After parting ways with Queen Alicent, Prince Aegon sent for Ser Tyland Lannister in private.
Maegor's Holdfast, Aegon's Private Study
Tyland sat with his back straight, his golden hair catching the light from the hearth.
This was the first time Prince Aegon had summoned him alone, a silent recognition that he was now among the prince's confidants.
"I remain grateful," Aegon began, his tone smooth but cool, "that Lord Tymond lent his voice to His Majesty during the Great Council of 101 AC."
At his gesture, a maid poured wine into silver goblets. Aegon raised his glass, and Tyland hurried to mirror him.
"Your Highness need not thank me," Tyland replied with a courtly smile. "The Lannisters are a family of tradition. My brother and I merely follow the example of our father."
The meaning beneath his words was plain enough: As our father supported King Viserys, so shall we support you.
"I trust you," Aegon said simply. "The Lannisters have ever been pillars of the realm."
"Your praise honors us, Your Highness," Tyland replied, his grin bright and measured.
After a few more pleasantries, Aegon's tone shifted. "Tell me, what do you make of His Majesty's latest arrangements?"
Tyland took a sip of wine, gauging the young prince's expression. Finding no hint of change, he spoke carefully. "I think His Majesty acts unilaterally. Any man with eyes can see he wishes to send you from King's Landing, to clear the way for Princess Rhaenyra."
He paused, then leaned forward slightly. "What puzzles me, Your Highness, is that you do not seem surprised. Did you already know?"
Aegon chuckled softly. "Of course I knew. I even know how many bites of bread His Majesty took this morning… and how many sips of milk followed."
Tyland's eyelids twitched. Seven hells… he even knows that? No wonder King Viserys means to send him away. This boy's reach over King's Landing is perhaps already greater than his father's.
He swallowed discreetly, masking his unease with another sip of wine.
"Then what are Your Highness's intentions?" he asked, his thumb rubbing the joint of his finger.
"I see an opportunity, a rare one." Aegon's voice hardened. "But I will need allies. I must drive the foreign powers from the Stepstones."
Tyland's eyes gleamed with sudden understanding.
"Your Highness may rest easy," he said at once. "I have already written to my brother. When I return, I shall send another letter. You will not wait long before our support arrives."
"Good." Aegon clapped him firmly on the shoulder. "Once the Stepstones are cleared, the Lannisters shall be exempt from all transit taxes for three years."
The "transit tax"- in truth, a toll- would surely be high once Aegon ruled the Stepstones. He might later choose to lower it, perhaps after the Dance itself, but for now it would stand.
Tyland, however, did not flinch.
For House Lannister, such coin was trifling. What mattered far more were the returns, the political fortune that would come should Aegon one day wear the crown.
Three Days Later
The Reach- Oldtown
"I received Alicent's letter," said Ormund. "The supplies for Aegon are ready, Uncle."
He and Otto stood together upon the quays of Oldtown, watching sailors load cargo by torchlight. Twenty stout ships bobbed in the harbor.
"This is but the first shipment," Ormund continued, perhaps a touch abashed. "Four more fleets will follow. In all, five thousand suits of armor, two hundred thousand gold dragons, a thousand sailors, and enough provisions and arms to fill the Stepstones. I have also gathered craftsmen, masons, carpenters, smiths, for the fortifications."
"So much?" Otto's brows lifted. Even for Oldtown, richest city in the realm, rivaling King's Landing in size, the generosity was notable.
"It is no excess," Mond insisted. "If Prince Aegon holds the Stepstones, it will benefit Oldtown as much as the crown. That place is chaos, blood and piracy. Aegon's presence may bring order. "He hesitated, lowering his voice. "Besides… nothing must befall him. Not there."
Oldtown's harbor teemed with trade, ships from the Free Cities, the Summer Isles, even Qarth, all laden with silk and spice. The wars in the Stepstones had hurt them as much as they had the Velaryons, though the Hightowers' vast holdings made them less desperate.
Ormund Hightower, born in 102 AC, had inherited Oldtown young. Otto had tutored him for years, and the boy had grown to revere his uncle. Now, with Aegon's star rising, Ormund spared no expense. To be stingy now would be folly, a rope about the Hightowers' own necks.
"Uncle," Ormund said, "you will depart with the fleet. I have arranged all. Take Lyonel with you, he is of age to serve as cupbearer. Let him learn by your side."
Lyonel Hightower, born in 115 AC, was Ormund's eldest son by his late first wife. He had two younger brothers, Martyn and Garmond, and a sister, Bethany.
Otto nodded. "Lyonel is a fine boy. Worth grooming."
Ormund hesitated. "Alicent writes that Aegon commands great influence in King's Landing. Is that true?"
Otto frowned slightly. "So she says. But I find it hard to believe that a boy of thirteen could wield such power."
"Still," Ormund mused, "we shall see soon enough."
The Westerlands- Lannisport
"My lord, as you commanded, twenty great ships, fifteen hundred men, one hundred and fifty thousand gold dragons, and ample provisions."
The maester recited the tally from his parchment.
"Too little, perhaps?" mused Lord Jason Lannister, a flicker of doubt crossing his handsome features.
"For the Westerlands, it is modest," said the maester. "You could afford more."
"Then prepare two more of the same." Jason's jaw set with sudden resolve. "If we are to wager, let it be for a prize worth the risk."
He exhaled slowly. "Aegon… may you prove as capable as Tyland claims. As strong as the Conqueror himself, or else I will be the poorer for it."
Backing a claimant was always a gamble, and none greater than between Aegon and Rhaenyra. But should Aegon ascend, the rewards would dwarf any loss.
"Send my order," Jason said at last. "Loren and Tybolt are to lead fifteen warships to the Stepstones and join Prince Aegon's campaign."
Warships were a treasure of far greater worth than merchant carracks. Their crews, seasoned sailors and trained fighters, were not easily replaced. To send them was no mere gesture of loyalty.
It was a declaration of allegiance.
------------
A/N:War is coming.And in the shadows, the ones who pull the strings are already moving their pieces.
Read 19 advanced chapters on Patreon, the first two are completely free!
patreon.com/Captain_Lag