The Red Deer

Chapter 7: Chapter 7



"My lord..." a low, gentle whisper filled my right ear, interrupted by a gentle nibble ... of my "poor" ear. "My Lord..." The voice was more insistent this time, \ " someone has come for you there .

Forced to open my eyes, I finally looked back. And what can I say? The view that opened up was more than to my taste. The room was exquisitely furnished, with soft sofas and low tables, and was densely packed with all sorts of dishes and wines. \ A huge oval bed with lots of small pillows and a silk blanket was waiting for me along with three girls with low social responsibility.

It just so happens that the celebration in honor of the appointment of my beloved to a new position was a little delayed. For about a week. With small breaks, of course, because I'm still not iron man and sometimes I need to rest. The final chord of this mega party was another visit to the brothel. I have to admit, I have no idea which one, or how exactly I ended up here."

I was woken up by an adorable bird with blonde hair, blue eyes, and lips that could only be described as "sweet". Mmmmmm ... the temptation was too great, and all the business of the day ahead, as well as the still unknown visitor, was postponed for later in favor of a hot kiss with a slight taste of alcohol. The latter was soon interrupted by a noise outside the door, which finally woke up the two remaining birds. They immediately began to playfully act up, which I and their "companion" continued without them. But as much as I wanted to, the noise and cursing outside the door was starting to irritate me.

"Okay, girls, that's enough for today! Reaching out, he found his wallet in a pile of his own clothes, which, to the credit of this establishment, no one else had ever touched. "This is for you personally, take a break."

The inspired girls thanked me, hugging me and showering me with quick kisses. Then they gathered up their modest (or rather, not at all modest) clothes and ran out of the room, laughing loudly.

Groaning, he got up from the bed, which, due to the forced awakening, seemed to him the softest and most beautiful place on earth. He put on trousers and a flowery dressing gown.

"Well, who needs me there? !

After some hesitation, two men entered the room. Rogers, who was already my right-hand man and probably already my friend, with his usual lean expression, dressed in armor, and a young man with his chin raised in indignation. The latter wore a richly embroidered blue-and-white doublet bearing the Arryn coat of arms.

Benedict calmly and cautiously took over my guard. I had up to ten people with me all the time, taking regular turns. Poor things, it must be hard for them to guard the lord in the brothel ... Should I write out a bonus? Well, Benedict himself stays around all the time, even in his armor." How they can even be worn on a regular basis, the mind is incomprehensible.

"My Lord," Arren's man spoke first, before Benedict could speak, " the Lord Hand wishes to see you."""It's strange that of all the people in this brothel, Lord Arryn only wants to see me.""Ignoring the bubbling (oh, this could be fun) cheeky young man, I poured two glasses of Dornish. Sweet and light wine, characterized by a rich plum aroma. I silently handed the glass to Benedict, who nodded curtly and accepted it without a sound. "Sire"... What is your name?"

"Just Hugh, my lord." I am the squire of the Lord Hand. "- Aha, the kid is used to the status of aide-de-camp to the "Prime Minister"... everyone's love and respect.

"So, just Hugh, tell the Lord Hand that I'll be there in, say, three hours."

"That's absolutely impossible, my lord,"the guy said after a short pause, shaking his head indignantly and spreading his fingers nervously a couple of times. "Lord Arryn has given me clear instructions to bring you here as soon as possible."

Even Rogers was moved by this performance, as evidenced by the indignantly raised left eyebrow.

"Well —" I spread my hands dramatically, " if the Lord Hand himself commands, then who am I to resist his will?" Let's go now!

"My lord... like this?"

"No, of course not, where am I going without my boots?"

***

Shock and awe. That's exactly what was on John Arryn's face when I appeared, shock — exactly, awe... maybe. Fortunately, the climate and the figure allows you to walk around in a silk transparent robe. Wow, there will be so many rumors and gossip, it will be interesting to listen.

John's apartment is wonderful. The eye was pleased with the spacious large hall with a work desk, wide windows overlooking the bay, and a balcony. The room is tastefully furnished, beautiful furniture, expensive carpets, all kinds of papers and notes are neatly stacked on a long work table, without creating a shadow of disorder even where it would be forgiven.

—My Lord," he bent slightly to greet the old man, "an invasion?" An epidemic? Dragons?

— Hello, Renly. There was an ill—concealed confusion in the hand's voice, "I'm sorry... what?"

 Without haste, I approach the table where John was sitting, and on which a glass decanter with wine and a light snack were already waiting in the wings. Without asking permission, I make myself comfortable right in front of the old man who so desired our meeting and fill our cups. Hugh remained at the door.

"Well, somehow I can't think of any other reason to barge in on me while I was enjoying a conversation about high things with three beautiful nymphs. To break in and drag me here.

Arren turned his head slowly, like a battleship turning its main-caliber turrets, in the direction of his squire.

— I'm free.

 To catch up so much ice in one word is a rare gift and a valuable skill. Wow, you really need to be able to do this. Hugh jumped out as if scalded, but still managed to come to his senses in time and carefully closed the doors.

— Forgive him, — already addressing me, — he is young and stupid…

— Next time, send an old and smart one, — after taking a good sip of wine, he continued. — Youth and stupidity, this sweet couple, always go hand in hand.

— Yeah, — the old man accepted his cup of wine, taking a light sip, — which cannot be said about you. And yes, there will definitely be twice as many rumors about you in the near future.

— I tried my best. — I could only answer, thinking how much someone else's words were praise, and how much sarcasm.

— Ha, — a kind smile appeared on the decrepit face of the right hand, — the spitting image of Robert in his youth. Unless you're smarter.

"It's a strange situation, my lord, I've only been in King's Landing for a week, during which I've been actively engaged except in drunkenness and whores, and I haven't shone with my mind yet.

— I've been living for eight decades now, and I can tell the difference between grain and chaff. Moreover, you are the king's brother, and everyone considers it their duty to find out as much as possible about you.

— And what is being deduced? What do they say?

— That's what I'm glad about. He is strong, smart, kind, loved by both the rabble and the nobility. You drink moderately, as in principle, and indulge in pleasures.

— If you compare me to Robert or Tyrion Lannister, then yes. But I'm still young, I'll catch up.

The simple joke went surprisingly well, but when Arren stopped laughing, he looked serious.

"I need your help, Renly, help with government.

To ask for the help of a young man who relatively recently began to rule independently in his own patrimony. Old man, how desperate are you?

"Robert," Arren continued, without waiting for questions from me, "he didn't give a damn about my advice and exhortations, he doesn't want to hear anything. Every year he sinks deeper and deeper into the abyss of debauchery and drunkenness. And, what is much scarier, indifference to the affairs of the kingdom. Stannis… no one knows what is going on in his soul, but he certainly did not become kinder from the hardships of life. Neither Robert nor Stannis see or want to see that the kingdom is in danger of many troubles and trials, and they continue to cherish long-standing grievances.

— The state is always in danger of something. That's how it was, is and will be.

— That's right, but look where we've come to? The Targaryens have been gone for twenty years, and many, take my word for it, many still cherish the dream of their return. The Lannisters are getting stronger and more influential every day, gaining more and more power. Dorn and the Expanse accumulate resentments, it is hard for the proud to put up with the fact that they are on the sidelines of power. So far, we have managed to keep the situation under control, but…

— Under control, — I unceremoniously interrupt the old man, who was carried away by a lecture on domestic politics, — you don't keep anything. Previously, Westeros trembled in fear from Robert and his hammer, and behind him stood four great Houses, boasting many worthy representatives. And now Robert, to put it mildly, is out of shape, and our Houses are no longer so numerous. How many Arryns are there now?

— Two…

— Two. You, John, and your son. Of course, if you search the Valley, you will find a lot of bastards or side branches, but it's not for me to tell you that these are not the same Arryns anymore. And how many Baratheons are there outside King's Landing? The three of us are me, Stannis, and baby Shireen. Of course, Stannis stopped listening to you, because someone insisted on his marriage to the Florentine girl, just to cool the Tyrells' ardor. And in the end, this marriage did not give Stannis or the Kingdom anything... except for a few miscarriages. No wonder Stannis is tired of sacrificing himself for you and Robert. Shall we continue? Tully, the link between the Arryn and Stark alliance. How many representatives of the main branch of the Tally, who could continue the family, do we have? One, John, one Edmure, and that's it. There is only one person from the once large House. There are no complaints about the Starks, Eddard works for all of us, but only he is far away, and he does not care with all northern respect what happens south of the Isthmus, and as for the Lannisters," I continued after a brief pause, without waiting for a reaction, "there are about four dozen of them. Tyrell's the same way. Martell's dick knows how many. At the same time, and this cannot be forgotten in any way, without the Lannisters, Robert would not have held power, and none of his heirs will. An alliance with the Lannisters was necessary for us, and there is no equality in an alliance — there is a leader and there is a follower. Can we blame the Lannisters for going from leading to being led? We can and we will, but it was our fault anyway. After all, Tywin is "just" paying for your and Robert's whims and rightly asks for certain concessions in return.

Arren was silent, thoughtfully examining the tapestry on the wall. The only thing that betrayed his emotions was his furiously contracting muscles. There is no denial as such, I did not open America to the old man.

— But the situation is not so hopeless, — I smile cheerfully at the surprised John, — The Lannisters are true lions, and only Tywin's will holds this huge crowd of lions and lionesses together. And people are mortal and, to our great fear, suddenly mortal. Let's imagine that Tywin will be gone tomorrow. Who will be the new Lord of Casterly Rock?

—Tyrion," John replied immediately.

— According to the law. But tell me, would other Lannisters tolerate being ruled by... someone like him? I'm afraid not. But it will only be to our advantage for the lions to fight with each other, and they will fight, rest assured. We just need to live up to this moment and help whom we need and when we need everything we need. The only representative of the House of Lannister to be feared, besides Tywin, is Cersei. The rest are... not impressive. Now the Tyrells. They are rich, but extremely careful, they will not act against the crown for sure. They are not allies, but they are not enemies either. Dorn is in a similar situation, but they are also plotting their endless and useless plots against Tywin there. But even so, as long as taxes are paid.

The Right Hand was silent for a long time. Eventually, the old man relaxed and leaned back in his chair, shifting his gaze to me.

"Now I'm sure I wasn't mistaken when I called you to the capital.

— Well, it's not evening yet.

***

The northern tower of the Red Castle offers an excellent view of the capital's harbor, as well as many ships small and large, pot-bellied and predatory. As for shipbuilding, in Westeros and in the rest of the known world, it is very specific in comparison with the history of shipbuilding in Europe that I know. In fact, there is no clear classification of ships in Westeros and Essos. At the same time, karakks and galleons, kogas, rooks and even dromons are being built here. From somewhere came the term "galea", which the locals call all ships with oars in a crowd. In short, a complete mess. When reading the books, it was clear that Martin did not understand ships, as, indeed, did his editors, but seeing this mess in person turned out to be dangerous for the mind.

 Let's say a Braavosian galleon is sailing over there, the length of which, to the eye, is more than forty meters. High side, there will definitely be three decks, four masts, advanced sailing armament, crew ... let's say six hundred people, displacement of five hundred tons. It's not the biggest galleon I know, but for the locals it's just a real giant, the lord of the seas, a sea fortress, and, bitch, an absolutely useless ship. Galleons, which represented the next evolutionary step after the karakka, were built in Europe for almost one single purpose — for trade among the oceans. And in a Narrow sea it is very crowded for a galleon. It's too crowded! Frequent storms, pirates scurrying through numerous harbors of the coast on nimble and small ships, short distances between coastal cities, an underdeveloped monetary economy (and this is even in free cities), and consequently the flow of goods... all of them reset the value of the galleon as a merchant ship. Which, in principle, can be said about his fighting qualities. Without guns, this is a useless ship in battle, too slow and clumsy, it is only useful for transporting troops. Of course, you can place a bunch of archers and several dozen ballistae on the galleon, you can even try to use it as a warship. But without the oars, which the galleon has, but is it purely for docking? The galleon will stupidly not be able to maneuver in calm weather and will become an easy target, as the captains of the Spanish galleys have repeatedly proved when meeting with English galleons off the coast of Spain. At the same time, it is also a fairly expensive ship. It is easier to equip ten cohorts than one galleon. Yes, as many as ten kogas and just one galleon will have equal carrying capacity, but it is much harder to sink ten kogas than one galleon.

 So who builds galleons in this world and for what? The Letnians were the first to build such ships, and, of course, we are talking about swan ships. But a new era of civil strife has come to the summer islands and such ships began to be built less and less often, because the thing is very expensive. Instead, they began to be built in Braavos and Volantis, the richest and most influential free cities, which seek to spread their trade influence to the farthest corners of the world. Plus, for the transportation of particularly large sums of money.

 In my inner thoughts, I finally waited for what I've been standing here for an hour. A ship began to enter the harbor, decorously and majestically, on whose bow a golden deer's head began to let out sunbeams. Stannis finally decided to visit the capital. The Fury is an incredible ship. Everyone calls it a large galley, but this is a typical galleon, if inferior in displacement to a galleon, then not much, but it is definitely more useful in battle. Three hundred fucking oars, high sides covering several hundred archers and scorpion batteries, mixed sailing armament. Yes, the payload is seriously less than that of the same galleon, due to the rowers' pits, but the Fury, as befits with such a name, is a warship, and that says it all. Now I have no doubt that this ship cut Euron's rook in half. Compared, damn it, a drakkar with a galleon on oars. "Rage" is the nightmare of any naval commander who stands up to it, and especially the Ironborn. The escort ships were decorously trailing behind the flagship of the Royal Navy. They're not that healthy, but you can't call them ordinary galleys either.

***

Tannis. The king's brother, the famous naval commander, the lord of Dragonstone, and just a very harsh man. Renly didn't really like his brothers, considering himself better than them for various selfish reasons, just as any teenager considers himself smarter and better than any adult... and the enormous power that Renly had possessed since his youth left a certain imprint on his mind. Personally, I have great respect for Stannis, he is a man who can be relied on in any business and endeavor, he will not cheat, lie, hide and pity the great-powerful feelings of a king or lord. Especially considering what he's been through and what he's been through. Stannis is a man worthy of respect, brotherly love and gratitude. From Renly, for sure.

 What can you say about Stannis's appearance? I don't remember exactly how he was described in the books, but he looks very much like the actor who played him... except younger. Tall, thin and wiry, his head, which has begun to go bald, is covered with sparse black hair with a streak of gray. He is dressed in an expensive, high-quality, but modestly trimmed doublet in gray tones.

— Brother! "it wasn't that hard to catch Stannis in the corridors of the Red Castle, especially with so many dark niches. Who would have doubted that Stannis, as soon as he arrived at King's Landing, would immediately go to the meeting of the small council. It didn't take a genius to catch my older brother in the hallway I needed.

— Renly. — A calm statement of fact, not a greeting, Stannis's dark eyes began to study my joyful face intently, — you have grown up.

— And you've aged even more! — I hug my brother with a laugh, which he was very surprised at, — sincerely glad to see you, brother.

Stannis only nodded in response. Maybe it seemed to me, but in my opinion he frowned a little less. I noticed the man who accompanied my brother. He was a short man with a graying beard and a plain face, dressed even more modestly than Stannis.

— Ser Seaworth, — I also hug the savior of Storm's End, which greatly surprised both Davos himself and his older brother, — I am glad to see you in good health.

"Thank you, my lord... I must admit, I didn't recognize you at first. You have matured a lot since our last meeting.

— That's for sure, but we will still have time to talk, but it's not worth keeping the small council waiting.

 On the way to the small council hall, Davos and I talked very actively, while Stannis did not say a word the whole way. The onion Knight, although illiterate, is very intelligent and even, one might say, a wise man who has learned the marine sciences to the fullest, though not on paper, but in practice, in the clear sea. I think someone, and he will definitely be able to chew that leapfrog with ships for me... maybe I don't catch something, but I'm ready to call everyone idiots?

 They were already waiting for us in the hall. It turned out that my brother and I were the last. John sat in the center of the table in his traditional blue and white robes. On the right are Petyr Baelish and Varys, on the left Barristan Selmy and Pycelle. Varys and Pycelle are on the corners, there are empty seats in front of Baelish and Selmy, mine is in front of Baelish, Stannis is in front of Selmy.

 After briefly greeting each other, we sat down. I have already briefly met the members of the small council, some at a banquet, and some in the countless corridors of the castle. Baelish, sitting opposite, beamed with self-confidence and a sly, "kind of knowing everything", otherwise not to say, a mug that asked for a brick. He was thin, with a neat beard, and wore an expensive doublet. Varys, who fit on my left hand, had the look of a servant hanging on every word of the leadership, wrapped in a robe embroidered with gold and pearls. As in the book, he is completely bald, and, apparently, in makeup, or in its local equivalent, very ... well-fed. Barristan Selmy, tall and broad-shouldered, clean-shaven with a crew cut of thick gray hair. He made me associate with a brave American colonel who loves the smell of napalm and Viet Cong for breakfast, but there is intelligence in his eyes. Pycelle ... he is an old man, what else can I say? Only that he looks curiously at the audience, chewing his lips.

 After ornate greetings and sugary smiles, the council finally began its work. The Small Council is a rather classic medieval governing body with different levels of authority. A necessary element — no king or other ruler could rule alone. Unless it's a loony. Under Robert, the small council received enormous powers, in fact, it is he who rules Westeros. For me, participation in the small council is extremely interesting. The chance to see the management of a medieval feudal state from the inside falls ... let's say, "rarely and under special circumstances." Two people were talking mostly, Varys and Baelish. Varys is about rumors and other intelligence on both sides of the Narrow Sea, Baelish is about money, income and expenses. Selmy and Stannis were silent, with few exceptions…

— We need additional funds to build new ships and repair the current ones. — Said, as cut off, the master of the ships.

—That's impossible, Lord Stannis," that nasty grin came out on Littlefinger's face again, "there's too little gold in the treasury, we'll have to borrow again next year anyway." According to preliminary estimates alone, there are about half a million dragons, and a third of this amount will go to repay our previous loans.

"There are two hundred ships in the Royal Navy," this conversation obviously comes up not for the first time, because Stannis is very calm, "most of it was built more than fifteen years ago. If we do not repair the ships properly, then about thirty ships will simply rot by the beginning of next year, and in another year or two we will not have a fleet at all.

— Lord Renly, what do you think about this? — Baelish turned his head to me, — maybe a fresh look will judge us?

Are you trying to suck up or the other way around? Or maybe you're just moving the arrows to end an unpleasant argument? John, who had been looking thoughtful until now, nodded weakly.

"Thank you, Lord Baelish. Unfortunately, I'm not as good at embezzlement as you are... or whatever your position is called? — it seemed to me, or Pycelle grunted, suppressing laughter.

—The master of the coin, Lord Renly. — Petyr holds the punch well, although the smile is no longer so natural, I can infuriate no worse.

— Exactly, — he snapped his fingers a couple of times, as if remembering, — how much does the crown owe at the moment? In general, is that so?

— Five million.

 It turns out that before the beginning of the canon, the crown owed about seven million. That is, in two years the crown will sink by two more lamas. But, that's understandable, debts are like a snowball... but I'm just wondering where the original debt is growing from? The Targaryen legacy or the efforts of Robert and such an enterprising treasurer... treasurer?

— Hmm, I admit, I thought there would be more. Especially knowing my older brother. What is the total income of the royal treasury?

— Nine hundred thousand.

It's decent.

— Expenses?

— One million two hundred.

— The difference is decent, but not so terrible. What are the costs?

— The most expensive thing for the kingdom is the fleet, which is about three hundred thousand a year. The maintenance of the Royal Highway requires another two hundred thousand, the maintenance of the Red Castle and the Royal Harbor, including the port, walls, towers, salaries for the garrison and city guards require another three hundred thousand, annual gifts to the Citadel and the Night Watch of fifty thousand each.

It is clear that such prices are heavily rounded, but we can safely assume that a third of these costs stick to various unclean pens.

— As a result, we have about nine hundred thousand, where are the remaining three hundred thousand spent?

— For the leisure of the king.

— Do you mean to say that our king drinks, eats and leaves three hundred thousand gold in brothels a year?

— extremely rarely, — Petyr looked at me so paternally, as if he were a fool, - as a rule, much more. Under His Majesty, tournaments are a frequent occurrence, and the mood of the king is very changeable.

It was my turn to look with an expression, but not at Petyr, but at John. There's no fucking way to drink so much money, eat it up and ... although, most likely, this is already an established process, and the price tag for the king is being wound up to the maximum even for any consumer goods. I'm sure Comrade Baelish is profiting from this. Doesn't John know? Doesn't see it? And if, on the contrary, he corrects the financial situation of his kind? After all, the Valley in general and the Arryns in particular have never been famous for high incomes.

"Lord Admiral," Stannis turned his head slightly in my direction, "how much do you need to repair and build new ships?"

"Two hundred thousand just for repairs, and another eighty thousand for laying new ships.

"Just that?" My Lords, I certainly do not know ... whose, — more kindness in his eyes, more! — and not even a naval commander, but these are very small amounts, and the crown will be able to allocate them. Yes, I understand, we will have to limit ourselves... not the king... but, I think, over time, we will get used to drinking wine not from gold cups, but from silver ones. Defending the Fatherland requires self-sacrifice from us, my lords.

Moreover, to build and upgrade the Baratheon fleet at the expense of the Lannisters ... ha, such an opportunity rarely comes and should not be missed. Hmm, but you can do more than just the fleet…


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