Picking Up the Pieces
Twenty-Eight Day of the Second Month 293 AC
In your opinion, and not wholly uninformed at that thanks to the meandering paths your dreams oft take, the bedroom of the former Archon of Tyrosh is a disproportionate waste of space and gods only know how much work for craftsmen of all sorts, from glaziers to carpenters to masons. It would perhaps make a decent music room given the way it echoes back the none-too-kingly groans with which you greet the day with. Still, much as you miss your familiar, and sanely proportioned, bed in the Deep, Tyrosh is still far too volatile to 'abandon'. Most of the would-be rebels do not yet understand the implications of being able to cross the distance in between in a single step and the city has seen more than enough bloodshed.
"What time is it?" Lya asks sleepily as you wake.
"Late enough that I sincerely dread the servants are going to burst in here to dress us, regardless of previous orders," you reply only half in jest. For some utterly insane reason there was a long and convoluted ritual in dressing and undressing the lord of the city, with each task jealously guarded by the servant assigned to it. You suppose the fact that they were all free servants and never slaves must have also been a mark of prestige.
"Not me," your love replies smugly as she rolls out of bed. "You are the archon, I'm just... How did they put it...? 'The consort'. A nicer name than most of the magisters are calling me behind closed doors to judge from some of the looks I got."
"You are not...?" you begin worriedly.
"Offended?" She shakes her head with a smile. "Far from it. The more they discount me the fewer sycophants I'll draw. Much like over-officious servants, I've no wish for their company."
You sigh dramatically. "No sympathy for me that I should have to endure their presence..."
"I'm sure you will find some way to make their lives interesting in turn," Lya replies. In that prediction she is not wrong.
***
The news from the outlands is good, perhaps a little too good in some ways. Seven of the eight tributary cities gave in as soon as they spotted a dragon in the sky, with the last being cowed by carefully escalating destruction, culminating in burning down the manse of the local governor, all without a single life lost thanks to Dany giving warning each time... far more warnings that you would have given, truth be told, even if it were not for the promise you made to Rhango.
At the day's end you could hardly expect Dany, Waymar, or even Tyene to place the glory of Dothraki above the lives of the local populace, and it can only be counted a good thing that Amrelath's judgement was not used or else all that would have remained of Therys would have been cooked bones and cooling ashes.
As for Tyrosh itself, it has proven to be surprisingly quiet with neither looters nor any of the surviving otherworldly horrors making an appearance at least as far as you know. Of course, given the tangle of the slums and relative scarcity of soldiers you trust to patrol the streets in small groups without becoming part of the problem as opposed to the solution, that is not saying much. You need more recruits for the Legion, rather urgently, preferably ones that are not holding a weapon for the first time in their lives according to both Ser Gerold and Malarys, the latter of which who is currently in charge of the non-existent lawmen of Tyrosh.
In the mage-priest's own words one could strip the lawmen of the Deep to the bone and not make a dent in what Tyrosh needs. He does, however grudgingly, agree that the former guardsmen, or even some of the sellswords are no worse in character than the mostly reformed thugs, thieves, and killers that still make up the backbone of the Sorcerer Deep's lawmen.
Tapping your fingers against the desk you consider your options. The locals have the advantage of ruffling fewer feathers but also might serve other masters also, particularly the magisters whom you do not trust any further than Varys can throw them. The sellswords have the advantage of some actual discipline drilled into their heads, assuming you can actually tempt the companies to disband and settle, a nigh-impossible task for the Second Sons with their proud heritage, but some of the others might accept.
What fate do you assign the briefly defiant town of Therys?
[] Confiscate the estates of the reigning family, place another local noble in charge
[] Confiscate the estates of all local families, place an administrator in charge
[] Write in
Where do you get lawmen for Tyrosh?
[] The disbanded local guardsmen
[] Some of the smaller mercenary companies
-[] Write in recruiting offer
[] Wait for recruits to be trained up from scratch
[] Write in
OOC: If you want to cover some other 'clean up' actions you can certainly add them in.
