Chapter 67: Baelor XII
Early 162 AC
Plans had gone awry, but even if he was used to it by now, Baelor was not thrilled that the idea of finally, finally introducing his best friend to his family had been so thoroughly sabotaged. Yet was it sabotage if merely the circumstances of life had deemed that decisions were made outside his control? His sweet cousin and her children were perusing the festivities of the tourney, well before he had expected them too, and his brother the king was likewise meeting with several visiting dignitaries from Essosi realms in his solar. His mother was visiting with Velaryon kin along with his sisters, much to his annoyance given that she was one of the people that had expressed the most interest in meeting Casper in the first place, and his uncle was once again busy with something somewhere in Kings Landing with cousin Aemon in tow.
As for Aegon? He rightly did not give a single fuck about what Aegon was doing, as the man never really told anyone anyway, and far be it from him to pry into his hedonistic cousin's affairs. Best for the man's father to that instead, though he did pity his cousin Naerys for all the shame her brother brought upon their branch of House Targaryen and her marriage. Yet even with his family unexpectedly scattered across the city and its surrounding grounds, containing his excitement was difficult, and Baelor could not help but grin as the guards announced the arrival of his guest. He would have to wait until tonight then for them to meet Casper, but Baelor had long ago learned the importance of patience, and he had become quite the patient man in his time moving between Dorne, the Stormlands, and Kings Landing itself.
Meeting in the front courtyard was rarely a private thing, even if most people were off amongst the tourney or their own agendas. Yet Lord Wytch's arrival needed little introduction, as the prince could not help the smile on his face at the sight of the now-famed sigil appearing at the gate. "Who goes there?" one of the guards called.
"Lord Casper Wytch, of House Wytch, on the summons of the prince and royal heir," the Targaryen captain replied. The men guarding the entrance nodded and made to let them pass, the prince's own men escorting his friend and several guards into the courtyard. Strange, he had not anticipated his friend to bring so many men with him; he'd thought his own men would be enough for the task. Then again, Casper could have simply dismissed his escort if Baelor's family was available to meet him. Oh well, Baelor was nothing if not prepared, and immediately saw how to turn this unfortunate situation towards something more positive, as there were a great many things he wished to speak of with Casper.
He approached the group a servant in tow with the customary guarantee, smiling as Casper gave a polite bow. With bread bitten and salt thrown, he nodded to his friend. "Welcome to the Red Keep, Lord Wytch," he said. "I trust your journey here was not unpleasant?"
Casper shook his head. "Nay, my prince, as other than the smell of the city, it is grander than anything I've seen for myself. The Red Keep, on the other hand, it is incredible, truly a work of genius by your forefathers in both majesty and awe."
Baelor barely held back a snort. Hopefully his friend would not be so enamored by the place Baelor had secluded himself in until the fateful day he was informed of the great sept in Lowhill. It was a deceiving thing, filled with plotters, the unkind, the unjust, and those with more ambition than sense. Hopefully his friend, who was always so observant of these sorts of things, would not fall prey to it as others had.
"Besides," Casper continued, "I've gifts for your house, my prince, ones I would rather give in person, though I do not have them on my person at this moment. If you wish, I could have my men deliver them?"
"Nay, not yet my friend. I had planned on introducing you to my family, but as it would seem, even the best laid plans of men can go awry."
"Oh? How so?"
"None of them are here, or at least those that are yet in the Red Keep are not… available, so to speak," he said, unable to hide his wince of annoyance. "Be that as it may, Casper, there are a great many other things I believe we could accomplish during your stay here. Not in the Red Keep, necessarily, but elsewhere in the city, should you have the time?"
"Aye, I've nowhere else to be this day," the man replied, giving the prince a rushed sensed of relief. "I would still send some of my guards away though, to ensure that the gifts I have brought are ready and in good order for when I can deliver them."
"Very well, see to it before we depart, I also am in no great hurry," Baelor said with a nod, watching as his friend turned and spoke in low tones to his guards. Yet before Casper finished, Baelor noticed his captain subtly signal to him the need to speak, a common practice amongst those he had taken in as his underlings. He cared not for sycophants, but for men both honest and practical, much like his friend in fact, though he had learned how to deal with the first long before this tourney. "Yes, captain, what is it?" he asked, leaning in closer.
The captain glanced around before dropping his voice to a low whisper, as even with the tourney causing many to depart the keep, there were always eyes and ears anywhere you looked hard enough, especially in the confines of the Red Keep. "Were it any other situation, my prince, I would have sought to deal with it myself, but there was an… altercation upon delivering our summons for Lord Wytch."
Baelor's smile faded from his face. "Oh? In what way?"
"The men and I arrived to the Stormlander encampment to find Lord Wytch engaged in conversation with several Crownland lords, mostly CracklawPoint ones by the look of things, and one lord from the Reach. Upon handing the summons to the Wytch captain, the odd Crownlander lord snatched it from his grip and read it."
Baelor was unsure how such a small event managed to turn his mood, already soured from the lack of his family's attendance, from excited to borderline angry. Surprised, to be sure, and more than a bit annoyed, but this angry? He'd not felt this way in… a good while, at least. "They tore it from Casper's hand?"
"Nay, from that of his captain, but gave it back to Lord Wytch after reading it. I believe they did not believe he had been summoned by you."
Intercepting another lord's correspondence in peacetime was considered distasteful and dishonorable at the very best, and outright overstepping at the worst, and that was simply among equals. For a lord to intercept a royal summons, one written by the prince himself? If that was not outright treason, then the punishment would need to be a severe censure at the minimum, if not an outright expulsion from the festivities and a tax or more levied on the house in question. Yet did he have the authority to do so? His brother the king did at least, especially given that it was a Crownlands lord, so convincing him of such action would likely not take much convincing, as he had been very interested in some of Baelor's goals for the future of their capitol and their house.
Speaking of which…
"Captain, which lord was it?"
"The lord was that of House Darklyn, my prince, though the head of House Fossoway was there as well."
"Alone?" Such an honorless action demanded recompense of sorts, given that it was a royal summons, but punishing one house would be simple. Punishing two, from two completely different kingdoms? He feared that might be trickier if they were not necessarily connected, but something in his gut told him otherwise. Should a connection be known, then censuring both would become far easier.
"Nay, both had their guards and kin with them, heirs and spares by the look of things."
"Was Lord Wytch outnumbered?" Any other lord might have drawn steel for such impertinence, but Casper was not one to be quick to anger, thankfully, but if the numbers were not in his favor…
"Counting the Cracklaw lords and their guards, his own guards, and the assortment of encampment guards? Nay, my prince, I would say they had the advantage in numbers, if only by a small amount. Had it turned to live steel, it would have been bad, likely erupting into a slaughter if more lords and men joined it to try and stop it."
Baelor nodded, thankful nothing such had happened, though still incensed some lord had had the gall to act in such a manner. He recalled that House Wytch had had troubles with the Fossoways before, and his kingly brother had told him of the ill-feeling that house displayed during the war towards House Wytch's contributions to the Stormlands. Yet why were the Darklyns involved? Why would a Crownlands house grab his summons out of another man's hands? It would seem he had answers to seek from those lords and Casper alike, but he did not wish to ruin his friend's first time in the capitol by bringing such business to bear just yet. "Thank you, captain, see to it that Lord Wytch's men return to their camp without harassment, but be sure to note whoever else might attempt to cause such trouble," he said as he watched the Wytch men depart. "My brother the king will most certainly want to hear about those who would bring… problems to his great celebration."
"My prince," the captain replied, thumping his breast before following the others out, the select Wytch men in tow. Without a word, Ser Thorne emerged from amongst a throng of men, resplendent as always in his white cloak, followed swiftly by his sworn shields and swords, taking the place of the guards. It had grown beyond Gendry Celtigar and Balon Buckler that had first served him, yet he ensured that those that were by his side knew he appreciated their service. Whether or not that secured their loyalty, or the fact they served a prince and heir to the Iron Throne, he did not know, but chose not to dwell too deeply on the matter. He had better things to think about these days.
Baelor grabbed Casper by the forearm and pulled him into a quick embrace with a laugh, seeking to cover for his concern for his friend's troubles.
He smiled as Casper returned the embrace. "My prince, it's good to see you again," his friend said, stepping back. "You are looking well, seems like only last week that you were last in Stormhall's walls. Where does the time go these days?"
"When you're as busy as we are, Casper, days tend to go by without notice or mercy," Baelor said. "As my original plan is no longer… feasible, there was something else I wished to show you today."
"Whereabouts, my prince?"
"The Dragonpit, my friend, for my time in the Stormlands and Dorne have given me a great many ideas for Kings Landing. Most of these ideas I blame you for, by the way."
His friend shook his head with a good-natured chuckle as the stableboys brought them their mounts. "Ah, if I must bear the blame for you looking to do great things for the kingdoms and their people, I shall gladly do so."
Departing the Red Keep, guards proceeding and flanking them on all sides, Baelor let out a content sigh. His friend was finally here! It was easy to simply try and express ideas in writing, but to do so in person, with quick discussions and quicker replies, it was a process that could not be replaced. If only there was a way for him and Casper to speak more quickly over such grand distances, but surely such a thing outside of magic was merely a flight of fancy, and nothing more.
Meandering down the streets, which were emptier than normal thanks to his brother's tourney, he turned to Casper. "How are your daughters? I heard you have a third now."
"Yes, Argella and Brienne grow well and are learning quickly, while Ravella is little more than a squirming babe in my wife's arms. Someday my wife and I will try for another, a son this time, but the fever after Ravella's birth nearly took Mylenda from us, so we will wait until she has recovered."
"I see, a good thing then. Far too early yet to be looking for any betrothals, I take it?"
"Aye, unless the needs of my house were dire, which they thankfully are not."
"Well, Arenna is set to marry the Selmy heir, what of Shyra? Last I recall, you had yet to secure a betrothal for her."
His friend nodded, his smile faltering slightly as they passed a group of goldcloaks, their revamped numbers doing far better now that Baelor was assisting in their overhaul. Baelor had managed to cut back on the bribes they accepted through rigorous screening and training, but the cronyism of the 'old guard' was proving more difficult to stamp out. Many new men were competent, he had ensured that, but if they just so happened to know the older veterans, then determining if they were liable to be coerced was more challenging. "She has been… difficult to find a suitable match for. Not on her part, as far as I can tell, but simply because there are not many suitable men of marrying age available to consider for her. I'd rather not see her married off to a widower lord or a man of advanced age, given how strongly she does not like men of a good age older than her."
"Why is that? Surely, would it not better secure your house to find one sooner than later?"
"Given her… experience with Craggner's attempts at intimidation years ago, I believe a young man closer to her own age would be better suited to care for her. That, and I would not wish to cause issues with a lord who already has heirs from a previous marriage, and perhaps even grandchildren from those children. Succession would rear its ugly head sooner than later, and I would not wish to have the issue of pressing claims for a house as young as mine, lest others see it as me being opportunistic and more ambitious than my station allows for."
Baelor nodded, impressed by the reasoning. His friend thought so much for the future, yet focused so much on the present, that was it any wonder he had succeeded more often than he had failed thus far in life? Even his failures were in some ways a success, as they were important lessons he had learned to recognize the value of. "I see, yet you are only looking in the Stormlands itself, correct?"
His friend crossed his arms whilst nodding. "Yes, though I've not found many I would consider worthy of her hand, but that may be my protectiveness as a brother coming through. If I were to pick one right this instance, perhaps the grandson of the current Lord Tarth would work. He is to be a ward of mine soon enough, so I'd be able to get a better measure of his character then."
Baelor could not help the chuckle that escaped his throat. "So you mentioned in your letters, yet he is just one of four wards not counting the prince from Dorne. Are you truly looking to have so many under your care?"
"For the betterment of my house, I am willing to do more than that," Casper replied. "Yet this peace in Dorne troubles me, my prince, for the prince in my care is more like us than others would expect, though he is yet just a child and unlikely to cause me much mischief yet. For the Dornish to have so readily accepted the peace terms gives me a feeling of… foreboding, given their history."
"You fear a revolt?" So many of Baelor's plans had been made to take such an event into account, but to hear his friend speak of it, almost as if it were a certainty…
"Aye, but when and where, I could no more predict than I could say by whom. The splitting of Dorne into more manageable portions has likely curtailed their united undercurrent of anger at the conquest, yet for all my worries, I have heard nothing but good things come from the eastern portion under the care of yourself and Lord Baratheon."
Rounding a corner, the prince nodded. "Aye, the smallfolk have taken well to the direction of our governorship. Bandit attacks, as uncommon as they were in eastern Dorne preceding the peace, have been steadily declining anywhere near the territories the more compliant lords have under their sway. Certainly, there are still 'bandits' out and about, but most caravans of trading goods or supplies have rarely been met with trouble."
"Fear of the king's reprisal, or that of the 'Fyrestorm' I wonder?" Casper asked with a snort.
Baelor held back a frown. He did not like that name, if only because of how he acquired it, but tolerated it because of the respect it brought him and his house. That, and it would be a disservice to the men he'd fought alongside to go against the event that had saved them a great deal of woe had they needed to attack those entrenched Dornish. "Perhaps the latter, more than I am willing to take credit for," he replied. "As it is, with the lessening bandit attacks, more and more smallfolk are willing to look for traveling work or engage in trade. With the aid of your roads into the Marches, as well as their continued construction across the Stormlands, the hardier of Dornish goods have been spreading further and further with every passing moon. Has there been more moving through your own lands than before?"
"A small increase compared to before the war, but they likely fear my lands more than they see them as a profitable destination. Might have overdone it with the impalement to be fair, but a message needed sending then that raiding will no longer be 'a part of war' as it once was, nor a source of inspiration or profit."
He nodded. "I agree, and as it stands no Dornish band has raided out of the Stormlands, nor Stormlander band has encroached upon Dornish territory recently. I did have to send a band of the latter to the Wall last year though, as they were intent on avenging fallen comrades in some foolhardy quest. A shame that they thought they could do so with impunity, but at least their skills will be useful at the Wall."
Casper nodded as they passed the ringing hammers and bellows of the forges lining the Street of Steel. "Keeping the peace between both will ensure hostilities cool before they can be allowed to flare up again. I would hate to see violence again come to the region so soon after the war, when the people should be focused on rebuilding their lives and their lands."
"Given the numbers of smallfolk that would have starved had I not ensured the absence of looting and wanton destruction, it made my next course of action quite easy. I assume you know of my expeditions across Essos, to seek out new crops for our lands?"
"Yes, a venture I wholeheartedly support my prince. I have yet to speak with the Northmen on their attempts to grow rice within the Neck, but how have others fared in the Crownlands themselves?"
"Very well on all fronts, though not without some problems. Some of the Yi Tish farmers have faced problems with locals believing them to be emigrating to take over the land, but given their contracts are for a set time, it is a notion quite easy to disprove. For their religious beliefs… the less said about the headaches between them and the High Septon, the better." To think of how highly he had once thought of that man and those like him, yet his time within Casper's lands had opened his eyes to the corruption behind it all, and just how far the Faith had fallen from their lofty ideals and goals. It made him sick to think about it, but he was patient, he would see to their corruption in due time…
"Ah, I see. Have you introduced these crops to Dorne?"
"Yes, though slowly, and only in the places firmly under the control of the Iron Throne," Baelor replied. "My foster father and I have devised a reward system for the smallfolk and lesser nobles directly under our purview. As you know, we import enough food from both the Reach and Stormlands that we have effectively seized control of farming. Cash crops are well and truly beyond such attempts, but with the source of food in our control, determining how the smallfolk perceive us is paramount to our continued success."
"So this reward system then?"
Baelor shrugged. "For every set number of months there is no incident of banditry, riots or assaults upon crown officials and troops, imported food quantity and variety is increased whilst the additional taxes are lessened on the nobles, as I was able to convince the king and my foster father to impose no taxes upon the smallfolk themselves. However, for every attack or act of banditry, or if there are several attacks in a short span of time, the variety is restricted once more and the tax returns to the previous amount for the lords, with public declarations as to why. The number of bandits that had been rounded up early into the peace grew quite quickly when the lords realized that the less of their Dornish smallfolk were off fighting an already-lost war, the lighter their burdens would be as the months went by. By now, the number is likely to drop even further as the peace continues."
"The fate of these bandits?"
"Those willing were sent to the Wall. The rest have been hanged for all to see."
"A good dichotomy, my prince, but how have the increased taxes not caused more to rebel?"
"That is where the portion of our plan my foster father created comes into play. Each region can only support so many bandits that are not contributing to the land itself, as bandits tend not to farm or herd sheep. So, it is the surrounding areas that face the brunt of dealing with them as well as the lords at fault. Lords are encouraged to dissuade banditry in their lands, not just for the burdens it would place on them, but for the trouble it would cause with their neighbors. We do not tax just the lords in which the banditry occurs, but also levy a temporary penalty upon those who border those lands, as bandits tend to move around lest they be found by our scouting parties."
"Why?"
"The penalty is light enough to be a stern reminder, yet with enough lords feeling the burden, it has not taken long for them to ensure that their own lands cause no such trouble, as the number of feuds breaking out between neighboring houses has risen considerably. Most of it has been based on one lord or another being unable to keep his lands safe for the king's men and trade caravans, but on occasion Dornish blood has been spilt by these bandits that cause further divides." He did not like this division and infighting, but the blood of Dornishmen infamously ran hot, and it would only cool against his brother's rule with time and patience. Besides, as his brother had told him, it was better they quarrel amongst themselves than unite against the Iron Throne.
"So, lords that are likely supporting the bandits are being publicly punished for it, but their relations with their neighbors sours as time goes on, and such divides would make it harder and harder for them to find allies or sympathetic lords if the troublesome lords are the ones being blamed for their woes. I assume it has worked thus far, but how much more can it succeed?"
Baelor shrugged as they began a slow climb up one of the city's primary hills. "I cannot say for certain, as perhaps they continue to plot behind closed doors, but the results thus far speak for themselves, my friend. Add into that the improvement of certain roads and bridges, the rebuilding of towns that other forces sacked, and the ensuring that the law of the Iron Throne extends to not only those who live in Dorne, but those currently occupying Dorne, has seen a great deal of what would have been unrest curtailed, or in many places, stamped out completely."
"So, other than your current system, what else have you done in Dorne? I know the roads throughout the Stormlands continue to be rebuilt and improved through my S.E.C., which thanks to you has no shortage of mason apprentices and their kin looking to make good coin. I've had to build them a second headquarters just to provide their resident families with living space!"
Baelor could not hold back his laugh at his friends false exasperation. "You are welcome, my friend, and between Lord Baratheon and I, there is much that eastern Dorne has experienced that sets them apart from the Tyrell half. We have been finding and digging wells both new and thought destroyed by dragonfire over a century ago, we're expanding canal networks for farms and orchards, and I've even begun sending men to oversee the groundwork laid to create rice fields along the flatter portions of every Dornish river under our jurisdiction. Yet my most ambitious dream for Dorne has proven… elusive at best."
"That would be…?"
"Finding the means of producing glass as Myr does, or at least in a cheaper way, without waking up to find Myr has declared an embargo on us or worse. I will admit that I know extremely little on how to make glass, let alone how to make it durable and not horribly expensive."
"The kingdom would certainly be an excellent place to find the right kinds of sand to make glass, given the sheer amount of desert the kingdom possesses. Fret not prince, I'm sure a solution will provide itself."
"I need not worry at all, as we have arrived," Baelor replied with a grin, their group coming to a stop at one of the formerly most-deserted portions of the entire city, a place thought cursed and put to the torch a generation before Baelor had even been born. "Come, I wish to show you around, and would prefer to have your say on what I aim to achieve here."
Lord Wytch looked rather stunned, but then again, most people did when they entered the gigantic Dragonpit. Even now, a ruined and charred mess, it still gave an aura of awe and even fear to those who had not entered its premises for some time. Even the most destitute of the city, the poor souls, tended to avoid these twisted and darkened ruins, fearing burnt ghosts, dragons made of malicious shadow, and countless other rumors and legends. To think of the great beasts that had once resided in this great structure, now so empty as to resemble the tomb it became for so many.
Indeed, as the great number of workers cleared away more rubble and ruins, many of them remnants of what little his father's former Hand Tyland Lannister had tried to restore or remove, Baelor could not help but feel as much awe entering the massive structure as he had the very first time he had walked through the old, broken bronze and iron doors. His friend's gaze too mirrored much the same, taking in what at one point would have been a place that, were all the benches still within, could have seated eighty thousand people.
"Amazing, is it not?" Baelor asked as they dismounted.
"Aye, my prince, truly… marvelous," Casper said, their steeds being handed off to waiting stableboys. "Just what do you intend to do with this place? Surely not rebuild it as it once was?"
"No, we have no dragons, and even if we did, they need no place like this to dwell, for that was likely part of the reason for their decreased size over the generations. No," the prince said, sweeping his arms in a grand gesture, stifling the thought of how ridiculously stringy he might have looked were it not for his time in the training yard. "I have far, far grander plans for this place than to merely have it restored."
"Indeed, and many of them likely to be terribly expensive, or so I have been told," another voice said, not too far from them, and Baelor could not help the shock that wormed its way onto his face as he turned to meet the speaker.
"Uncle, cousin," he said. "I had not expected you to be here, I was told you had business in the city."
"Indeed I do, nephew, and my son deigned to escort me on these matters," the older Targaryen replied, his white cloak-wearing son close by his side. "This just so happens to be a part of such business, as I have only recently been able to make the time to find myself in this old ruin. Who is this with you, Baelor? His banner is one I do not immediately recognize."
Casper made a polite bow. "Lord Hand, I am Casper of House Wytch, of the Stormlands. It is an honor to meet you."
"It was his sept in Lowhill that first drew me to the stormy kingdom," Baelor added, knowing well that his uncle knew exactly what house his friend's sigil represented. He did not miss the way his uncle's frown deepened slightly at Casper's name either, and truthfully, this had been a meeting he had been dreading for some time. Daeron had not been exactly quiet during his discussion with the Hand on Baelor's friendship and focus on the Stormlands, and Viserys had equally been rather vocal on his worries to the king that, as Hand, he was most devoted to ensuring would never come to pass.
"I see," his uncle replied. "Then you are the one my nephew has had such frequent… contact with. Tell me, Lord Wytch, has the prince informed you of his plans for this former dragon's den?"
"We have exchanged ideas in the past, either in person during his times in Stormhall or through letters, though such talks can only go so far if you've never been to the place in question, and this is my first time in the capitol."
"Indeed, it is such a journey from the middle of the Stormlands to the seat of House Targaryen, I do not believe I have made such a journey myself in some time. Now that you are here in our city, Lord Wytch, pray tell, have you any wisdom for the prince? Even a man as young as yourself must surely have some ideas that prince has not formed of his own accord."
Internally, Baelor seethed. To insinuate that Casper planted every idea in his head, as if he were some easily led fool? Having merely seen what Lord Wytch had done with his lands had lit a fire in Baelor's belly, one that not even his uncle's denial of his Kingswood project years ago had managed to stamp out.
"Only that he proceeds with a clear goal in mind, and be resolute in his decision," Casper replied. "Any project, no matter their scope or importance, can become undone by unnecessary changes done in haste or without considering additional expenses. I faced much the same when I built the dam that has created the reservoir within my lands, and my wife learned from it so her own project, higher in the mountains, did not suffer from the same issues."
"Ah, good enough advice I suppose," Viserys said. "Baelor, so that I am not hearing from countless others your plans for this marred remnant of our dynasty's legacy, what do you truly wish to do here, upon Rhaenys' Hill?"
Baelor bit back a sigh, knowing the game his uncle was playing, but mustered his courage to forge ahead. "Not long ago, whilst in the court, I overheard more than a few foreign dignitaries discuss the lack of suitable entertainment in the city. Specifically, they thought mummers and the like was sorely lacking in the city, or at least those they would deem of higher quality than those put on merely for the smallfolk to enjoy."
"Essosi thinking we're backwards and possess low culture? Typical," Casper said.
Baelor nodded. "So, knowing full well that people with such… tastes would not wish to be associated with our smallfolk, I looked to where we could host such events. The Dragonpit, a symbol of our former might, was to me the best choice on where to create such a gathering place. I have not had the pleasure of traveling to Essos myself, let alone places of culture such as Braavos, but I would see our capitol be able to support much of the same as those places, as distant as they may be. A place of great culture, where tales and plays, sermons and weddings, great spectacles of martial prowess and philosophical discourse may be held. Aside from the great pit itself, there are forty great undervaults who as of now sit in silent squalor and decay." He slammed a fist into an open palm. "I would see this rot undone."
"A great boon to our city's future, as that of our house, no doubt," Viserys said with a nod. "Rather… ambitious, if the amount of funds needed to complete this is to be believed."
"Hence why I am paying for this from my own coffers, of the vast treasure hoard whose portion I claimed for myself."
"How fitting," Casper said, "that the greatest treasure in Dorne be used by their former enemies to build something for House Targaryen to be remembered for ages to come."
Baelor could not help his smile. "The irony is not lost on me, but for this all to work, as you said Lord Wytch, the planning and attention paid to my vision will be monumental. Every undervault that can be converted into one form or another must be done so with great care and planning, all of which is still being undertaken. As it stands, clearing out the vast amounts of rubble the late Tyland Lannister attempted to clean is still taking up much of the work yet remaining. In time, though, every vault shall have its own function, be it a great meeting hall for conclaves, storage, living quarters for the pit's caretakers, theaters, or a great deal more."
"Still, the expense of such things will be great, nephew. I have no doubt it will be all paid for through your means, but what of the expansions to unused vaults, or the upkeep? Will these grand visions of yours be able to support themselves, or will it fall to the crown to cover their expenses?"
"As the cost of construction will be greatly reduced, uncle, as it is already mostly built, and rather than starting from scratch, by working with what we have, it will not only reduce the cost, but encourage the renewal of this portion of the city. Great plays may be put on for the smallfolk at mere coppers per person, perhaps even just one apiece or per family. Yet with the numbers of men, women and children to gather, the amounts that will come in would no doubt be more than enough to pay for the wages of any man or woman working in the Dragonpit. We would only need just shy of ten and two thousand people being charged a single penny to make a single dragon, and the pit itself can hold eighty thousand, uncle, to say nothing of how many more could fit into the great undervaults."
"What's more is the prestige of working within the Dragonpit, no doubt," Casper added. "Far be it from me to assume history I never saw for myself, but the Dragonkeepers of old were a highly prestigious group, were they not? The same would be said for the future men and women who would service and maintain this gran plan of the prince, to say nothing of the additional incomes provided through selling foods and goods during such events."
"Ah, much like those festivals of yours the merchants speak of, or this tourney of my nephew the king," Viserys replied with a nod. "I see the two of you have given this much thought, especially as away of sealing a legacy for… House Targaryen, of course."
"Indeed, Lord Hand," Casper said. "Prince Baelor is entirely committed to creating a legacy, one I am glad to support as my leal prince and as a friend. I should only hope that future generations of all houses would seek to do the same."
Viserys smiled, though the prince saw it did not quite reach his eyes. "Be that as it may, it would seem your time in Stormhall has been of great boon to the both of you. In fact, would you be so kind as to dine with us tonight? Nothing grand as a great banquet, I assure you Lord Wytch, merely a smaller family gathering with close friends, many of whom are quite eager to hear of your time by Baelor's side during his… adventures in the Stormlands and Dorne."
Baelor could not believe his ears. His uncle, inviting Casper to dinner? This was not what he had expected, nor did it put him at ease. In fact, had his uncle not done so quicker, he would have invited Casper, only the thought that the context of the invitation came from the Lord Hand, and not the prince… changed everything.
"It would be my honor to dine with the king and his family," Casper said with a bow, unable to see the turmoil in Baelor's mind. "I have with me gifts for the king and his family, which I could present after supper, if you so wish?"
"Indeed, though I am certain you wish to spend more of your day with my nephew, and I would never wish to intrude on a time between such two good friends," Viserys replied, turning to the prince with a challenge in his eyes. "Until dinner then, Baelor?"
"Until… until dinner," Baelor affirmed with a nod. He could not ask his friend to refuse such a unheard-of invitation, nor could he openly challenge his uncle as to his motives. He was stuck, and he needed to make the best of the situation. "Goodbye uncle, cousin," he added, nodding to the silent Aemon. His cousin merely nodded in return before following the Lord Hand. He was glad the Kingsguard had not spoken, but had he not been in contact with Casper through Naerys? Or was that all some ploy by Viserys to gain his friend's trust?
The pit in Baelor's stomach mirrored that of the great pit he stood in as his kin mounted their horses and rode off. This was either going to be an incredibly awkward dinner, or it was going to not go well, as he did not believe it would go smoothly. His brother had at least met Casper before, however briefly, and seemed to acknowledge he was competent, but other than Naerys' letters… none of them had met his friend before, not his mother, nor his sisters, and especially not Aegon. Would they seek to embarrass him, or his friend? Would Casper be offended by the topics they would no doubt bring up, as a means of testing him? Or would they take offense to his friend's mindset, his origins, and see trouble brewing where there was none?
"My prince, are you all right?" Casper asked, a gentle hand on his shoulder shaking the dread from Baelor's eyes. "You seem shaken."
"I… I believe so, just…" he trailed off, turning back to his friend as the rubble continued to be cleared from the pit. "I was not expected my uncle to be the one to invite you tonight, my lord." The 'I was going to' was better left unsaid, as he doubted his friend could not make the connections he was.
"I figured as much from the look on your face. Anything I should be worried about in particular?"
"Not worried, I should hope, but more… to be cautious of. He has… ideas as to our friendship, ones that likely need very little evidence to confirm any of his more outlandish suspicions. No doubt Aegon has been spreading some rumors, given the lack of love we have for one another, but others will spread them without so much as a second thought, and how they can change does worry me. The gifts, are they appropriate for my family?"
"I would think so, as you gave me a great deal of ideas as to what to bring, but if you wish, we could meet again before we are to eat, just so that you know ahead of time which ones are for whom."
Baelor nodded. "That would be best, I think. I-,"
"My prince!" a voice called, causing the two of them to turn to one of the larger piles of rubble.
"Yes, foreman?"
"My prince, we found something under one of the larger chunks. Bits of bone and scales, by the look of things, likely from when Syrax crashed into the place."
Baelor nodded, following the man to the pile, Casper close behind him. Indeed, as a foul smell of old, dried decay wafted around him, he peered down at the rubble. Indeed, despite years of efforts during his father's reign, many dead were likely still buried under all this debris, be they from parts of dragons or the countless people that had died storming the Dragonpit itself. As part of his brother's approval of the project, the king had already laid claim to all dragonbone and similar materials they would find, citing them to be 'heirlooms' of their dynasty, so to find this would hopefully improve his brother's opinions of the project, and if only tangentially, his opinions of Lord Wytch by association.
Yet as Baelor peered into a gap in the rubble, he saw something… shiny. For a moment, it took him back to the handle of his great axe, seeing it down in the Undersand amidst a terrible battle, yet it was not quite the same. He had grown up hearing tales of the storming of the pit, and the death of the dragons, but could it… truly be…?
He reached his hand into the pile of rubble, grasped the hilt, and pulled.