Halfhand's Legacy: A Dance of Dragons - A Self-Insert Tale

129 AC

"If you wish to resign and march with Lord Ormund to the Westerlands, you are free to do so. I do not blame you," I said to Tyland as we sat alone in the Small Council chambers.

"Your Grace had to make a difficult decision. Daemon was baiting you; if you had fallen for it, this city might have fallen over into Rhaenyra's hands. There are just some things that we cannot control no matter what. Difficult decisions must be made no matter how hard they seem." Tyland quietly remarked. "My brother was a dead man the minute Daemon set his eyes on the West but I have full confidence in my goodsister Johanna, House Lannister will not fall to Daemon."

"Within a day or two, I am certain that we will get news of the Golden Tooth's destruction. Daemon's army will charge into the Westerlands, the Ironborn are likely to attack from the coast. Lannisport is fucked. How long can the Rock hold them off?"

"As long as you want, Your Grace. The Rock will not fall. No matter how much Daemon attacks it with fire, it will withstand. Even if he breaks open the Lion's Mouth and the Ironborn storm the sea gates, the Rock will not fall. The tunnels of Casterly Rock with all its passages and mineshafts will be a massive problem for Daemon, he will be lucky if he can capture even a tenth of the castle. Ten men can hold off a hundred and a hundred can hold off a thousand. Even if Daemon throws all his men inside the Rock he will be hard-pressed to capture it. The Rock will fall only if a Lannister surrenders and Johanna will never surrender. She will get you all the time you need to capture Dragonstone and turn to the West." Tyland confidently said to me.

"Hopefully, we will be lucky that Daemon gets himself killed in the close-quarters fighting inside the Rock then," I remarked and Tyland nodded.

"The army and the fleet are ready, we will be leaving tomorrow and put an end to this war," I continued. The war was about to come to its conclusion and the fate of the realm hinged on the coming battle. Rhaenys was the dragon to beat but this time there would be Rhaenyra and Rhaena to deal with as well.

"Your Grace," Tyland said with no small amount of trepidation as he pushed forward his ledgers, "There is a problem that has been festering under our noses. I was lax to face this problem as my duties mounted."

"What problem?" I asked him with a puzzled look as I pulled over one of the ledgers and opened it. It was the ledger for expenses of the war effort.

"Before your coronation, your grandfather and I made the arrangements for the division of the treasury to ensure that should Rhaenyra capture the city, she will find herself with nothing. The treasury was divided into four parts, one to the Iron Bank, one to Oldtown, one to Casterly Rock and the final part was to be used for the war effort."

"Yes, I am well aware of that. I approved such an act," I nodded as I leafed over the pages.

"The part meant to be used in the war effort was tabulated to be used as bribes for recalcitrant Lords and to hire sellswords. It wasn't meant to be used for establishing an entire fleet and a massive army of ten thousand." Tyland said as he pointed out the relevant pages. "I would have added the Iron Bank's share into that of the current treasury for these expenses had I bothered to check our new expenses before immediately splitting off the treasury."

"Fuck," I muttered, "Are you telling me that we are now in a deficit." I was always a spendthrift but this could spell disaster for us all.

"We are," Tyland grimly replied. "I have already instructed the Treasury to start issuing promissory notes for any new contracts and deals but the already dissatisfied merchants have received this as a sign that the Crown no longer has gold. Most of them are starting to demand gold instead of promissory notes for their payments. The other option to raise money would be raising taxes but with the already high price of bread, increasing taxes seems to be a folly that could damage morale."

"That was all we needed," I fizzled as I took the next book. "Wait a minute, if a single part of the treasury from either Oldtown or the Iron Bank were to arrive, it would be more than enough to pay off these debts, shouldn't it."

"Yes, Your Grace, it will," Tyland replied with a nod, "Now that the Roseroad is cleared and secured in our hands. We can send a raven to Oldtown demanding the part of the treasury sent there. It will arrive within a fortnight at most after receiving the raven."

"Good, make sure to send the raven and write a special note for a certain Myles Hightower, tell him that we expect to receive all of the gold that was sent to Oldtown else he will hang for stealing from the King. That cunt has stolen a good part of it. Don't ask how I know," I said to him closing the ledger. Tyland nodded without further comment.

"In the meantime, to deal with the current shortage of money, I have already instructed the Treasury to start clipping and debasing the coins to make up for the shortfall in paying the soldiers," Tyland further continued.

"Wait, what? No, no, no," I stopped them right there, "We are not debasing the coinage. The last thing we need is an economic collapse the minute the war ends." I did not become King to deal with inflation.

"But how else will we pay the soldiers?" Tyland asked bemused, "I doubt the sellswords will accept any writ of gold even if it is written by the King. This could cause a mutiny."

"Urgh, come on. This is getting out of hand, the war is about to be over." I groaned before calming down and taking deep breaths, "Alright then, we will debase the coins and clip them but no more than a tenth of the original. Understood?' I asked Tyland who nodded.

"Yes, Your Grace," Tyland replied, "It will buy us time until the treasury from Oldtown arrives."

"Now you said something about the high price of bread," I continued. High prices of bread were always a bad thing, people do not like to be hungry and hungry people riot and riots are bad, very bad especially since I know exactly how bad riots during the Dance can become.

Tyland replied, "Ever since the army from the Reach has arrived, we have had thirty thousand mouths more to feed in addition to the ten thousand of the army that we have already raised. And now with the upcoming campaigns into the Westerlands, Riverlands, and Stormlands, we have been forced to ration and requisition grain to feed the soldiers and establish proper supply lines for them. This has led to a strain on our supplies."

"The price of bread has increased by more than eight times before the war. The Reachmen are housed in the homes of the people of King's Landing with families made to provide for them. Needless to say, they are not welcome and people are not happy with them." Nobody likes unwanted guests.

I doubt the entire Reach army is housed in the city, just probably everyone that isn't a sellsword. So basically every man-at-arms, crossbowman, and pikeman that wears the Hightower colours is living inside the homes of some Kingslander or the other. That makes up more than ten thousand men on its own without the sellswords encamped outside the walls. This spells trouble from a mile away. I need to get them all out of this city before it is too late.

"Wait a minute, why doesn't the army from the Reach feed themselves? They should have enough and more supplies themselves," I asked looking over our expense for bread.

Tyland shrugged, "They brought enough for their march to King's Landing for it is expected of the Crown to supply the armies fighting for the Crown."

"Fuck this," I muttered as I ran my buried my head in my hands. I had to feed forty thousand people plus however many camp followers. I hate logistics.

Tyland remarks, "While I suppose that the army meant for the Stormlands can supply itself on the march, I am afraid the same cannot be said about the army for the Westerlands and Riverlands. The Blacks are certain to have stripped the Riverlands bare before they left and the Northern Reach has been burnt after Your Grace's attack on Goldengrove and Bitterbridge or as they now call it, Burntbridge."

I shake my head, "That makes no sense, I didn't destroy the fields, just the castles. Whatever fires may have spread to the fields were stopped by the Tyrells and most of the fields were already harvested so the fire did not have much to burn."

"That is part of the problem, Your Grace," Tyland replied, "Most of Bitterbridge and Goldengrove's stores were already filled and their fields harvested when you attacked. This year's harvests were destroyed in the fires. Most of the Northmarch is already on hard times while Bitterbridge is slightly better."

Great, my actions have consequences and I did not expect them to be this.

"While there are many castles on the Goldroad, their stores will not be enough for Lord Ormund's army unless they take everything and let the people starve," Tyland continued as I groaned.

"Is it bad enough that there will be a famine after this war once winter arrives?" I asked cautiously. The last thing I need is to deal with a famine right after this war.

Tyland thought for a moment before answering, "It won't be widespread I assume, the West will certainly starve if Daemon decides to burn the Westerlands for our loyalty to your cause, Your Grace, and the same can be said about the Northmarch but the other areas of the Reach can feed both without much trouble. The Vale has been relatively unaffected by the devastation that tends to accompany dragons," Small mercies. "The Riverlands have also been unaffected with only the Brackens and the Vances of Atranta being attacked."

"Fine, we will feed them but how is the mood in the city? Surely it cannot be so bad that bread riots break out." I asked hopefully.

Tyland replied, "There haven't been riots as of late but the mood in the city is shifting, most are seeing the Reachmen as thieves stealing their bread and they blame them for the high prices. It would be ideal for the Reachmen to leave as soon as possible before tensions explode in our faces. I wouldn't put it past Lady Misery to instigate riots in the city in Rhaenyra's name." The same could be said about Larys, I thought darkly.

"What the fuck has Larys been saying about all this?" I asked him and Tyland shook his head.

"He has said nothing, I asked him in the Council about how badly the people took the high prices of bread but he shrugged it off saying that most of them could bear it for they all lived in fear of Your Grace after the purge of the Gold Cloaks."

"Fuck, why do we even have that asshole around?" I thought aloud then I remembered something I forgot. Trystane Truefyre and Perkin the Flea, Gaemon Palehair, and the fucking Shepherd, were all problems for me to solve.

I haven't slept with any whore on the House of Kisses ever so there can be no Gaemon Palehair but the same cannot be said about Trystane and Perkin and of course that one-armed Shepherd. All these anarchists were connected by one thread, Larys Strong. He had to die right now so that his plots become nonexistent, Perkin would do nothing without Larys' blessing, and once he was dead Perkin would abandon Trystane in a heartbeat. It can't be so hard to find a one-handed begging brother.

I buried my face in my hands before taking a deep breath and I turned to Tyland, "When do the Reachmen leave the city?"

"In a sennight," Tyland answered, "Long enough for Your Grace to capture Dragonstone and return."

"No, not any more," I replied shaking my finger, "They leave tomorrow as does our fleet for Dragonstone. We are kicking the Reachmen out of this city before the tensions explode right into our faces."

"What if Lord Ormund asks about dragon support should he face Daemon before you arrive?" Tyland queried. Why does Tyland have to ask so many questions about my plan? Because he is a good hand that is why, I thought with a groan. Better to have a hand that asks questions rather than one that doesn't. Incompetent buffoons, corrupt dogs, lickspittles and sycophants have never really been my thing.

"I don't know, tell him something that will get him out of this city and into the Westerlands. In the time it takes to march from King's Landing, Aemond and I will be done with Dragonstone and we will show up on time for dealing with Daemon."

I followed that up by, "Send a raven to Highgarden asking them to increase the grain shipments up the Mander to Tumbleton and increase the number of wagons, carts, and Wayns coming to and from Tumbleton."

"Will do, Your Grace," Tyland nodded.

"Alright then, let us recap, start writing this down, we cannot afford to forget any of this, all of this must be completed by nightfall," I say to Tyland who immediately takes his quill and ink and opens a new page of the ledger ready to write.

"Step One: Send a raven to the Hightower demanding that they send back the gold from the Crown's Treasury with a special note for that idiot Myles, if one copper is missing, his head will roll and Ormund will not lift a finger to save his arse."

"Agreed," Tyland nodded as he began to scribble on the page.

"Step Two: Send a raven to Highgarden telling them to increase the grain shipments up the Mander to Tumbleton and then to King's Landings, arrangements for the wagons and carts must be made accordingly."

"Yes, Your Grace," Tyland remarked as he dipped his quill in ink once more.

"Step Three: We start debasing the coinage and clip the coins but no more than a tenth of their original value. We also add price caps for the value of bread and other goods to ensure that the prices do not run away to hell in this city. This of course is a temporary measure until the war is won."

"Of course."

"Step Four: Kick the Reachmen out of the city tomorrow morning. Call an emergency meeting tonight and outline new plans for Reachmen to follow. The sooner they are out of the city the better for us all."

"That people will thank you for this, Your Grace."

"Step Five: Execute any begging brother or septon preaching treason on the spot or any other trouble makers." Hopefully, a one-armed corpse-like begging brother will be the first one on the gallows. "Order my uncle to set up new gallows near each of the gates for better effect on the newcomers."

"Commander Gwayne can see to it," Tyland nodded, "Whatever nonsense the begging brothers preach can have a detrimental effect on the people's morale."

"Step Six: Execute Larys Strong on charges of treason today itself."

The quill broke, "Huh?" Tyland looked at me confounded.

"Oh, right. I did not tell you about that. Larys has been grooming a bastard son of my father to replace me and Rhaenyra in the upcoming instability," I replied calmly.

"Huh?" Tyland had no response.

"SER CRISTON," I loudly called out and the man standing outside the door immediately entered the chambers. "BRING ME HIS HEAD."

For a few seconds, Criston was confused as well, "Whose head? Your Grace."

"Right, forgot to mention that to you as well," I smacked myself before saying, "Larys, we are going to kill Larys." I unsheathed Blackfyre from its scabbard and walked around the table. "Let us go kill him, right now." The longer that serpent lives, the more likely I find myself facing an early grave.

"Wait, we haven't discussed this yet," Tyland hurriedly said as he grabbed his ledgers before following me and a more than a little confused Criston.

"We will discuss it on the way," I replied, "Now where is Larys."

I kicked open the door to Alicent's chambers with Blackfyre in my hand and I found Larys sitting on a couch opposite Alicent, I didn't bother to look around and take a good look at the situation as I said, "Time to die, Clubfoot. I have tolerated your presence for too long."

Larys turned around, his face white as milk right before I decapitated him. About the time that fucker learned to fear me, too late though. Valyrian Steel was smooth as fuck, his neck did not give any resistance as Blackfyre sliced through as if it was soft bread.

"Sorry, about the mess, Mother," I said to a petrified Alicent splattered in blood and too shocked to speak. "It had to be done. You have no idea what this man was about to do and," I stopped speaking as I finally took notice of the situation. Larys' headless corpse had his dick out with his dead fingers still wrapped around it.

"Why the fuck is Larys' cock out in the open?" I incredulously asked as Criston and Tyland entered the room. I looked at Alicent once more, her legs were out and her stockings were on the bed. This looks so wrong in a million different ways.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" I demanded as Alicent fainted from the shock.

"I don't want to talk about it," I muttered as Aemond walked over to me at the gathering of the Generals.

"I don't even want to ask but I have to know, did you know about this?" Aemond asks with a dangerous tone.

"No, I didn't. I took his head for some other reason, it was purely by coincidence I stumbled on what I did," I replied softly. I wish that I did not stumble on that, I had to do damage control after that incident, the new story was that Larys was 'about' to attack the Queen Dowager when I rescued my mother. Hence, she was in isolation for now.

"We will never speak of this, this never happened," Aemond said with finality.

"I don't even know what happened," I replied as I tried to purge my head of that memory.

"Everyone gather around, there has been a change of plans," I announced once all the Lords were inside the painted courtyard of Maegor's Holdfast.

"With Daemon in the West, we cannot afford to waste any time, which is why the army of the Reach will leave tomorrow morning for their respective targets," I declared. "You needn't worry Lord Ormund about Daemon or anything. He will most likely be bogged down in capturing Casterly Rock or something. By the time you reach the West, we will be there above your heads."

Ormund doesn't look happy about having to march into Daemon's lap without air support, something tells me that his army's march to the West will be ponderously slow. But he doesn't object to the new plan, "As the King wishes."

I then turned to Byrndon Hightower, "House Tully is stripped of its title as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands for their treason and so the Crown does hereby annex the Riverlands into the Crownlands. As such Ser Bryndon, you and your army are entrusted with bringing the Riverlands into the fold of the Crown. Thereby no looting, raping, pillaging, rapine, and plunder of the riverfolk is allowed. They are the Crown's subjects who have been subjected to enemy occupation hence you are to liberate them. No punishment of common folk is allowed, is that understood Ser Byrndon?"

Bryndon bows, "Yes, Your Grace. It will be done as you say. My men will not harm the people of the Riverlands., I swear upon my honour as a Hightower." Many of the Lords were unsettled with how I annexed both the Stormlands and the Riverlands on such short notice but they could go suck it. Perks of being a dragonlord.

Nearly all of these men stopped at the ruins of Bitterbridge to see the destruction I wrought with my dragon. A town of twenty-five thousand souls was now an abandoned pile of ash. It left a clear and indelible mark on them, they knew better than to question me. If Ormund sought to put in a favourable word of his out-of-favour uncle, it died there in Bitterbridge. Bryndon, Unwin Peake, Jon Roxton, Owen Fossoway, Leygood, Norcross, they all knew who was in charge.

Bryndon Hightower was nice as far as Hightowers were concerned. A skilled warrior and tactician, he and Aemond hit it off in the training yards. He wasn't Ormund's second-in-command for no reason, he would be perfect to bring the Riverfolk to heel. Ormund would have to make do with Unwin Peake as his new second-in-command. Tyler Norcross would serve as Bryndon's second-in-command.

I turned to Ser Moryn Tyrell, "The same instruction goes for yourself, Ser Moryn. You are in charge of pacifying the troubled Stormlands and defending against the Dornish. Keep your sentiments about the Stormlanders to a minimum. I expect to receive zero complaints from the Stormlords about your conduct and governance."

"I shall serve faithfully, Your Grace," Ser Moryn bowed deeply.

Two people were the most displeased with the new command structure that I set up, Unwin Peake and Jon Roxton. Both expected to be given independent command and had the balls to say that to my face. I replied with a stony silence backed by Criston and Aemond's menacing looks. Peake was far too ambitious for my liking and Roxton too brash and hotheaded, the Riverlands and Stormlands army were more peacekeeping armies rather than fighting armies. I trusted neither of them to have the brains to keep the peace, they were more likely to start new wars.

"Good," I said nodding and looking around the courtyard. Aemond, Daeron, Tyland, Criston, Jasper, Arryk, Rickard Thorne, Willis Fell, Gyles Belgrave, Ormund, Bryndon, Moryn, Unwin, Hobert, Jon Roxton, Owen Fossoway, Leygood, Ambrose, Graceford, Risley, Rodden. This was the largest gathering of Greens ever. The army is ready to march, the fleet is set to sail, and the dragons are primed for a dance.

"My Lords, in a few hours, the sun will rise and with it, the fate of Westeros will be decided. Prepare yourselves."