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***
278 A.D.E.
Loyalist main camp, Twilight Long.
The royal headquarters was a traditional soldier's camp of the 15th-16th century - tents set up in designated places where soldiers and knights lived, dozens of marching forges and kitchens, from where the shouts of the cooks and blacksmiths who worked there were constantly heard, latrines built nearby, and a very peculiar smell. A smell like I'd only encountered in King's Landing. I even had a suspicion that most of the people here were so accustomed to the smell of shit, hot iron, freshly baked bread and freshly rubbed whores that they unknowingly carried it with them.
After escorting me to the center of the camp, where a giant yellow tent stood, the nameless Velarion knight withdrew, saying that everyone had been warned about me and it was okay to go inside.
Inside the tent, which could easily hold a hundred people, there were only seven people, not counting the guards present. But what people they were.
Quarlton Chelstead. The current master of the coin. A hunched and gaunt man, with a long black mustache and greasy hair, he was known in high circles as the ideal of a legal and clever embezzler - during his ten years in the Small Council, the Seven Kingdoms not only did not drown in debt, but he himself became the owner of a fortune not much inferior to the royal treasury.
Symonds Staunton. Master of the Laws. A creature of Aerys, doing whatever it takes to stay in office. Except for the job at hand. I would never have thought that this straight and proud looking man known throughout Westeros is a coward and a sycophant, hardly a snot wipe for Aerys.
Lucerys Velaryon. Master of the ships. I can't say anything about him. The current Lord of Driftmark was only recently appointed to take over from his deceased father a couple months ago, and that was because of an old tradition that Velaryons have always been Master over Ships under the Targaryens.
Pycelle. Grand Maester. This old man (by local standards - he's barely over sixty) served as far back as Aerys' grandfather and father, Aegon the Incredible and Jehaerys the Wise. There isn't much information on him, but even so I managed to recognize his nickname - Pflueger. He's always on the side of the strongest. It's the only reason he survived.
Ser Herold Hightower, nicknamed White Bull, the Grand Knight, the current Lord Commander of the Royal Guard, did not look at me very friendly. He was a man who was barely fifty, as tall as me and still the strongest of his generation. It was said that in his youth, Herold was much stronger than the current Ertur Dane Sword of Dawn.
And finally, the three remaining who needed no introduction. Tywin Lannister "The Great Lion", the real ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and Rhaegar Targaryen "The Silver Prince", the last hope for the rise of his family, kept their eyes on the map spread out on the table, talking quietly about something, sometimes clarifying some details with a fat, bald and pampered-looking man with soft white hands and a smooth powdered face. Varis. Master over the whisperers.
"The one to watch out for the most." - I thought, taking two steps into the tent and making the traditional forty-degree bow reserved for greeting Grandlords, members of the Small Council, or heirs to the Royal Dynasty. All three categories are gathered here.
«Ah, Lord Temper. - The descendant of ancient Valyria greeted me, turning away from the map and looking in my direction. Man, I'm jealous. The prince and I are the same age, but he looks much prettier than I do. Living proof why the noble Valyrians were considered gods on earth. - We've received news that you've received a letter from my father. Would you care to present it?
«Of course, my prince. - I replied, handing over the letter I had taken from the pockets of my cloak beforehand.
Rhaegar read it and made sure it was real, glanced at the broken seal with the three-headed dragon, and handed the letter to the right hand of the prince, repeating the prince's past actions. For five minutes it went around - everyone from the Small Council (most likely in public) thought it important to read the message personally, to look at it carefully and search for ciphers known to them alone. Staunton even tasted the paper on his tongue, eliciting a wave of disgust from those around him.
«Meister Pycelle. - Finally, when the whole circus with the letter was over, Tywin said. - When did the king send the letter to Lord Temper?
«A few days before his journey, my Lord Hand. - In a voice as dry as sandpaper, the Citadel protégé replied.
«Did he say anything to you before that? - The prince asked him, knowing full well that what he had written was not news to the Maester - reading royal messages before sealing was a favorite tradition among the Grand Maesters, often joked about in the Citadel. He hesitated for a moment, clearly pretending to be a man struggling with marasmus (though it was clear to me at once that he was faking it - I had suffered memory lapses in my old age and knew what it looked like from the outside), but after a couple of minutes he answered:
«He was muttering something about Valyrian steel and defeating some skinned cat.
«Ahem...
Judging by the coughing and sneezing that Staunton was trying to cover his laughter, even the dumbest man understood why Aerys needed me. Valyrian steel weapons. All of the Seven Kingdoms know that Lord Tywin tried at least three times to buy a Valyrian sword from impoverished houses as a replacement for the long-lost Light Roar, but his offers were flatly rejected. It was too status and rare a thing to sell for money.
And then the Martells have a spear made entirely of Valyrian steel (only the tip and counterweight are lies), given to them for their lands and title by a wealthy merchant who became Lord Temper. It would take a fortune-teller to figure out why the hell Aerys needed me - to get another blade of Valyrian steel to wave in front of the nose of Tywin Lannister, who was tired of being outmaneuvered by Tywin Lannister.
Judging by the furrowed brow and the storm in his emerald eyes, the Great Lion did not like this move by his youthful friend very much. Neither did Prince Rhaegar, who performed an inter-world hand-face gesture and must be feeling Spanish shame for his dim-witted father.
«I'll ask you to stay here for a while. - Finally said the calmed Lannister, his tone showing that it was not a request but an order. - We will free the king quickly and punish the rebels. You won't be here long.
Realizing that my stay here was over, I quietly left the tent and went to the camp manager. I had to set up my tent and deal with the pile of problems that I was sure had arisen in my fiefdom. It would take the ravens almost three days to get back and forth, so the communication would be delayed, but it was at least some result.
"I hope it's resolved quickly," I thought as I headed off to Robin's to send the first letters. Work is not waiting.
***
279 A.D.
The main Loyalist camp, Twilight's Dold.
I was a little naive.
The siege of Twilight Dome has been going on for almost six months. And all because both sides couldn't give in to each other. But it was already clear that the situation was getting worse for the besieged, with starvation and the epidemic of Corpse Rash mowing the townsfolk down like grass. Denys Darklin himself tried several times to start peace talks, but Tywin demanded unconditional surrender with the immediate release of the king, for which he was naturally sent more than once to the most ugly places of the Seven Kingdoms by the besieged themselves. But his patience had come to an end - a few days ago he sent Lord Darkin a message threatening to storm the city and put to sword and fire all men, women and children inside the city walls.
He even sent his court minstrel as a parliamentarian and had him sing "Rhines of Castamere"-a tried-and-true way for him to remind rebellious lords of his uncompromising nature. I don't know why he was so offended by the poor singer, but the next day a body in his clothes appeared on the walls of the city, pockmarked with arrows like a needlepoint pillow.
The war councils I was invited to because of my newfound lord status were a complete circus. Lannister took full advantage of the fact that the troops and navy he had assembled were his own or directly subordinate to the royal family, and that because of this no one from the Small Council could say a word against him, he planned only to storm the city. He didn't even consider attempting a covert operation that one of the Royal Guards suggested to him. And when other courtiers criticized the plans for an assault, arguing the risk to the king, Tywin would point to Rhaegar standing in the corner and say, "Darklyn may or may not kill. And if he does, we have a better king right here."
Only the dumbest of the dumbest didn't realize that the Great Lion was provoking the Darklins to kill Aerys by every means possible. If that had happened, instead of a king who had already eaten through his head, Prince Rhaegar would have ascended the throne, and in "gratitude" for his ascension to the throne he would have been forced to marry Tywin's daughter and make her queen. It's a perfect setup. If I hadn't known about the lion's dislike of such subtle and complex intrigue, I might have thought it was he who'd provoked the Darklings into rebellion.
Now another round of this circ... council of war was ending, where they were making the final decision about the storming of the city.
«Your Highness, my Lord Hand. - Interrupted by one of the Kingsguard, the very one who had previously offered to sneak into the city. Barristan Selmy. Second in command among the white cloaks. - I believe it is dishonorable to storm the city without making at least one attempt to save the King without bloodshed. There are innocent women and children out there. You were with me on the Steps during the War of the Nine Thorn Kings. My Lord Hand, you know how much innocent blood is shed when armies fight. Let me try to save our sovereign quietly, without unnecessary bloodshed.
At once a loud clamor arose. The most foolish but noble supported the Royal Guardsman's idea of saving the king without bloodshed. The most foolish, but those who wanted the glory and gratitude of the Great Lion, began to resent and mock the old warrior, joking that "old age is no joy, so they use the methods of dirty thieves". Only the minority with any brains remained silent, looking intently at Tywin Lannister, who was staring at Selmy.
«Ser Barristan. - The Old Lion began in his usual commanding tone, shutting out the chatter with a single glance. - I agree with you wholeheartedly. But I cannot risk my men in this mad venture. Twilight Dol is crawling with angry and hungry guards who, if they catch a single intruder, will raise the alarm and kill them all. Let's storm the castle.
«Let me at least try. - Barristan said loudly, lowering his head and pounding his fist on the breastplate of his armor. - I will infiltrate the city myself and save our king. Just give me the chance.
As I watched Lannister stare thoughtfully at the Kingsguard, I realized he was at a crossroads. On the one hand, if he refuses, many will say in the future that Tywin Lannister didn't even try to save his king by throwing him to his death. That's a big reputational loss for the House of Lions. And on the other hand, if one of the most celebrated knights of the Seven Kingdoms dies on his orders, he won't get any good word of mouth either.
A dilemma.
«One Day. - Finally said the Old Lion, and with a spectacular wave of his cloak, headed out of the tent, only turning around at the end of the way. - I give you only one day, Ser Barristan. The day after tomorrow, in the afternoon, our troops will begin the assault on the city walls. If Aerys is not in camp by then, you have failed.
He left, ending the council of war with his departure. He was followed by all the lords of the West, and then all the members of the Small Council, all of whom, with the exception of Varys, had their own small retinue. Only I, Prince Rhaegar, and Ser Barristan remained in the tent.
«I wish you luck, Ser Barristan. - Targaryen approached the brooding knight and placed a hand on his shoulder. - I'm very sorry I can't go with you. They won't let me go.
«I understand, Your Highness. - Selmy replied, bowing his head slightly.
«May the Seven bless you. - Said the prince and left, leaving us alone with the royal guard.
«Did you have something to say, Lord Temper? - Selmy turned around and looked at me with an unreadable stare. You wouldn't believe he turned 42 this year. There's enough strength in that body for three good warriors, and if you think of his skill... They say that the unspoken rule for joining the Kingsguard is to be equal to thirty soldiers in battle. I don't know about all of them, but Erthur Dane, Herold Hightower, Lieven Martell, and Barristan Selmy have all passed it long ago. - If you need anything, speak now. I need to start preparations for a sortie as soon as possible.
«Unless... Let me join you. - I smiled as I watched the slightly confused expression on the white cloak's face.
"It's time for me to start my legend too
***
P.O.V. Third person.
Barristan Selmy has seen much in this life.
Born the first son of Ser Lionel Selmy, Lord of House Harvest, one of the many houses of the Dornish marks, he knew from a small age what he would be.
A knight.
A knight without fear or reproach, faithfully serving his monarch and punishing injustice for his sake. The White Cloak had been Dare's number one goal from the moment he learned of the Kingsguard.
His path has been long and harsh. At the age of ten, after taking his armor from Lord Dondarrion and his father's horse, he traveled to Black Haven and performed there as a mysterious knight in the Black Tournament. His strength then was barely enough to sit on his horse and hold his lance. He faced Prince Duncan Targaryen under the booing of the tournament participants and lost. But despite the nickname The Brave, which would follow him throughout his life, and thirty lashes from his angry father, Barristan did not give up and vowed that in five years he would take revenge for that loss.
And so he did. At the age of sixteen, grown and matured, Selmy once again appeared as a mysterious knight at a tournament in King's Landing, where he defeated both Prince Duncan and Ser Duncan the High, then Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. That day he was knighted by Aegon the Incredible himself, the greatest king he had ever known.
Unfortunately.
The rest of his life went on as normal. His resounding victories in all passing tournaments echoed throughout the Seven Kingdoms, during the War of the Nine-Great Kings he proved himself a fine warrior and commander, breaking through the Golden Swords and killing Maelys "Two-Headed" Blackfire, ending the male Blackfire line.
Finally, at the age of twenty-three, he was accepted into the Kingsguard, swearing his oaths before Ser Herold Hightower, and King Jayheiris the Wise bestowed upon him the white cloak.
Life was beautiful and consisted of one solid white stripe, the color of his guard cloak, but life does not like uniformity.
Jehaerys' son, Aerys, who should have inherited the best from his father and grandfather, got only looks from them, not backed by a strong mind. Being envious, lustful and cowardly, he epitomized all the vices of the Royal Family. Barristan, who saw the meaning of his life as serving the royal family, was pained to see the dynasty weakening. But oaths are as strong and unbreakable as tempered Valyrian steel.
And now, sitting in the tent of the newly minted Lord Temper, he tried once again to crush that overwhelming weight of guilt and regret that hung heavy on the heart of any Kingsguard.
"Failed, failed, failed to save, failed." - Once again the thought ran through Selmy's mind as he sipped from the proffered glass of wine without even tasting it. If he hadn't realized that the king's life depended on him now, he would have gone on a bender like Harlan Grandison had.
«Ser Barristan, come here. - The voice of the tent master snapped him out of his gloomy musings, forcing him to look up from the floor.
Felix Temper, yesterday's merchant and current Lord Vassal of some lands in Dorne, was standing with his hands on the table, scrutinizing something. Standing up and moving closer, Selmy realized it was a map. A map of Shadowdome. And a very old one at that.
«Why did you call me here? - Asked the royal guard to the boy. Yes, a boy who was old enough to be his son and not even a knight. If it weren't for his memories of breaking his nose at a tournament in Lannisport nearly seven years ago, and the smoothness of movement of any good warrior, Barristan wouldn't have listened to him.
«To consult and come up with a plan. - Said Temper, making small notes on a piece of paper. - You are an experienced knight who has been through more than one battle. Your experience will come in handy. You have ideas, don't you?
«I have a sketch of a plan. At night, at the hour of the wolf, we must climb the city wall and enter the city. There, change into the rags of a beggar. They are almost not followed, and it will be possible to approach the Twilight Fort without suspicion. After that, climb over the castle wall and free the king. Take a horse from the stables and ride to the wall. There Lord Tywin's archers will clear it of defenders, giving us safe passage to the camp. - Barristan said, pointing with his finger to the road and keeping his eyes on the map. When he looked up and saw the skepticism in his companion's eyes, he decided to add. - I've been to Twilight Fort before, and I know the layout of the castle.
«What makes you think its gates will be open? - Temper asked, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling of the tent.
«There is an old hoist on the gate. It is very difficult to use. That's why the Darklins leave them open. - Barristan answered, looking at the map again. It was very detailed, and even included a plan of the city's catacombs.
«Where did you get this map? - Losing his composure, Selmy shouted loudly, realizing perfectly well what treasure lay before him.
«It was sent to me by one of the Citadel's novices almost two weeks ago. - Temper answered, as if he had a piece of paper on his desk, not a detailed map of the besieged city, with all its secret passages and secrets.
«Where did the Citadel get it? - The royal guard, who was shaking with excitement, began to think up a new plan based on the new data.
«The Citadel's libraries hold all the original and copies of the maesters' works. - As a matter of course Felix said, taking a small sip from a nearby bowl of diluted wine. - Including architectural ones. And in them you can easily find plans of any castles built in the last five thousand years.
Barristan's mind almost went blank at the words he heard. So the Citadel and the Hightower have plans for every castle in Westeros. With all the weaknesses, secret passages, and defensive secrets. Although, wait...
«Twilight Fort is the fortress of the First Men. - It was built before the Citadel was built," Selmy said, mentioning the maester who had served in the House of Harvest and who had taught him the history of most of the castles of the Seven Kingdoms.
«For someone who wasn't trained at the Citadel, you have very good knowledge, Ser Barristan. You're right, there is one hitch. - Temper replied in surprise, pointing a finger at the top corner of the map. There was a very worn four-digit number, which on closer inspection turned out to be 1329. - That's a very old story. One thousand three hundred and twenty-nine years from the accession of the Hoars. Two years before that, Twilight Fort had been taken by the Ironborn and almost completely destroyed. Because of this, it was completely restored, leaving behind this map, which I barely managed to find. Luckily maps like this are quite rare, otherwise White Beacon would have had most of the continent by the throat long ago.
«Why?
«Almost all the major castles were built before the Andals arrived. They were simply restored and completed later, without the involvement of maesters. So there are no plans for most of the castles in the Citadel. - Said Temper, running his finger over the area with the old Bogorosha, where one of the old secret passages ran. - The exceptions are Staromest, Highgarden, White Harbor, Harrenhal, Eagle's Nest, and King's Landing. At least, they're the only ones I know of.
«Then that changes our plans drastically.'' - Selmy said with a smile. Just now, his chances of saving his king and clearing the name of the royal guard had skyrocketed, giving not just hope for a successful outcome, but confidence. Confidence that they would succeed. A smile appeared on his face. - Shall we proceed with the plan, then, Lord Temper?
«Of course, Ser Barristan.
***
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