Under the Eagle Banner, an ASOIAF ISOT Story

[StormKingWit]

I was raised Christian. It took me a while to realise that was the sign of the cross. Gods it's been a while.

Click to shrink...

Admittedly, most people in the West do it the other way (left to right), as it is the way Latin-Rite Catholicism has been doing it for some time.

 

[StormKingWit]

November 4, 1453

The Previous day had been spent mostly in feasts and introductions. And Rhaenys could see that there were some divisions in the city. It appeared as if most of the people were in agreement with one Father Theodoros on a religious dispute, and she could see that their ruler had not taken a clear side because he could not afford to alienate entirely the opposite faction, led by one Isidore. The Basileus had ensured that both men were present, and she could see the reason behind it, after all, better to have them watched at all times.

Still, she was here to find a way to deal with this city, and for all of Orys' frustration, Rhaenys couldn't bring herself to care so long as the matter was solved. Thus, on her first morning in Constantinople, she found herself meeting with the Basileus and his aide.

"I must ask, what kind of treaty would be... acceptable, to the Romans," Of course, there was one thing that she had noticed very clearly throughout the previous night. While the rule of the Basileus was effectively as absolute as that of any King, the custom of this city seemed to be that its inhabitants were taken into consideration.

If she knew the history behind it, she might have understood that better that morning.

The older man seemed to sigh, and she heard him say something in their tongue, his aide seemed to hesitate slightly, but he remained there

"I must explain first, what does it mean to rule my people, as perhaps that may help you see my proposal for what it is, instead of a threat, which your previous envoy seemed to believe." the Basileus told her in High Andal, quite accented but adequate to make himself understood. "I am afraid that I must tell the story in the Hellenic tongue, much of it... I am not versed enough in other tongues to make justice of it."

With a nod, Rhaenys Targaryen looked at the older man, who thanked her before starting.

"We Romans are not like the inhabitants of these lands outside our wall. Among the Kingdoms that are being subdued by His Grace your Brother, the King rules and his word is absolute law, at least as far as it can be enforced. And while most Kings will have to think of their houses, and have a... duty, to the deity they worship," And Rhaenys, despite not being too aware of Religion, was curious to notice that the Basileus seemed to be somewhat familiar with the Faith of the Seven, by that small comment, "They have little in the way of restraints placed upon them."

He took a sip of his wine, before continuing. And Rhaenys took a sip of hers.

"Us Romans are not ruled by a King. And while my title, Autokrator," She noticed the aide pause for a moment before saying the word in the local language, "means Sole Ruler, and I am not bound entirely by the Laws that I proclaim and overturn, I am bound by a greater law, for I must act in the best interests of the politeia,"

She had heard that last word several times, it was never translated, but from what she had figured, it must have been one of the words in their language for realm, or rather, for their own realm.

"Then," She told him, her voice soft and kind, "You must see that yielding your Crown is such an action."

The Basileus, denied with his head slowly, suddenly he seemed so tired.

"Would it? If your Dragons had come to Constantinople before we were besieged, and demanded the City and the Crown, the people of The City would have gladly risen in your favour, for many would have rather lived under the Sultan, or any foreign ruler, than under the Latins with whom I had to deal. But now that the fear of Latin dominance is no longer present," Admittedly, he had seen to that, "I fear that The City and its people would not accept such a thing. When I warned your previous envoy, he took it as a threat, but it was none of the sort. It is as true as to say that the fish swim in the ocean, that the People of Rome must consent to be ruled, or else none can rule them."

"And yet," Rhaenys spoke, her voice remaining soft all the while, "You claim that you seek a solution to such a... conundrum."

"I do, even I know that the Walls of Theodosius cannot protect us when you can fly above them and burn the city to the ground. And make no mistake, such would be the result if I were to just give up my title to your Brother, for as soon as they have turned their gaze, The City would rise..."

"And yet, you pay tribute to Lord Gardener." After all, Mern Gardener was no longer King of the Reach, but instead Lord of Highgarden, Warden of the South and High Marshal of the Reach.

"I do, but Rome owes him no fealty." the Basileus continued, "The people of Rome will not accept owing fealty to a foreign ruler in the same way the Andals do, even if foolhardy, we would not be Romans if we did... But, should King Aegon come to Constantinople, and accept a crown... Joint rule is an ancient custom of Rome, dating to ancient times after all. If need be, then your brother the King, and his descendants, shall be the senior rulers. They will have to be crowned in The City, but then they will have gained the loyalty of its people."

"I cannot promise you that my brother will accept such an arrangement." Rhaenys commented. Of course, Lord Gardener had already stated that he intended to swear fealty, and she could he that he didn't seem too bothered -even if some of his vassals were- But this was different.

She saw the Basileus nod, and then he spoke once more.

"Then I must ask that you counsel him to accept. Make no mistake, Your Grace, if he wishes to have the city for himself, and absorb Rome without regard for her traditions, then regardless of how much I may desire for this matter to be solved peacefully, the People of Rome will demand that I stand up to him, as we did against Sultan Mehmed. I hold no illusions that we will be delivered once more in the same fashion, but after so blatant a miracle, my people would not surrender even if I ordered them to... But, if he is willing to respect the traditions of Rome, and defend her against those that would force its people into the servitude of a ruler that they know not, then he shall have the undying loyalty of its people."

Rhaenys nodded at his words, if anything, she decided that it would be a shame that what she'd seen here, the bards and the mosaics, were lost.

Spoiler: Author's Note

And here's a meeting. The dice still favour our plucky Romans, admittedly, this would probably not have worked on Visenya. So their previous roll really helped here. Not to mention, this is Constantine XI, a man who had to deal with the Pope, the KIng of Epirus, and the Ottomans, on multiple times, to preserve the Empire. That he finally failed says less than the fact that he managed to hold things together until a Sultan that could not be bargained with (Mehmed II) came to power.

 

[StormKingWit]

November 6, 1453

There had not been much in the way of talks the previous day. She had the basic terms on which the Basileus would submit. She was already dreading what would be of Dorne -thankfully, her brother had not decided on a course of action regarding that land- however, arriving at a peaceful agreement with these Romans, even if their realm was limited to the walls of Constantinople, might make the Dornish more agreeable...

By her third day in The City, Rhaenys had made her mind. Still, she had more than a week left before needing to return to her siblings. And she intended to make use of it.

The locals were cautious, yet curious when it came to Meraxes, it helped that the large silver dragon was a rather lazy beast when she was not on her back. The previous morning, she had drawn a small crowd to the harbor when she took off, and her laps around the city seemed to get their attention even more. This morning had been the same, but for all and the apparent... association of Dragons with monsters, the fact that it was clear that Meraxes was well under her control -or at least as much as anyone could control a Dragon- seemed to sate them.

Once that was done, she sought out a person.

Theophilos, a distant relation to the Basileus, was a kind man, and one of the local scholars. She had heard some call him polymathes, and not only was he decently fluent in the High Andal tongue, but he also seemed to be starting to learn High Valyrian.

He was also someone that was both, trusted by the Basileus, and who knew not just of what was happening in The City, but of its history, and that of its people.

Her meager observations seemed to confirm the words of the Basileus, as it was clear that the locals were still in high spirits. Of course, she was not going to ask random people on the street about such sensitive matters, but she did not need to do so, to figure out that they would not submit if their leaders were removed or replaced...

"Your Grace?" the younger of the Palaiologoi greeted her, standing from his seat by the window of a smaller room in the Palace of Blachernae, and bowing.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The Armies of the North had made it as far as being within sight of Riverrun, but their King did not intend to march them to burn.

Torrhen Stark, King of Winter, ordered his army to remain encamped, and had an envoy sent to House Tully with a simple goal. Discover whether or not the King of the Rock, or his heir, had bent to the Targaryens. He had been told by Lord Blackwood, who rode to meet him when he passed through his lands, that King Mern of the Reach would likely bend the knee, and he knew already that neither Harren the Black, nor Argilac Durrandon had been able to stop Aegon Targaryen when he commanded but his three dragons and the meager armies of Dragonstone and its vassals.

Now that he would also be able to call upon the riverlords, and the Reach? Such an army could be broken at The Neck, and its tattered remains would be defeated at Moat Cailin, such had been the fate of many a would-be conqueror in the North. But Dragons changed everything. His scouts had informed King Torrhen of the devastation of Harrenhal, and if such a monstrosity was burnt down by Aegon Targaryen, Moat Cailin would not hold him for long.

The envoy had yet to return from the grounds of Riverrun, when a dragon, large and black, landed outside of the camp, and knowing what it meant, Torrhen Stark rode out, giving orders that only two of his guards were to follow him.

With the Dragon-riders not gathered in a single place, from what he'd heard, his half-brother's plan was even more foolish. Thus, Torrhen Stark rode to meet with the Valyrian.

Perhaps, he figured, this would give the North some advantage, when it came to dealing with the Arryns.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Ser Robert Flowers, Grand Captain of the Warrior's Sons was not in a good mood.

"Gods damn those addled fools," He muttered. There had been an incident at the harbor, one that involved several of his sworn brothers and some traders from this Constantinople. Ser Olyvar had always been a zealot, to the point where his righteous zeal for The Seven was... uncomfortable, even for many of his sworn brothers. Until today, however, that had not been an issue.

Then, of course, he had gotten the idea that a group of Roman merchants that were unloading their wares were trying to pervert the people of Oldtown away from the Seven.

Ser Olyvar, had been quite malcontent for the last moon or two. What with King Mern first giving his daughter to the ruler of that heathen city for his bride, and then with his bending the knee to the Targaryens.

Normally this incident would not be too much of an issue. Some form of recompense would be given, should the Romans request it. Ser Olyvar... had not survived the experience, as it seemed that some of those sailors had seen fighting before, and one of them had on his person a dagger that was perfect to pierce through the mail that protected Ser Olyvar.

The problem, was that a recently-knighted new member of their order had been quite wounded, and the Maester was sure that he'd become a cripple.

Said new sworn-brother, happened to be one Jason Hightower, third son of Lord Manfred.

"Ser Alyn, gather the council, and see if the High Septon is available... We are in need of his guidance, and we will need to decide what course to take soon."

The younger knight, who acted as his aide, nodded and left in a hurry, leaving Ser Olyvar alone. With a weary sigh the Grand Captain of the Warrior's Sons stood up.

Hopefully this didn't mean that there was unrest in the ranks. This motley crew of zealots, second and further sons, bastards, and other misfits with a knightly title and training, was a hard bunch to lead, and with all that was happening...

Ser Olyvar decided that he'd think about it if it came to it.

 

[StormKingWit]

November 9, 1453

Twenty galleys sat at the mouth of the Whispering Sound. Two of them were crewed by some of the Poor Fellows, who counted with some sailors in their numbers.

Over the last few months, the Romans had begun to send traders to other lands, offering silk. Apparently they were able to produce the expensive fabric, and while the quality was not equal to that of the Yi-Tish silk, and their production was still in small quantities, it was still fine and expensive. Lord Manfred had even planned to hire some of their artisans, as with the repairs to their formidable walls done, and most of their buildings rebuilt or repaired after their siege, there was a decent amount of experienced men seeking work.

These plans had died with the fighting at the port. While neither the High Septon, nor Lord Manfred had agreed with the more zealous leader of the Faith Militant in Oldtown -Commander Lucifer, of the Poor Fellows' chapter in the city had wanted to raze the city to the ground, then again, he often wanted to remove the temples that foreign merchants used- However Lord Manfred did insist in some form of recompense.

Damon thought that this was not a good idea. Surely the King would object -not that Damon was aware of the submission of King Mern just yet- However, here they were, denying pass in and out of the Sonund to any Roman vessel or any vessel headed for The City.

"This is a bad idea," Damon muttered as he climbed up the mast to replace the lookout, a frown on his face.

When he saw a Dragon, flying towards the mouth of the Sound, he resigned himself to his end, which did not come, not yet.

The Silver dragon flew past the mouth of the Whispering sound, and he could barely see it turning north and west.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

November 15, 1453

"Is your Lord demanding recompense for the fact that Roman Merchants defended themselves!?" This... Constantine figured that this was sheer madness. Even the envoy of Lord Hightower admitted that the Warrior's Sons had started the fight. What were the Romans supposed to do, let themselves be martyred by four fools that were arrogant enough to think that they could take on ten foes?

"Your Majesty, Lord Hightower demands recompense for his son, he was maimed, losing the use of his sword hand," Cutting the man off, Constantine stood from the chair that served as his throne in Blachernae.

"Lord Hightower, as far as I know, should be aware of what happened even with more detail than myself, and I have heard the witness of the sailors in question, save for one whom they claim was taken hostage by the guards of Oldtown. I ask again, Ser," The Emperor was not yelling, his voice remained even, despite the clear anger in his features, "Are Roman sailors and traders supposed to just allow themselves to be subject to the depredations of any local who feels like taking their wares or their lives in Oldtown?"

This had been a frustrating day. Two Roman ships had been forced to turn back, and a third one boarded and seized at the mouth of the Sound over the last week. This had also hurt their fishermen, although those were more capable of sneaking out from the sound. Thankfully, the City was not at risk of starvation, but this was a hostile action that Constantine could not let go.

"Your Majesty," The envoy spoke, "We only wish to conclude this matter soon, and the honor of House Hightower-" Once more, the Emperor cut him off.

"The Honor of House Hightower, is besmirched by their own actions." Constantine spoke. "Return to Lord Manfred, and inform him that we owe him no recompense, nor do we owe him any tribute. Andreas, see that Ser Lymond makes it safely to the Gates."

Ravens, Constantine had discovered, were an extremely fast method of sending word across the land. It was ludicrous, for Ravens in Europe were nowhere near this fast, or docile. Still, here they were.

Admittedly, the Maester had been baffled by the messenger doves, as apparently the doves and pigeons in this land were less docile than the ones in Europe.

As soon as he had discovered that Lord Hightower had sent ships to blockade the city, he had sent word to King -or rather Lord- Mern.

Unlike when facing the Turk, he knew that all that was needed, was to wait, before some form of help would arrive.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I still say we ought to conquer the city by force, Even without Dragons, they could not resist the armies you command." Orys said with a frown on his face. "That they offer something like this is insane, and that they threaten us with oath-breaking even more so."

"It would be a waste, and it would make things harder. Burn the City, and it will be known that we are merciless beasts that would rather have the world burn, so long as we rule over the ashes." Rhaenys countered, "If we act fast, we may even convince them to accept better terms. As I flew out of the city I saw ships taking place outside of the Whispering Sound, ships bearing Hightower colors... There is only one thing they could be blockading in the Sound that is not Oldtown itself."

"So you think that Lord Hightower would besiege this city? What for? And how do we know if they even can hold out?" Visenya seemed to be giving serious thought to the matter. Aegon could see where this was going, and he was fairly sure that Visenya could also see what their younger sister was implying.

"Their walls are like the walls of Qarth, and they can hold for more than a moon, the fact that they have farmland within the walls also helps them to resist a siege. Should we arrive, and break such a siege and such a blockade, they may be convinced to bend the knee on better terms than the ones their ruler told me."

Having received the submissions of Lord Reyne -as regent for the boy in Casterly Rock- and of Torrhen Stark, now Warden of the North, there were only two Kingdoms left.

If this could speed things up, then so be it.

"Orys, lead the hosts back to the Blackwater, the three of us shall Fly to this City, and after that, we will have to deal with Dorne and with the Arryns." Aegon said after some thought.

Spoiler: Author's Note:

So, here we are. The rolls that were coming out for both, Lord Manfred and the High Septon were really low, and the ones for Constantinople itself kinda mediocre this time around, while the rolls for Aegon Targaryen were pretty good for once. Sadly, the actions suggested by the lowest rolls would have been out of character for Lord Manfred, or for this current High Septon, so instead a blockade of sorts at the mouth of the Whispering Sound has come. Incidentally, while the Targaryens are reading things a bit wrong, they might just be right where it matters, but not as much as they'd wish.

 

[Arimai]

They really don't understand the Roman mindset at all. Especially if they think breaking the siege will cause Roman's to abandon a thousand years of laws and customs.

 

[StormKingWit]

November 23

Now that he flew lower, he saw the city more properly. There were many buildings in construction or being repaired, and he could see that the harbor was bustling with small boats, from what Rhaenys had told him, the locals relied greatly on fish, and the Whispering sound, at the mouth of the Honeywine, was filled with fish.

Still, the larger ships were on the harbor, clearly stuck there. And so, led by Rhaenys, he and Visenya flew towards the Palace, in the process seeing that one of their temples seemed to be being built, or rather rebuilt, as Rhaenys had confirmed.

Landing on an area large enough that they found, it was clear that they had startled the guards, but still, they were met by a small group.

The plan, of course, was simple, offer aid, greet this Basileus, and then explain the conditions for this aid...

As he dismounted from Balerion, and his sisters dismounted from their dragons, he saw the men coming to them. Most likely household guards of this ruler.

Aegon could see that the Palace was very close to a portion of the walls, and he figured that it was why the Basileus had it as his residence. As they were led into the complex, he made note of the city, and figured that he might request their aid, after all, such a realm as the one he was building, required a true city as its beating heart.

Even if several structures, including a strange elliptical one near what had to be the center of the city, were clearly still in disrepair, these people seemed to know their way around such a business.

He also made note of the palace that they were in. Where other rulers had tried to awe him into submission -not that such tactics worked against the Last of the Dragonriders as some had taken to call him- the Palace of Blachernae still seemed somewhat bare of great luxuries. The Household guard of the ruler was also not making as much of a show of force as he had seen other rulers make.

And yet, from what Rhaenys and Orys both said -and perhaps the only thing they had agreed on-, their ruler would only submit on his own terms.

Upon their arrival at the room where this Basileus sat, Aegon gave a small bow. He had, after all, not yet submitted, he was still a foreign ruler, an equal, if in name at least.

"You have given my people quite a scare, Your Grace." Aegon heard the man speak, his dark eyes seeming weary as he stood. "But I suppose that you have come here to speak, else I doubt I would have seen your face at all."

So the man was indeed aware of what Dragons could do.

"I come to speak, Your Majesty, and to offer my aid against the blockade that Lord Hightower has imposed upon you and your city." Aegon told him in reply, seeing how the man seemed to frown.

"Yes, to offer aid, and demand a price. Let us speak clearly here, Your Grace," The Basileus did not seem hostile, although it was clear that he was unhappy about this. "You believe, rightly or wrongly, that the Romans would throw themselves at your feet if you were to put an end to the blockade. Perhaps if outside of these walls stood Mehmed, Sultan of the Turks, you would be correct... And so I must ask, if you intend to truly hold and rule the Romans, or simply to conquer, sack and pillage."

Those last words confused Aegon, he could see Visenya bristling, furious. Rhaenys seemed deep in thought. For all that Visenya was more even-tempered and some would say more intelligent, she was also more... attached to the ancient words and ancient customs of their old homeland. Valyrians had been widely known for their arrogance, and he could see that his sister seemed offended by this. However, she did not speak.

"Can you hold land with a Dragon? Or is it just that you can burn those that hold the land should they not do your will?"

For a brief moment, Aegon thought that a fight would break out. Visenya's hand reached down, dangerously close to Dark Sister, and it was clear that the guards could see it as well, as they seemed to shift in stance, just waiting.

Not being mounted on their dragons, Aegon knew better than to let such a fight start.

"And what would you suggest instead?" He asked the Basileus, who did not even seem to react, beyond his own hand approaching the hilt of his sword.

"In ancient times, Diocletian had the Empire divided, appointing three rulers junior to himself so they would each oversee a portion of the Empire, each with the same authority within each part, but all subject to the laws of the Greater Emperor... It is clear, that you are the greater ruler, having conquered the entire landmass behind these walls. But the people of Rome are unlikely to allow you to hold the city if you were to treat them as equals to the Andals that you have subdued. Let us keep our laws and customs, as you have not imposed those of Valyria upon the Andals either."

"You propose a similar arrangement?" Aegon could see where this was going. "You seem... uninterested in lording upon Andals."

"You misunderstand, King Aegon," The Basileus spoke, "In many an occasion after that, the Empire found itself with two rulers, but without the land being divided. Two men can hold the title of Basileus, it is an ancient if somewhat forgotten custom. Only one, however, can be called Autokrator, it is this title that I will yield, for it is the most that I can yield without having the people of Rome rising in revolt against the both of us."

It was at that point that a servant came into the room, bread and salt on a tray, and Aegon could see how close they had been to disaster. He was yielding his crown in a sense. Of two titles, he was yielding the greater one, and asking to retain the lesser.

"My sisters are Queens, not just as consorts, but in their own right as well, for they ride by my side and without them, it would have been much harder to strike at our foes." He commented, taking bread and salt, both Rhaenys and Visenya doing the same soon enough. "Would you presume to not render them due honor."

It was clear that the priest present in the room had... similar opinions on the marriage to the Basileus, and he even said something to him. But the other ruler nodded.

"Only one may hold the title of Autokrator, such is our custom and our law, but it is not unheard for women to have ruled upon Rome, even if it is not common."

Visenya still seemed annoyed, even though it was clear that she had regained control of her anger. Rhaenys, as always, seemed more curious than anything.

Aegon, for his own part, was satisfied.

Spoiler: Author's Note:

And whew, that was close. The rolls for both, Aegon and Constantine, were high (18 and 22 respectively when using 4 regular dice). I was going to roll for the Hightowers AND the Gardeners here as well, but I will roll and write for them tomorrow.

 

[StormKingWit]

Note: Galata was not brought along. Rhaenys' first trip saw her arrive at the Neorion Harbour

 

[xThomas2]

Spoiler: re:a/n

didn't even realize you were rolling till now. Trying to think what would have happened in the event of bad diplomatic rolls, probably Constantinople burns, or maybe gets outright conquered and made the new capital like Istanbul. Long term, roll for tech spread (gunpowder, any other medieval technologies the Romans held at that point).

 

[StormKingWit]

Spoiler: Author's Note:

This is a bit of a winding down chapter, there will be a timeskip next up, so we'll see what happens next. If it feels a bit all over the place, then yes, it kind of is all over the place.

December 5th, 1453

Manfred knew better than to try anything. It was, after all, the High Septon himself who had confirmed that this crowning was the will of the Gods.

Still, as the crown, a circlet of Valyrian Steel with rubies in it, was placed on Aegon Targaryen's brow, already anointed with the seven oils that had been used to anoint the Kings of the Reach before him, Lord Manfred Hightower was clearly not satisfied.

The new King swore oaths, and Manfred tried not to think about what had happened.

The Blockade had been withdrawn of course, it had been the King's order, and while Commander Lucifer grumbled, the Faith Militant complied as did Manfred. There was simply not enough to gain from the whole matter, and thus he was to let it lie.

At the end of it all, no land had been exchanged, and no gold had changed hands either. A terrible waste that Manfred already regretted taking part in... He had no way to know what would come out of that waste.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

January 20th, 1454

The submission of the Regent of the Vale had been received by Visenya on the new year.

Only Dorne remained, but the Dornish had been... particularly stubborn. Aegon however, was well aware that it was a war they were not ready for. After all, many times the Storm Kings and the Kings of the Reach had sought to subdue parts or all of Dorne, even before the landing of the Rhoynar. Every single time their armies had eventually overwhelmed the defenders with numbers, only to find themselves having to put down uprisings by very well armed smallfolk -then again, save for those directly on the banks of the Torrentine or the Greenblood, most Dornish smallfolk lived in a far more... itinerant and almost tribal way than their counterparts north and west of the Red Mountains[1]-

As such, Even with Balerion, and with his queens and their dragons, Aegon was not entirely confident on invading Dorne just yet. The realm needed to start coming together after all.

That brought him back to what Rhaenys was saying.

"I can see your point," Aegon conceded, after all, Mern Gardener had ridden south with some of his household guard to demand an... explanation from Lord Hightower during that whole situation with the Romans, in no small part because his sister was married to their ruler.

"And the Andals themselves have been doing it for thousands of years, sure, the ties last at most two generations, but that's good enough, it gives us time to do more," Rhaenys added, a small and rather satisfied smile on her lips.

"That it does... I suppose you have been giving the matter some more thought."

Rhaenys, after all, was the more well-liked of them. And Aegon knew that it could easily be explained. After all, Visenya was stern and unforgiving. She was also quick to anger, even if normally she was able to keep her anger down and not let it consume her... Rhaenys on the other hand was kind, curious, and as impulsive as she was, she had great charm.

This had also been helped by her trips on dragonback through the realm. While she had yet to fly to Winterfell, she had visited various other houses.

"I have, the first order of business would be to end any of the long-standing feuds, thankfully, the only such feud among Great Houses would be between Houses Stark and Arryn."

"And you intend to use a marriage between the houses, two if possible, to at least put their quarrelling on hold until we can... deal with the causes." Of course, a large part of that came about the Isles in the Bite.

"Yes, a betrothal or two as well, Orys did have a son recently after all..."

"Yes," Aegon agreed, "But Orys will likely prefer matches within the Stormlands, he intends on ensuring their loyalty, rather than simple begrudging compliance with their oaths."

More would be talked about that matter, relatively little was decided that day. At least on Rhaenys' idea

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I do not see why ought we to build such structures when we have the Blackwater Rush." Theophilos heard one of the Narrow Sea nobles that were in this task, his name was not quite memorable, but he was of House Celtigar.

"And rivers, when they run through a city, get polluted, their water dirty and not fit to drink or water anything. By building these," He motioned towards the drawings of the aqueduct, "The City that the King intends to have around his new seat will have a supply of fresh water, untainted by the... normal corruption that comes from having so much people gathered in a single place."

"Aye, it sounds fine until you need to survive a siege," Chimed in Ser Robyn, the brother of the Lord of Duskendale was also part of the project, as he had earned a link or two in the citadel that were related. "Any besieging army will tear down the structure, and with it goes the supply of water."

"Which is why we build cisterns. I have shown you the disposition of the cisterns of Constantinople," Theophilos countered, "If we build a few cisterns on certain locations, and build them large enough, the city will have fresh water for months, even if there is an army outside disrupting the supply."

"It makes sense," Spoke, with some reluctance, Maester Tybolt, "I still believe it to not be entirely necessary in this location, the structures I mean, but if we use them to supply water to these cisterns, they might be justified."

It would take several days for the men to come to some agreement. Of course, while the Romans were... suffering from lack of practice in the building of such wonders, the methods had been put on paper centuries ago. Some of those papers still existed.

There was much work to do, thankfully, as The year 1454 after the birth of Christ got started, it seemed that there would be time and resources for it.

[1] Some worldbuilding. A Traditional Feudal Society doesn't work well in the Desert. While the farming communities in the Torrentine, or on the banks of the Greenblood might have it, most of Dorne should look more like the Maghreb in terms of how do the people live. It might also help explain how did the Dornish manage to survive Aegon's wrath, at least to an extent. The Armies being lost in the sands and two Dragons not being enough to catch every Dornish gathering on every well and oasis...

 

[StormKingWit]

Spoiler: Author's Notes:

Somehow, I had forgotten that the Byzantine New Year was not on January 1st, but on September 1st

King's Landing, August 12, 1461

The fort that stood upon the High Hill in the mouth of the Blackwater Rush was no longer a mere wooden fort, but a stone fort. It was still, as far as the seats of Westerosi rulers, fairly unimpressive -even if the massive Iron Throne was impressive in itself-.

The city that had formed around it, however, was very different from the chaotic mess of wooden and stone structures that had been here during Aegon's campaigns.

There were paved streets that reached as far as the first of the three wall systems. With the idea to build a second set of districts between the inner and middle walls, and the space between the middle and outer walls being left for the time being. There were three great cisterns -two of them underground- and there was a short aqueduct -the construction of which had been... complicated- that brought fresh water to the cisterns as fast as the water from said cisterns was being consumed. There was a... rudimentary plumbing system -then again, large parts of Constantinople had rudimentary plumbing when compared to what had once existed, two centuries of unmitigated disaster after disaster tend to do that- and while many a building was made in brick and mortar, some were still a fire hazard -which was something that even the First Rome was not immune to, as he had read in old tomes from the days of Claudius that the insulae that most poor Romans lived in at the time were indeed fire hazards despite having a structure made of brick-.

Still, when compared to the other Westerosi settlements that could be called cities -and Theophilos had been to various of them as part of the King's entourage-, it was already impressive.

Officially, Theophilos was not part of the King's Small Council. In practice however, his status as the Megas Domestikos, which over the last seven[1] years came to mean the liaison between Constantinople and King's Landing -which was still the highest title among the Romans not awarded to one of the Imperial family proper-, had him sitting in such meetings more often than not.

"They have refused every offer made over the last five years," Said the Hand of the King with a frown, "And the damn raiders keep crossing the Red Mountains. I say it is time to strike already, if the banners are called, we will have more than enough troops to deal with the Dornish once and for all."

Theophilos had to admit that, for all that the man had proven himself a brute in Constantinople, he respected Orys Baratheon. He didn't like him of course, but the respect was there.

"The Royal Coffers can sustain such an effort," Lord Celtigar, the old Master of Coin spoke, stroking his short white beard.

"We would do well to remember that the Dornish are quite stubborn," The young Lord of the Tides, and Master of Ships added, "They might... fail to notice their defeat, and while we could crush them regardless, it would cost us men and gold better spent elsewhere if that is the case."

Theophilos watched as the gathering came and went. He had... read several things about the Dornish, and there were some traders from Starfall and Sunspear who every now and then visited Constantnople -the lack of a history between the Romans and the Dornish helped matters there for sure- but he figured that the Andals would get their war.

If anything, the situation with the Red Mountains reminded him greatly of what had, centuries earlier, been the borderlands of the Empire on the mountains of distant Cilicia, back in the day of Digenes Akritas and before the Seljuk and the Crusaders had brought it all tumbling down.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Constantinople

"This won't end well," Constantine commented rather nonchalantly at the parchment on his hands.

Over the last few years, Rhaenys Targaryen had, with the permission of King Aegon, gotten into her head to use marriages to link the nobility of Westeros... Of course, he had expected her not to plan much out of Rome -especially after Theophilos had not only been assigned to remain with Aegon Targaryen's court, but wound up married with a lady from one of the houses near the Royal Court-

Of course, he also knew that there was little to no choice other than marrying a non-Roman, not only for himself, but for any member of his dynasty in the foreseeable future. The Roman nobility had been decimated before the siege anyway, and the majority of the remaining nobility had not been in the City but in the Morea. Still, it was... rare... especially in recent times, for such marriages not to bring disaster to the Empire in one way or another.

This was particularly worrying as apparently Rhaenys Targaryen figured that the best way to tie the Palaiologoi into the sprawling realm conquered by Aegon Targaryen was to have them marry as close as possible to the Targaryen line... Of course, the only child of the King -and only Targaryen Child- was Prince Aenys, and it was already promised that he was to marry a daughter of the Lord of the Tides. That much the realm had known for three months.

Lady Velaryon however had given birth, and the result had been twin girls[2]... From Theophilos' letters, it appeared that the youngest of the sisters had met some resistance from her eldest sister, but in the end she had convinced Aegon Targaryen. And so, his three-year old heir, little Ioannes, was, by decree of the Autokrator, to marry Valaena Velaryon. While the girl's twin, Alyssa, was to marry Prince Aenys.

Constantine knew that he would most likely not be alive to see his heir married. He was fifty already, and while the last years had seen him under much less stress than that hellish year of preparations, and then fifty days of siege, it had all taken a toll on him regardless.

And of course, there were also other news. Aegon Targaryen wanted to invade Dorne. And he planned to have what little troops The City could muster to join in such a conflict.

"At least we are alive to complain," He said, putting the parchments away and standing up.

It had been almost eight years, but perhaps, he figured, he could still get some use of Orhan and his troublemaking Turks.



[1] Theophilos being named Megas Domestikos in 1454
[2] First confirmed birth butterfly that is not directly related to the Gardeners being around.

 

[StormKingWit]

Spoiler: Author's Notes:

Welp, I'm on a roll haha, wasn't expecting to get this out today but it somehow coalesced quickly. Enjoy!

Constantinople, August 29, 1461

The Turkish Quarter was a recent establishment. There had always been some Turks in the city, at least over the last four centuries. Turks would serve as mercenaries for the Emperors often -even if it meant fighting against those of the same tongue and faith- and in more recent times, the Romans would give refuge to one exile or another.

It boasted 700 souls, most of them were those that had arrived here following Orhan. Warriors in search of gold, and who believed that the line of Mehmed I was unworthy of the Sublime Porte.

Whatever had brought Constantinople to this strange world however, made that whole point moot.

Orhan had been given a noble title by the Romans, his six-hundred warriors remaining under his command, and he had been named as Doux of all Turks living within the city. A year or two after the Light, the Turks of Constantinople had gathered in the old Amalfitan Quarter of the city. A small mosque was erected, and life continued for them.

His eldest son, Ali Shah, was already old enough to fight. Jahan and Vali were fast approaching that age as well... Which is why Prince Orhan was unhappy when he was summoned by Constantine. Arriving at Blachernae with Ali, he was led by the Emperor's household guards.

"It appears that the Targaryen would have us join his armies in an invasion of Dorne." Constantine said, and it was clear that he was as unhappy as Orhan about this.

"Dorne... I hear that the terrain in their desert is not unlike that of Arabia." Orhan commented, he had been there of course, having been briefly hosted by the court of the Bahri Sultans he had fought with them against tribesmen in Arabia.[1] It had been after his father's death, and when Mehmed refused to pay the money that the Romans demanded to stop him from going off to claim his throne.

"So I have heard." Agreed the Emperor. "The Megas Domestikos has also informed me that all planning being done seems to not take this into account."

"Merciful Allah, are they fools?" Orhan asked, he had seen Arab tribesmen butcher Egyptian armies who did not know how to deal with the desert-dwellers. He had been close to death on more than one occasion due to that.

"Overconfident," The Emperor answered with a resigned expression. "After all, Aegon Targaryen has Dragons, and he defeated the full might of the King of the Rock in battle, save for Argilac Durrandon, and the Dornish, everyone else swore fealty to him... Why would he need to worry about desert-dwellers hitting his armies' supplies?" It was clear that the Emperor was not convinced by that.

"Then again, Three Dragons cannot destroy every oasis before the locals move to the next one, and as King he cannot leave his realm unattended to methodically destroy each and every puddle in the middle of a desert..." The Emperor continued, just as resigned. "And yet, we must join him in this folly. "

"It won't end well." Orhan commented, "The Castles and Fortresses will fall, but the tribesmen? They'll keep fighting, and they know the land too well, even for a dragon-rider."

"And yet we have no choice." The Emperor said, "I will begin gathering our armies, they are to join with the forces under the command of Lord Tarly." Thankfully, not with the Hightowers, while the bad blood was not too deep, and relations were cordial but cold, it was still better not to take any risks.

"And yet we have no choice," Orhan agreed. "I'll rouse the men. They've been wanting for a chance to show these Andals why the Latins learned to fear us Turks."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

King's Landing

"Cowards," Orys Baratheon said in a low growl, looking at the Roman. "You have a walled city and refuse to fight!"

Theophilos looked at the Lord of Storm's End, making sure not to betray any emotions. "Neither, we will fight... But I must advise you all, this plan is not going to work. If what you have said in this very chamber is true, the Dornish are stubborn to a fault, and capable of holding grudges for long times. Their people can melt into the desert sands and their warriors will strike where they are not expected. We may win any pitched battle and take every fortress in that sun-scorched desert, but we will not be able to subdue the interior."

"Pah! Why would we need to march into the sand anyway! They will die of thirst so long as we hold the Greenblood and the coasts." Baratheon countered.

"If they have survived for thousands of years on a desert, they must have sources of water even deep into the sands." Theophilos commented, "They will not surrender, and whenever we try to reinforce a castle or send supplies, they will be very vulnerable, either to pirates at sea or to the raiders by land."

"Then they'll burn," King Aegon said, standing and making it clear that he did not intend to continue this discussion. "Maester Lyonce, send the ravens, we will march as planned."

[1] I'm inventing this, as far as we know Orhan was born in Constantinople, as apparently the sons of Suleyman Celebi took refuge there after his murder in 1411, Orhan is widely believed to be Suleyman's grandson.

 

[StormKingWit]

Spoiler: Author's Notes:

Screw this, found Ottoman Marches! Also, this chapter will also be a bit all over the place, several small bites of the opening moves of the Dornish Campaign. Dates, of course, correspond to the Julian Calendar, so Christmas is on December 25th

December 10th, 1461

The ride through the mountains was rough. But the plan was sound.

Five hundred and fifty men, all horsemen, would go through the passes of the Red Mountains. In the mountains they fought their first battle, and Ömer, one of the older men of the party, compared it to the lands of Kapadokya.

Ten men were lost, but as the mountains were not their goal, they kept moving forward. Still one man, Murad, son of Mehmed, was sent back after that first skirmish, so the armies that would cross in the following weeks would know what to expect.

There were thus Five hundred and Thirty-nine Ghazis who made it across the Red Mountains -and even Orhan was impressed by this- Ali Shah had also killed five men, and was showing himself even more capable than himself. Orhan was happy about that.

They reached the desert, and Orhan could not help but feel that this was like the deserts of Syria or Hejaz.

"We will raid them," He told his brave warriors, "Take their cattle and water for ourselves, some of us are well acquainted with the deserts, even if not these very sands, and so we will make ourselves into a clan of our own... All of you are sons of Osman now, descendants of Ertugurul, and we shall teach them to fear us as the Latins and Serbs feared our fathers."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"These Bombards of yours..." Lord Tarly seemed actually interested, which for Constantine was both a relief, and a curse.

"They are too heavy to drag through the mountains in time for cracking Blackmont. Although, once we have conquered it we will have an open way to Starfall down the Torrentine... And that way the Bombards will be more useful." He added. While he had nothing like Mehmed's monster, the modest wealth that the empire had acquired with silk and glass had allowed for some proper weapons of such sort to be built.

"I see," Lord Tarly said simply, turning back to the map. "We shall march in the morning, my men will take the vanguard should Lord Blackmont show with an army."

Constantine did not disagree with that plan.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sunspear, December 30th, 1461

"What will we gain from this Mother? All of Dorne suffering the fate of Argilac the Arrogant?" Nymor told his mother once they were alone. Meria Martell, Princess of Dorne, denied with her head.

"Our people would not stand for their rule, not when the Greenblood has such a long memory." She told him simply, "They would have found the first wandering madman and followed him into a revolt."

"But," Nymor countered, "We could have put it down, call upon the clans of the Desert, is it distasteful? yes, but better that, than let all of Dorne burn."

He had disagreed on this whole matter, but at the end of the day, his mother had the final say. She had chosen war, and he knew that they would regret this.

Before anything else could be said, a messenger came with a small parchment.

Blackmont had become the first Dornish keep to fall into foreign hands. Its Lord had not had the time to leave with his family and his servants.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Blackmont, December 25th, 1461

Lord Willem Tarly watched, as the Roman cooks in their camp began to bring out the strange egg-shaped sweets. Then he laughed.

Of course Blackmont would fall on the feast day of the Romans.

"The intended to abandon the castle rather than to hold it." Constantine commented with a small frown.

"Cowards," Hissed Lord Willem, "They won't even stand and fight like men."

"No, but it does mean that we have little to take once we enter their castles. The stores of this fort were not well stocked, undoubtedly to be used wherever they were hiding... and to deny them to us." Constantine reasoned, "They will likely continue fighting from the hills and deserts."

"Then we ought to raze every village and mud-hut from here to Starfall, see if the Daynes have anywhere to hide by that time."

Willem could see the Roman Basileus consider it. He grabbed one of the chairs and said, "Perhaps... We cannot make an example of Blackmont, its lord surrendered to us. But perhaps High Hermitage will do. I believe, Lord Willem, that I have yet to tell you of the Great Khan of the Mongols, and how he dealt with the Sultan of Khwarezm."

The two men had bonded to an extent. Lord Willem was... strange for a Lord Tarly, in that he was quite well-read. Of course, he was a great warrior and huntsman -one needed to be so to earn the respect of the knights of the Marches- but he had made sure to devour many a book, mostly on strategy and history.

For him, the exploits of the conquerors of Rome's past were just as adequate, and the Basileus, while not being a great swordsman, had proved to have a mind for the grim business of war, and the steel in his spine to see it through.

"You have not..." Willem said, "But I suppose that it will be... pertinent to our situation."

One of the camp followers came with the egg-shaped sweets, carrying a tray meant for both men, and the conversation switched to merrier topics.

 

[Arimai]

Idiots the lot of them. Hopefully the Dornish kill all three

 

[Immenotyou]

Just started reading this today. Extremely well done, both believable and I enjoy the fact that you didn't give anyone plot armor

 

[StormKingWit]

Spoiler: Author's Notes:

A bit of a short one, but the rest of the Dornish War has not changed too much from canon yet

January 20th, 1462. High Hermitage

Lord Tarly watched the five massive bronze tubes that the Romans had brought down in rafts through the Torrentine. It had been hell to drag them towards Blackmont, but once they were on the rafts, transportation was easy.

The Romans brought stonecutters, and they fashioned local stones and boulders into balls the size of a man, and weighing more than a horse. He could see their alchemists -unaffiliated with the guild that bore the same name in Westeros- bring out the black mixture that the objects used... It felt like sorcery, yet the materials used in the concoction were fairly mundane.

It had been one of his household knights that volunteered to seek out whoever was defending the castle. It appeared though, that the local branch of House Dayne was intent in buying Starfall time to vacate itself. The Knight of High Hermitage had remained, and Ser Walys, Lord Tarly's man, had been killed and his remains hoisted up the walls.

It was thus that, as the sun rose on that day, he sat atop his horse, and by the Basileus.

"And this Sultan Mehmed had greater such devices?" He asked bewildered. It took a team of oxen to pull the large tubes into position from their barges.

"Aye," He heard Constantine reply, "He had sixty, from bombards the size of the ones we have, to a monster that was there to shoot from across the Golden Horn at any and all ships that tried to relieve the city. It took sixty oxen to drag it to position, and did untold damage once it was set upon the walls."

"Gods," Tarly muttered. Then he saw the Basileus give a signal, and one by one each tube was lit. A lit fuse was inserted in a small orifice on each massive weapon. And then thunder raged despite the lack of clouds, the ground shook, and smoke and flame came out of the end of the tube.

This was happened five times in as many hearbeats, and then the men operating such monsters set out to reload. They cleaned the massive tubes, then poured copious amounts of the black powder, rammed it, and then put yet another ball inside.

The Castles of Westeros were designed to deal with other kinds of weapons. Trebuchets were fearsome, and well-employed they could break down walls and towers. But they were not like this. The stones that they hurled were smaller, and while they were easier to transport to the site, it took longer -if not too much longer- to ready them between shots.

But the force at which the boulder had to have been propelled forward... Lord Tarly was well aware that the tall thin walls employed in Westeros -in order to make scaling the walls unfeasible or at least highly impractical- did not stand a chance.

He had seen the Walls of Constantinople, they were as tall as the wall of any castle, but they were thicker in their build, not to mention that having more than one set of walls improved their situation.

After some time, the Basileus invited him to retreat to the tents. The five massive tubes would continue on their terrible task until sunset. And it was decided that they would determine the next morning if they were to assault the castle, or to continue pounding High Hermitage into submission.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Come morning of the following day, the sight was once more a shock for Lord Willem Tarly.

The walls of High Hermitage had stood proud the previous morning. But despite the defenders' efforts through the night, the northern face of the walls was for all intents gone. Three great breaches had been opened, and while there were barricades, a determined attack would likely break through.

"I advise against assaulting today," Constantine spoke with seeming calm. "If they have barricaded only two breaches, an ambush surely lays behind the third one... It is what I would do."

Tarly agreed, even if Lord Peake had wanted to go ahead.

Of course, everyone knew by this point that the Basileus clearly had some experience in the opposite situation.

"And what would you have us do? The sooner we conquer the castle, the less time Lord Dayne will have to escape our grasp."

"Tomorrow, I will have the bombards continue their work through the day, and once we have observed the damage at dawn, we will fall upon High Hermitage."

 

[StormKingWit]

Spoiler: Author's Notes:

Alright, this is a short one, I'm really struggling with having the Dornish War arc rolling at the moment.

January 30th, 1462

The surrender of Ser Allard Dayne, knight of High Hermitage, had been rather unceremonious, and he and his family would keep their lives... the Castle however, had been subject to three days of bombardment, and in that time, the keep of High Hermitage had become but a ruin. Sure, it could eventually be repaired, or rather, rebuilt, but that would take time.

It had taken them five days after that to reach Starfall by sailing down the Torrentine. And had they arrived a day later, they would have found the castle entirely empty. As it was, they had run into the castle with Lord Dayne and his family still on it, but being ready to abandon it.

Bombards were set up, and one of the unlanded knights captured from High Hermitage was sent to offer terms to Lord Dayne. They were fairly simple, a promise that he would not be stripped of his titles, nor would his keep remain under siege -albeit they had to consent to a garrison, at least until the end of the War-. In exchange for his surrender.

And of course, assurances that Starfall would remain standing should Lord Dayne refuse to surrender, and that unlike High Hermitage, it would be demolished with the Lord Dayne and his family within.

Romans and Reachmen alike settled in for the siege while they waited.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Meeting under a banner of truce, Orhan watched the leader of one of the many desert-dwelling clans of this land. His name was Lewyn, an old man who had fought other clans, as well as the Stormlanders on more than one occasion. With him were two of the Dornish desert-dwellers. Orhan had come with three of his Turks.

Over the last month, his clan had fought in the way the Prophet had fought so long ago, in the early days when he was but the smallest of the leaders and chieftains of Arabia. They had terrorized caravans and raided and looted their way through the center of Dorne. They were also different.

Life in the desert was harsh. Most clans would not take in those that fell away from the caravans, but Orhan did, provided they converted to Islam.

Lewyn's clan was one of the smaller ones. But he was widely respected.

"And what would you do should you prevail, the clans of the Desert will shatter and once more fight one another as soon as you leave an area, and they are not capable of defeating the River-Dwellers or the Knights of the Mountains if it comes to it..."

It was interesting that there was no mention of the Targaryens, then again, the news might not travel too fast in the Desert.

"I do not care what disputes exist within the clans," Orhan told him, "So long as all answer my call, and while I may be willing to... mediate, I understand that gold and cattle cannot solve every dispute. As for the Knights and the Pikemen, I have allies beyond the Mountains who are weakening them both. They do not expect me to bring upon a great army against them, but I intend to deliver the killing blow... If your people answers the Prophet's call, peace be upon Him."

Lewyn watched the Turk, deep in thought.

There would be a feast that night.

 

[Immenotyou]

oh boy, looks like future religious wars are going to happen between the Seven and Muslims if he gets a whole bunch of Dornish to convert

 

[RichardWhereat]

Future religious wars are guaranteed between Islam and the seven anyway.

 

[StormKingWit]

Yronwood, February 20th, 1462.

"I expected Lord Yronwood to betray the Martells." The King spoke once he and his army had entered the keep. "They have revolted against Sunspear many times after all..."

"Your Grace, did you not know?" Asked, seemingly in disbelief, a knight. The man was sworn to Lord Selmy, and had distinguished himself in what clashes had happened against the Dornish. "Lord Yronwood is married to a daughter of Princess Meria, Mayhaps the Western advance down the Torrentine met with better luck, last I heard there were talks of Rebellion among the Daynes."

The Eastern wing of the Invasion had appeared successful -even when counting the disappearance of Orys near Wyl, apparently the Dornishmen had ambushed his army. However, the lands seemed empty. Sure, the smallfolk were there, but the Knights and Lords were gone, vanished...

"I suppose that something similar has happened with other houses?" The King asked the assembled men, one of Lord Dondarrion's men replied.

"Aye, Your Grace, Houses Uller, Manwoody and Qorgyle have married a Martell, and through those houses, the Gargalens, Santagars, Jordaynes and Vaith are also tied to the Martells."

Aegon found that... troubling. And it explained the resistance -even if it was not in a conventional sense- Still, it did not tell them how to beat said resistence.

At that point, a Raven came from Sandstone, and everyone was confused.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sandstone, February 14th, 1462

Arron Sand had never thought that he'd be able to take his Half-brother's seat. Sure, sure, he'd been legitimized a few years back, but no one other than his father seemed to care. And so, once Lord Quentyn Qorgyle had died, Arron left. He spent years as a hedge knight, marrying a lowborn girl and fathering a couple of sons. He spent years making friends among the knights sworn to House Qorgyle...

And now? The choice had been all too easy. He and the few knights that seemed to follow him -a small band of hedge knights- had run into the most shocking sight they had seen. There were nearly two thousand Desert-dwellers, descendants of the Andal Adventurers who had found themselves on the losing side of one war too many in the old days, led by a man who was clearly not Dornish, and carrying a strange banner, it was red, Twin-tailed and bearing a golden... was that a set of scissors?[1]

Still, never had any Desert dwelling clan amassed such a force.

Seeing a chance, Arron went to parlay with the leader of this host. Orhan, son of Mehmed, acclaimed by his men as Bey, and Ghazi.

To have thought that all it would take for Arron Sand -for he was never truly a Qorgyle, his half-brother Gulian had made sure that he would know this- to claim Sandstone for himself, was to adopt a foreign god -that many of his countrymen seemed to have adopted already- and swear himself as his vassal.

"I thought the locals would be more... restless..." Orhan commented, and Arron could only shrug.

"They know a son of Sandstone, Lord Uller might march West, and Lord Dayne may march east against us though."

The laugh that the Turk let out was confusing.

"Lord Dayne will not be a problem, I can assure you that... And Uller... I can assure you that he will find himself defeated should he not surrender."

To other men, Arron would have laughed and called mad. This Orhan however... Having seen him with his Turks and the Desert-Dwellers, Arron couldn't help but thing that this might just work out.

[1] The Ottomans used a banner bearing the Zulfiqar, the bifurcated sword of Ali ibn Abi Talib, before adopting the Crescent. Westerners often confused it with a pair of scissors.

 

[StormKingWit]

Starfall, March 1st, 1462.

It had been an order from King Aegon that had seen the advance of the Romans and some of the Reachmen come to a halt after Lord Dayne surrendered. They were to secure their position, so that they would not be dislodged from the Torrentine should the rest of Dorne be more successful in its resistance. After all, half of the food supply in the land came from the Torrentine, the Desert houses could not rely on the Greenblood alone after all.

Word had arrived at Starfall of the fate that befell the fortifications of High Hermitage, Lord Dayne chose to surrender. After all, given that Lord Blackmont had been allowed a surrender as well, he figured that it was a better position than what he already had.

The Reachmen and Romans did not stay within the walls of Starfall, they remained just outside the castle town. Still, Lord Vorian Dayne considered his options.

He had already surrendered, and as such any chance of throwing the Romans out, at least for now, was over. He could collaborate. The Southeastern arm of the Red Mountains shielded the Torrentine from Dorne almost as well as the Red Mountains separated the Reach from Dorne. He could swear his service -and to be fair, the lack of bad blood between his own people and these Romans made it an... interesting prospect-

He could also collaborate only until the Great Uprising that would usually happen when a foreign conqueror marched deep into Dorne did its thing. However, his own contacts in the deserts were giving him news that made this unlikely. Many Desert Clans, especially the Westernmost, had sworn themselves to one Orhan, who headed a new clan with a name that was neither Andal nor Rhoynar.

This Osmanoglu clan seemed to be at least acting in benefit of the armies of Aegon Targaryen, if not fully aligned with him Thus, LordVorian made his choice on March. With nothing to tie him to Sunspear, he could not afford to risk his land and people burning, and his keep demolished by the thundering tubes the Romans had brought.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sunsepar, March 15th, 1462

At last, Aegon Targaryen entered the palace of Sunspear along with Rhaenys. And yet, it was deserted.

Ser Harlan Tyrell had distinguished himself, and he had taken various castles along the Greenblood, alas, their defenders had basically abandoned them, with only those too old or too infirm remaining to defend them. There were other successes though. Many of the Desert Clans had rallied around the man that Theophilos had told him that Constantine would send. He had recently received a letter as well, from the ravenries of Sandstone, the Sand-Dwellers had proclaimed Orhan Osmanoglu as their Sultan, curiously, while he referred to himself by such a title, Aegon found that the Turk referred to him as Padishah[1]. An odd title unlike anything he had ever heard.

Figuring that he could always ask Theophilos about this later, Aegon then received the second letter, and couldn't help but wonder if this was a good sign or a bad sign for this campaign.

The first Dornish Lord to bend the knee, had sworn his fealty before Constantine Palaiologos in Starfall. And while Romans and Westerosi were effectively ruled in the same manner -with Aegon himself being their sorvereign, but the local former realms retaining autonomy, for such was the way of the feudal system- This might prove problematic, he just knew it.

Deciding that he could deal with this once this Dornish matter was fully settled, Aegon Targaryen prepared to establish his rule in this land. And hopefully, the locals would prove as capable of accepting their defeat as those of the rest of Westeros.

[1] A Persian title meaning "Great King" used alongside Caliph and Sultan by the Ottomans.

 

[StormKingWit]

Spoiler: Author's Note:

I am still undecided on how to handle the Second Phase of the Dornish War... Although at the end of the day there won't be a Second one. In either case, Dorne has been hell to write, even with as little as I've actually done, and the next arc planned is one I hope will be much more interesting. Maybe I'll leave the second phase of the Dornish War as something that happens in the Background of a LONG timeskip.

Starfall, March 4th, 1462.

Starfall, Constantine noticed, was an ancient keep. As he was shown by the Lord Dayne, it was as old as the ancient ruins of the Argolid that he had often visited when he was the Despot of Morea. The ruins that were claimed to be where Mighty Agamemnon had given the orders for all the Achaeans to sail on Proud Illion.

As a matter of fact, the oldest structure that still stood was a wall. It encompassed a portion of the gardens and was built just like the walls in those ancient ruins of what was said to be Mykene.

Lord Dayne had seemed surprisingly willing to accept the imposition of ensuring the safety of Christian Priests that were in the Torrentine. Albeit that could probably be due to a belief that his own deity had abandoned him... An interesting matter, which brought him back to the ancient stone wall, with an equally ancient gate, leading into an equally ancient grove within the gardens of Starfall.

"My ancestors first worshipped a set of gods whose names have been forgotten, and then they turned to worship like the Northmen." Of course, Constantine knew about the Northern faith and its strange lack of ritual, "This wall was built to encompass the grove where they worshipped in such ancient times."

There was.. something about the forest inside that screamed to Constantine, something that felt wrong, and ancient. Crossing himself slowly, he said, "I suppose you do keep a true Heart Tree, rather than replacing it with other kinds of trees as I've seen elsewhere." Of course, Highgarden had one such tree, Weirwoods with white bark and blood red sap and leaves, actually, three of them joined in a single tree by their branches. After his first time near it, Constantine had promptly decided to avoid such places, even if a small portion of the forests that had long overgrown the outermost areas of The City -while still within the walls- had been walled off and set aside so that any visiting Northman could pray in it.

"We do," Lord Dayne confirmed. "My daughter finds it comforting, but I see you would disagree," There was more resignation than anything on the Dornish Lord's voice from what Constantine noted, and so, he nodded.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sunspear, April 2nd, 1461.

The men assembled in the Great Hall of the Martell's old palace, where the men who would determine the future of Dorne.

Aegon Targaryen stood at the head of the table, he watched those around him, as if studying them.

Constantine Palaiologos sat on the right hand of the table, his forces had been victorious on the encounters they'd had with the Dornish, and Lord Tarly had deferred to him in matters of siege, which proved to be the right call, as the thundering boom of the Bombards could attest to.

Ser Harlan Tyrell had managed to reach the Greenblood after coming down through the Prince's Pass, the river saving his army from thirst and hunger as they marched, conquering its banks.

Orhan Osmanoglu, Sultan to his men, stood with an elaborate curved sword on his belt. He had gained the fealty of many Desert-Dwelling clans, and they had conquered for him several of the keeps that laid along the coast of the Summer Sea.

Many Lords of the Wells still survived and resisted, but their armies dwindled. And it was clear that the Turks of Orhan had taken upon themselves to finish them off.

"To begin with." King Aegon spoke. "Lord Dayne has sworn himself before Basileus Constantine... I shall respect this arrangement, and the Torrentine shall fall under the domains of the Romans."

A small nod from the Basileus, and no protest from the others.

"The lands sworn to Yronwood, Wyl and Manwoody will fall under the purview of Lord Tyrell, while the Center and West of the remainder of Dorne shall go to Lord Orhan." He continued, a map was brought with the divisions in it. "The remainder, from Godsgrace to Sunspear, shall be ruled by a man yet to be appointed. Lord Tyrell, you are to find Lord Wyl, and if possible to rescue the hostages he caught." That had been an embarrassment, albeit from what little he had managed to gather, the success of Lord Wyl had not come cheap, and Orys and those under him had killed as many of the bastards as they could.

"We shall convene once more in a month, when I will inform you of the man who is to rule the remainder of Dorne, and when we shall see if this arrangement must be modified."

 

[Immenotyou]

Your map would probably drive me nuts.
The border gore! The border gore!

Your update speed is also insane.

 

[StormKingWit]

Assume that there are minor rivers and streams on Ottoman Territory, especially near their own border with the Torrentine, flowing down from the Western part of the Southern Red Mountains but not significant enough to show up on the map

 

[Sayle]

It might just be my failing eyes, but where is Constantinople on that map? Oh, wait. I think I see it. A teeny weeny blob on the side of that other natural inlet on the coast.

 

[Arimai]

It might just be my failing eyes, but where is Constantinople on that map? Oh, wait. I think I see it. A teeny weeny blob on the side of that other natural inlet on the coast.

Click to shrink...

Nope. It's not on the map at all. Constantinople is in the Western Reach. This map is only for Dorne