as our spirits and will remains strong!
“In my opinion, fleeing would not be the correct choice, even if it would bear us hither to safety. The sea is nearby if you wish to flee and the ships are ready and waiting. They will certainly bear you safely home to Driftmark. Yet, ask yourselves gentlemen, if you would rather that safety than the glory of a meaningful death when you return home empty-handed to Driftmark and our people ask you if our sacrifices meant anything at all?
“Valar Morghulis; all men must die it is said, and for one who has ruled, it is intolerable to be made an exile and forced to flight. I for one refuse to suffer such ignominy. The day will never come where I am deprived of Tyroshi purple, and not hailed as Zaldilaros, Princess of Tyrosh. It is here in Tyrosh, that House Velaryon must make its stand, and if it should be its end, then it shall be a proud end. The noblest shrouds will be of Tyroshi purple and Velaryon sea-green.”
As Viserra spoke, she could see the straightening in the backs of the commanders as they were moved to excitement and eagerness at her words. Even those who had been most defeated looked pensive, a feeling of reluctant hope in their eyes.
Attention turned once more to her lord husband, hope there was also in his indigo eyes, but it was chained and locked away by his own doubts. Viserra knew then, that this was not an ailment she could cure with the council around them.
“Leave us, all of you. Wait outside until your lord bids you to return.”
Some looked to protest but quailed at her glare and followed their brethren out at once. Viserra sat back down and looked to her husband.
“Did you really mean what you said?” He asked, haunted.
“I did, every word.”
“Even if it means to die? Viserra you can’t be serious! Rhaekar is already dead, you cannot mean to join him! You cannot!”
“I do not seek my own death Corlys, but I will choose death over the other choice. The King’s mercy is a poisoned chalice. Do you truly think that if we scurry away from Tyrosh like a dog with a tail between its legs, that he will show us true clemency? That he will pardon us? He will take our children from us, his hostages for our compliance, his wards to mold into his image, and when they return to us, they will not know us. I would rather die than let that happen.”
Corlys gritted his teeth, imagining the nightmare, the abyss that they could not let come for their own sanity. “You do not know that for sure.”
“He’s my father Corlys. I know it in my bones, because it’s exactly what I would do if I were in his place. I have denied it even to myself for so many years, but we are so very much alike, my father and I. But my father did not bow and submit to Maegor, I will not to him either.”
“The rebels are too many, our men will bleed dearly to end it. Without Dreamfyre, so much blood will be spilt, is it even worth it?”
“Such is the way of the world. To turn back now, will be to disrespect the sacrifices of those who have already given their lives, and dishonor the hopes and dreams of the ones awaiting our glorious return in Driftmark. Dreamfyre will not abandon you either, I may be with child, but I can still command Dreamfyre. She will be able to aid you in at least some part of the suppression of the revolt. Perhaps we might lure the rebels with a feigned retreat, entice them to take their reward and find it to be a mouthful of dragonflame.”
“And what of the destruction that will be unleashed, the carnage raging even now? The wealth of House Velaryon is at a nadir. We may not ever recover from this. Could you accept a life without luxury or amenity?”
“Gladly. I would empty every last reserve, spend every last coin in the vaults of High Tide and be a proud pauper if it meant our victory in Tyrosh. If it meant that our children remain by our side, and we do not dishonor Rhaekar and so many others’ sacrifices to beg mercy from the Iron Throne. Tyrosh is where we make our stand Corlys, together.”
“We could still lose.”
“We’ll do that together too."
At that, Corlys despaired. “Why? Why do you still have so much faith in me? Did you yourself not say that I had failed you? Failed Rhaekar and failed our house with my stupidity, my foolishness?”
Viserra felt guilt as the unforgotten scars of words that should never have been said revealed themselves once more. “Those words were said in anger. I did not mean them, not truly.”
“Some part of you did, deep down. A part you wished didn’t exist but does nonetheless. Viserra, that part is right. All those months ago, you asked me why I wasn’t better? I’ll tell you why. It’s because I was a fool! I was a stupid, arrogant man, who thought that the world bent to my whims, that the gods themselves wanted me to succeed and I was wrong. In my hubris, I led our house blindly into the calamity Rhaekar had warned me of for so many years, and now he is dead because of my failure. I led my little brother to his death. An unforgivable sin that will forever stain my legacy.”
“And does that undo everything else? Look at what you have done, at all that you have accomplished! The story of your life is not failure, it is success and victory against all odds! This is not a defeat Corlys, it is only a setback, an obstacle that I am sure you will overcome. You cannot jump between two extremes; from reckless hubris to indecisive caution and cowardice. Walk the middle path my love, choose your battles, know which ones to fight, and which ones to leave. That is the wisdom that you crave.”
“I… I made the mistake of thinking you were perfect. When you came into my life, I was in a dark place. You were a light shining brilliantly. You seemed so wise to me, so knowledgeable, so daring and brave. I admired you, I wanted to be like you. I thought that you would never lead me astray, that you would never fail me. And when you made mistakes, little by little a part of me grew to resent you and I am ashamed of it, because I was wrong.
“You’re not some perfect all-knowing lord Corlys. You aren’t an almighty chosen avatar of the gods who will never fail. You are only human, and all humans make mistakes. Is it better to never fail, or to overcome your failures to succeed tomorrow? Is it better to never fall, than to plunge into the abyss and still have the strength to climb back to the top?
“Even now, your men will follow you to whatever end! They crave your approval! They have the utmost loyalty in your vision! They will die for you, because they believe in you. As do I! Your failures do not condemn you Corlys, not so long as you find the strength to overcome them and rise above them. Even now, I swear to you, I still believe in you! I still have faith in you, because I love you Corlys, because I know that you are better, that you can still be so much more.
She leaned in, almost to kiss him, but instead caressed his cheeks tenderly. “But do you? You are the one who must find the strength within yourself to fight again, the strength to forgive yourself for your failings, for not being perfect. Put aside the perfect peerless paragon, he never existed. Embrace who you truly are.”
“And that is?” Corlys asked her, awe on his face.
“My husband. The father of my children. Aurane and Rhaekar’s brother. The Sea Snake, the Lord of the Tides, the Archon of Tyrosh. A man who braved all the storms and seas in the world, all the dangers of court, all the recklessness of ambition, just so that he could make his house the greatest that it can be, give his people the finest lives they could dream of. A man who has made enough mistakes to drown in his failure, and yet I know that he will rise beyond them all and lead us to a victory like we have never seen before today!”
Corlys straightened then, rising to his full stature, and there was no uncertainty in his bearing. Viserra felt her heart skip a beat seeing that fire in his eyes once again. It had been lost for so long, but now that it had returned, she felt her spirits soar, and her confidence grow.
Her husband reassumed his former self like it had never been gone, but it was no longer a mask. Like a crucible tempering steel, their suffering and struggles had not been without purpose. Both of them had been tempered, been made wiser and more measured. Her husband had found his wisdom and restraint, but he had paid for it by surrendering everything that had made him who he was, his daring, his courage, and his fire. But one could not exist without the other, and now that he had found them both, restrained his recklessness with caution, and kindled his wisdom with fiery daring, there would be no stopping him.
“Thank you Viserra, for helping me find myself again.” he looked down at her, so proud and loving.
“I just said what you needed to hear,” She tried to dismiss it.
“And no one else would have. Not since Rhaekar died, not in this way. Either they would condemn me for my failures, or they would continue to blindly follow me no matter what. You Viserra, are what I need, as I needed Rhaekar. To remind me that I am simply mortal, that it’s acceptable to fail. Thank you.”
He embraced her tightly then and Viserra melted into her husband’s arms. Reluctantly she tore herself away. “There will be time for that later. We have a battle to plan and a rebellion to quell.”
Corlys nodded and made for the door to call their officers back in to resume their war council, but Viserra’s smile faded away as she felt an all too familiar pain. A dull ache in her lower back and abdomen, a cramp that reminded her of her worst moonbloods. It was slight at first, and she had hoped dearly that it might be a trick, but this was no farce. She knew for sure as she felt another strong contraction.
Not now little one, please!
But her pleas were for naught. She was forced to lean on the table to rest as she felt the aches radiate through her body like waves on the sea. Corlys noticed, of course he did. He rushed to her side.
“Viserra? What’s wrong?” He asked panicked.
“N-Nothing!” Viserra choked out before she moaned in pain. What an impatient rascal she carried.
“Your labours have begun haven’t they,” Corlys said, suddenly realizing.
“No, no. It’s nothing. The babe just kicked a little too hard,” she denied.
“I’m sure they did,” her husband replied, unimpressed, before he picked her up in his arms.
At his shouted command, the doors were pulled open by the Tide Guard and Corlys walked briskly past his brother and all the officers, uncaring of how undignified he looked carrying his pregnant wife in his arms like a newlywed bride. Corlys shouted commands at Aurane and the officers to gather in the council room and await his return before he rushed her to her chambers and summoned the Maester.
Within a few minutes, Maester Desmond had arrived, with all his tools and remedies. The midwives had come as well, and her goodsister Alys was there also. Maester Desmond inspected her and told them that all was going well for now, but Viserra soon overheard his whisper to Corlys that it was dangerous for her to be moved. Immediately he rose from his place kneeling by her bed and made to leave. Desperate, Viserra reached out to grab her husband’s hand.
She hated how pathetic she sounded. “Please, please don’t go.”
“I must. The men will need me to lead them if we are to win the day.”
“No you don’t – aaah!” Her words were interrupted by an unexpectedly strong contraction sending pain and discomfort through her entire lower body. “I cannot command Dream like this! She will not obey me. She won’t leave my side! You will be alone; Dreamfyre won’t protect you!”
“As it should be. The moment your labours began Viserra, I knew we would have no aid from Dreamfyre. Her duty is to you, first and foremost. We will do well even without her, worry not. I’m sorry, so sorry. I wish nothing more than to be by your side, as I was with the twins, but I must quell the rebellion, for your safety if nothing else. You have your battle Viserra, and I have mine. I will return to you Viserra, when we have both attained victory. I swear.”
“No Corlys!” Viserra screamed, in pain and desperation as her husband regretfully left her to her labors.
I can’t protect you if you leave me. Please, don’t go. Don’t go to where I can’t follow, to where I can’t keep you safe.
______________________________________________________
Aurane
The entire room rose to attention when Corlys marched in. “At ease,” he ordered firmly. He had caught barely a glimpse of it earlier, but Corlys’s very demeanor had changed and he was glad for it. Gone was the indecision, the weakness, they had been purged by a fire that had reignited in his soul.
“Your Excellency, is the Princess well?” one of the officers asked worriedly.
“She is. Her labors have begun and she has been restricted to her bed on the Maester’s instructions,” Corlys replied.
Some of the officers looked around hesitantly. “Then her words of Dreamfyre’s support…”
“A promise that she cannot keep through no fault of her own, and it will not be held against her,” his brother said, with warning in his voice.
“Of course!” the officers chorused.
“My captains, my lords. Why do you fear? We are House Velaryon! Do we need a dragon to do all the dirty work for us? No! We are the Old, the True, the Brave! We didn’t need a dragon to rise as high as we did, and we don’t need a dragon now. I promise you my friends, follow me, and we will win. That is my oath to you as your lord, as your Archon.”
Corlys’ had never stood taller or prouder, Aurane felt himself straighten in pride and faith. His charisma had never failed to inspire men, save only when it had failed its own master in his indecision and hesitance. Those thoughts of defeat had been vanquished now however. Only victory was on Corlys’s mind now, there was no other option with what was at stake.
“You have returned,” one of the officers said suddenly and Aurane realized it was the very same who had suggested abandoning Tyrosh earlier.
“Forgive me for my doubts earlier my lord. I see now, you have found yourself again. Your fire, your confidence, your belief. I worried because you yourself seemed unsure, but now I know I have nothing to fear.”
Corlys nodded. “Thank you Commander, but you owe thanks for that not to me but to your princess, my wife. It is in her honor, her defense that we will fight. Our princess, our lady has given her sweat and her tears and her efforts to protect and defend us! She shielded us at Bloodstone, championed us against the Triarchy. Will we abandon her in her hour of need?”
“No!” A resounding chorus emerged, with every officer in agreement for once.
“On this day, I fight to defend Princess Viserra, our beloved Sea Dragon! I will gladly bleed and suffer if it means that she is kept safe by my hand. I mean to eviscerate this Morghon Riot, destroy the Towers and any who would oppose us once and for all! Who’s with me?”
“I am!” Aurane shouted with the entire room.
“Good,” Corlys said as he leaned forward and placed his hands on the table, as if to conspire. “Because here’s what we’re going to do.”
As Corlys explained the plan, Aurane felt his heart pound with excitement. It was like having the old Corlys back. The plan was so audacious, so daring, and yet it was not reckless, it was tempered with wisdom and careful foresight. Truly the best of both worlds.
A while later, Aurane armored himself in the armory near the courtyard with his brother, the Tide Guard helping them to strap the pieces on. They rarely used full plate, as that was a burden on the seas, but here in the carnage awaiting them? Full plate would save their lives.
Their armor was much similar to that of the Tide Guard, ocean-blued and silver trimmed, with sea-green mail and doublets, though theirs were even more ornate and decorated with sapphires, aquamarine, and diamonds, as befitting their status. As Corlys strapped the last piece of the armor on his arm, Aurane held his arm to stop him briefly. He looked at him expectantly.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Aurane asked.
“What?” His brother demanded, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“You can still take off the armor and go back to your wife. No one will fault you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong little brother. I’m asking these men to risk their lives for the sake of my house and my wife, I cannot do that if I do not stand with them. If the king does not lead, how can he expect his subordinates to follow?”
“You’re not a king,” Aurane countered.
“That’s right. The principle remains the same however. I will not give orders from the rear, not today Aurane. Today, I must lead.”
With that said, Corlys strapped the last piece of armor to his chest and once the Tide Guard had tightened the straps, he marched out of the armory. With nothing else to do, Aurane followed suit behind his brother, as he always had.
His mind raced. Corlys was fighting to defend their house, but above all it was Viserra he fought for. Viserra who labored even now ceaselessly, working to bring his niece or nephew into the world. His thoughts drifted to Alys beside Viserra in that room, to his nephews Jace and Luke, and his son Malentine, under heavy guard and attendance by their servants, ready to be ushered onto a ship bound for Driftmark at any moment. Aurane steeled himself, he knew what he was fighting for as well.
They walked out into the courtyard, mounting their horses and riding them to the front of the gathered column. Aurane looked over at their army. The preparations had been made. The most battle experienced sailors had all disembarked from the fleet and would support their forces as auxiliaries, the rest would either man the ships and resupply their forces throughout the city or garrison the Black Fortress.
The gathered force was a motley crew made up of Tide Guard, Driftmark Marines, Velaryon knights and sergeants and men-at-arms, sailors, and even Stars. Corlys had suggested a radical idea at the council no one had even considered; reach out to the Stars already fighting the rioters, and arm and armor them.
In private, he had confided his worries about arming them to his brother, but he had only said that desperate times called for desperate measures. Corlys had reassured him, that the Stars were so radical and fanatic, they would gladly bear the honor of the vanguard against the riot and take the most losses. They would kill two birds with one stone, and the surviving Stars could be rewarded with official positions within the Velaryon forces and be distributed evenly and assimilated into its ranks, preventing the rise of a new Faith Militant.
As the army saw them at the head, they straightened instinctively. Many, the Stars in particular, looked eager, but others, many of their fine warriors from Driftmark were troubled and concerned. Aurane looked over to his brother, and saw resolve fill his face.
With a bellowing shout, he called his army up. “Attention! Arise, arise Men of Driftmark! Stars of Tyrosh! We gather here for a purpose! To end this revolt, and bring peace to Tyrosh for the glory of Driftmark, the Seven, and our house!”
“I know that some of you may have concerns, that you worry your death will be in vain. Worry no more, for if it is to be our death, than it will be a glorious and meaningful death. Behind you is your lady, even now she labors to bring the next Velaryon into the world! With her are your brethren, all your friends and fellows who do not bear arms. It is for their sake that you will die. Beyond the sea is Driftmark, your homes and families; even now they still await to hear of your glorious victory! Will you disappoint them?”
“NAY!” The army responded with a resounding chant.
“Some may say that the day will come that we forget our traditions and legacy; that we dishonor our oaths and flee like cowards. I say that day will never come. We are House Velaryon! There are no traditions that we will dishonor, no oaths that we will forsake, no battles that we will cower from!
”We are the Old, the True, and the Brave! Beside you are your brothers, before you is your lord, behind you are your mothers and your sisters and your wives! We are all of us united for one glorious purpose! We are House Velaryon and we will be victorious!”
“VELARYON?” Corlys bellowed, louder than ever.
“AND VICTORY!” The army chanted furiously as the gates began to open, and Aurane felt his heart skip a beat. Never before had the battle cry of Driftmark been so poignant and strong, and he thought his ears might deafen from the fury of their shout.
“THE OLD!” Corlys called out.
“THE TRUE! THE BRAVE!” The army chorused, and their voices rumbled like thunder in a storm.
“VELARYON!”
“AND VICTORY! VELARYON AND VICTORY! VELARYON AND VICTORY!”
Aurane could not help but join in the cry as Corlys and he, followed by the Tide Guard and the knights trotted on their horses toward the opening gates. The feeling was infectious, the confidence swelling in their hearts, the purpose strengthening their bones. They could not lose; they would not lose.
As the gates opened, Aurane saw a city in flames, carnage and violence in its streets as innocents were butchered, and the rebels clashed with Stars and soldiers. For a moment he hesitated, but there was no hesitation in his brother’s voice.
“Move into the city! Destroy all who would defy you! For the time of mercy and restraint has passed. The hour has come for wrath, for ruin, and a red dawn!”
The horns blew furiously. “Velaryon and Victory! Advance!” Corlys shouted before he spurred his horse onward. With a final battle cry, they charged with their lord, out into the city.
_____________________________________________
Aurane had eventually split up from Corlys during the fighting. As Corlys’s brother, his authority on the battlefield was second only to his and he was charged with securing the docks. With his task completed, Aurane had received orders to reinforce his brother’s position.
“Aurane!” Corlys called out to him as he approached. “It’s good to see you brother. How goes the work?”
“Well,” he answered. “The rioters have been cleared out of every building between the Black Fortress and the docks, and the assault on the Bleeding Tower was turned back.”
“Good news indeed! We’ve been having some difficulties over here. The damn rebels have barricaded themselves inside the Red Temple. Whenever we get too close to the walls, they’ll pepper us full of projectiles. They even sallied forth once, crazy fanatics. I need you and your men to secure a perimeter in front of the gate, and allow our archers to move in closer.”
“Understood. How long until we storm it?” Aurane asked.
Corlys’s face was grim, though Aurane saw the hints of a vindictive smile on it. “We’re not storming anything. These fanatics love their Red God so much? They can join him in the holiest of ways. Fire is the purest death after all.”
Aurane raised an eyebrow. “Half the city is on fire already; you want to add more to it?”
“One building more would make no difference. I’ve already sent for the water and had my troops create a perimeter. The fire will not spread, but my archers need time to ready their arrows. Enough time for a sortie if the rebels figure out what we’re up to.”
“What do you want me to do then?” Aurane asked.
“Attack the gate first. Barricade them inside and do not let them sally forth or escape.”
A horn sounded then and they heard the cry from the sentry. “Enemy sallying forth!”
Corlys looked to him. “Well, there goes that plan. Get your troops in order. We will have to drive the sally back to the Temple the hard way.”
Unlike the previous sallies, in which their defense had held with the support of their archers, this time their arrow stocks were low and many of the archers were busy preparing for an incendiary volley on the temple. Rather than slow down the preparations for the fire arrows, Corlys had opted not to have any supporting volleys for their soldiers. Instead they were to advance in a solid formation, as solid as Marines were used to at least, to confront the sally of the rioters.
As they approached calmly and methodically, the rioters were wild and uncoordinated. Though there had been Buzantys in their ranks, many of those had been taken by surprise when the Velaryons had moved against the Towers and those few that had remained could not whip a rabble of peasants into any kind of discipline in a mere day.
Still that didn’t diminish the fanatic energy of the rioters. “Morghon! Morghon! Morghon!” They chanted as they ran at them, armored rudimentarily in leather brigandines and the odd chainmail here and there and armed with spears, knives, and axes, and other primitive tools. The few Buzantys were the most dangerous by far, being well armed and armored and trained. The rest of the rioters were easy to cut apart for a trained soldier but they remained dangerous still in numbers.
“Hear that boys?” Corlys called out as the rioters approached. “They’re calling for death! Let’s give it to them! Velaryon and Victory!”
“Velaryon and Victory!” Aurane and his men chorused before they moved forward, keeping their formation to meet the rioters head on. The rebels had some modicum of sense, sending their most heavily armored Buzantys in front to try and break their formation.
Aurane drew up his battle axe and parried the thrust of the armored Buzantys, before he brought the axe head down on his neck and collar bone, smashing through the chainmail and leaving a deep gash in the now dying man’s neck and upper body. Aurane pulled his embedded axe out and finished the Buzantys off with a clean swing decapitating his head from his body before moving on.
Beside him, the men of their formation parried the rioters with their own spears, swords, and battle axes, but the most awe-inspiring weapon of all was Riptide. In the hands of a warrior of at least decent skill, like Corlys, Riptide performed more than admirably, slicing through peasant jerkins and rebel brigandines like a knife through butter. It did not even have any difficulty with chainmail, as the sharp and indestructible blade forced its way through the links on any Buzantys foolish enough to challenge Corlys.
For all their fanaticism, even the rioters knew when they were defeated and began to flee back to their Temple one by one. On Corlys’s orders, Aurane pursued them back to the Temple gates. Much like their own forces, the rioters were low on arrow and other projectile stocks, and so they had little opposition as they cut down any fool who sallied forth and began barricading the gates shut from the outside.
As his men continued barricading the gates, Aurane watched as the hail of fire-tipped arrows descended upon the temple like a rain of light. Soon a fire spread despite the desperate attempts of the rioters to put the flames out. Aurane and his men held the gates as the screaming started and the desperate defenders tried to escape. By the time the sun began to set, the temple had burned down, and all its defenders with it.
Exhausted, Aurane followed his brother back to the Black Fortress, feeling incredibly tired after a long day of fighting. The rebellion had been far from fully quelled, and they would have much more work to do over the coming days to root out the remaining holdouts, but they had broken the rioters’ initiative. They could no longer threaten the Velaryon position in the city.
It was twilight by the time they returned back to the Black Fortress, passing patrolling soldiers, weeping women, and burnt out buildings. Many of their soldiers would be sent to rest, while their fresh brethren would patrol and ensure that the remaining rebels did not get any ideas. Come morning, the carnage would begin again in full but there would be a break in the battle for the night at least.
They were given a hero’s welcome when they returned to the Black Fortress, those that had been left behind greeted them with thunderous cheers and exuberance. It would do much to raise the spirits and morale of men that would have to go back to battle tomorrow, Aurane knew.
Their family was waiting for them in the throne room of the Archon’s Palace, guarded by a Tide Guard platoon. Alys nestled Malentine in her arms, while Jace and Luke excitedly ran and greeted Aurane and his brother. “Kepa! Uncle Aurane!” Jace said eagerly. “Did you beat all the bad guys?”
Corlys smiled and ruffled his sons’ hair. “Yes. There are more to beat tomorrow, but don’t worry, we got most of them.”
“So cool!” Luke exclaimed.
Alys stepped forward to greet them, carrying Malentine in his arms. Aurane felt his heart swell. He wasn’t sure he loved Alys, but he was fond of her. Their relationship might have started off a little weakly due to their age difference and his lack of time to spend with her, but they had eventually overcome it. Their son linked them together, and Aurane could not fully describe the feeling of joy he felt seeing Malentine’s eyes light up in recognition of him, babbling happily with all the coherence of a babe ten months old.
Viserra walked forward then, and nestled in a bundle of silk and cotton, was a truly wondrous sight. “Corlys, Aurane. Let me introduce you to the newest member of House Velaryon. Laena Velaryon.”
She made to hand Corlys his daughter to hold but he turned her down. “I would love to, but later. I will need to have a bath first. I’m still filthy from the battle.”
Viserra smirked. “I could tell. I could smell it when you entered the room,” she teased, making them all chuckle.
Aurane smiled, full of cheer. It had been a long day, full of carnage and chaos, and the loss of men he had known, but if this was the reward that awaited them, it had surely been worth it. This was what they fought for.
“Speaking of battle, I have heard some of the servants already whispering to themselves of an epithet for little Laena here,” Alys said. “She was born amidst the chaos of the Morghon Riot, so they’re calling her Battleborn.”
“Laena Battleborn,” Corlys said aloud. “A fierce and strong name. She will live up to it I am sure.”
“Not for many years more let’s hope,” Aurane said. “For now at least, let the children be young. We will fight the battles in their stead, and bring them a bright future.”
The next day, Aurane and his brother went back out into the city to continue leading their troops. It took six more days of fighting, but eventually after a week, the riots had been put down, and dissent had been crushed throughout the city. Scattered survivors might survive in isolated corners, but they would be put down over the coming months, never posing a true threat ever again.
The devastation of the Morghon Riot would become clear as the dust settled. At least thirty thousand people had died in the carnage, and half the city had burned to the ground as a result of the riots and the battles. It would take years for Tyrosh to recover from the devastation, but fortunately, House Velaryon had found the funds to support the rebuilding.
Much wealth had been squirreled away by the Towers, embezzled from the government and businesses of the city. The local temples were also extravagantly rich and ornate, and with each of them having joined the rioters, the Velaryons had stopped caring of religious protests and seized every last piece of wealth they could from anyone and everyone in the city that had opposed them. Viserra’s recovery made it even easier too, as Dreamfyre soon reinforced the Velaryon soldiers as they brought the city under their absolute control.
Furthermore, their efforts to help Driftmark recover from the sanctions had finally begun to bear fruit after all these years. Domestic production and yields of silk, tea, and other products such as concrete had increased greatly and trade had shifted to Essos as they found new markets or expanded old ones. Little by little, funds began flowing back into the depleted coffers of House Velaryon, and they had decided that it would be safe to pull from their reserves to speed up the rebuilding of Tyrosh and Driftmark both.
House Velaryon had emerged victorious from the trial of Tyrosh. Their fortunes were rising once more, and Aurane for one was eager to see what high tide they might reach next. If only Rhaekar were here to see it, he thought regretfully.
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Author’s Note: Boom! Morghon Riot defeated! The turning point is complete, and now begins the second rise of House Velaryon! Stay tuned for the coming chapters to see it unfold!
Comments
Tertius711
Stay tuned for Ch33! It will be handled there!
Jesús Leonardo
And the stepstones?? What happen with bloodstone??
Tertius711
Glad you liked the chapter! Stay tuned to see how the Stepstones Crisis and the second Velaryon rise goes!
Gary Brown
First loved this chapter the parallels to real history were great. Second as to the Stepstone Crisis you alluded to I have two thoughts on how that could go about The Crisis could be happening because the vast majority of the new lords are all under age and so have incompetent stewards or worse the stewards are tyrants so the locals turn against them or to one of the two close by powers that could remove them Dorne or Tyr. Also I look forward to seeing the second rise of House Velaryon hopefully their territorial gains last longer then Justinians who's territory gains were lost by the end of his grandkids reign.
