Mid 110 AC – The Stepstones
Lord Corlys POV
He stood on the fore-deck of the ship, his sight set on the dimming smoke that likely had clouded the horizon less than a day ago, smoke that emanated from the ruins of their fortress they'd built on the northern cliff of Bloodstone.
Rage bubbled within him, an ugly look on his face as he stared at the ruins with eyes full of fury. This island was garrisoned with an army a thousand strong and with walls that should have seen the fortress stand for moons yet it fell within seven days after they'd sailed to the Last Refuge that once again fell prey to another attack by sea by a fleet that set off from Dorne or from Tyrosh.
He heard his brother Vaemond bellow out orders to his men, orders that were repeated on the other five and forty ships that sailed with him back to this rock once they 'pacified' the Last Refuge, and soon enough, near enough a hundred boats were set towards Bloodstone searching for any remnants of the enemy left in the surroundings though, Corlys thought bitterly, he highly doubted any of them remained on the Island, least of all anywhere that had the open sky above them.
Hours passed and by the time the twilight of the evening came, his men had returned. As expected, there were no signs of any survivors or enemies remaining, only corpses though most of the men who died, had died after they had surrendered to the enemy from the sounds of it.
It brought Corlys a small measure of pleasure to hear the traitors died a gruesome death, their bodies cut apart and laid out for the birds and animals to feed upon.
These had been Daemon's most well paid sellsword army and they'd been most eager to sit out of the fighting to retake the islands, their only task being to hold the island at all costs.
'One less sellswords army to pay'
Mayhaps the last sellsword army to pay. Good riddance.
Only the moment of pleasure only lasted a trifle of time though and it did nothing to quell the anger that raged in his heart as he threw the silver goblet against the hardwood table, the sharp cluttering of the sound silencing all of the men's arguments and complaints in his cabin with immediate effect.
"Enough." Corlys said with a sharp voice, his tone tinging with heavy anger, his eyes setting on his nephews Daeron and Rhogar before his eyes travelled to his vassals who came aboard his ship. "This…this is enough." Corlys said with a deadly calm washing over him, the storm that had brewed within that left him stewing suddenly having lost its violence and its tempestuousness.
No more.
So much gold spent…
So much gold wasted…
Curse the Triarchy. Curse the filthy Dornish. Curse the damn Targaryens!
He had enough.
Years…years he spent on these worthless rocks and years has he spent his gold and his men on this damnable war only to lose more and more with every day that passed!
"We won't be able to hold these islands." Corlys continued as the men in his cabin remained silent and waiting for him to speak. The acceptance was bitter but Corlys had to accept it for what it was. His pride was harmed but he knew when a cause was lost.
"We let it slip through our fingers." The words only barely passed through his mouth, only the small comfort that this loss came not at his own hands pushed it through for him to admit their failure.
'No, this was not on me. None of it was on me. All of this lays before the feet of Viserys with his folly and Daemon was not blameless either.' Corlys thought bitterly.
Daemon had been a problem at the beginning, preferring to wield Dark Sister than he did ride Caraxes, the desire to be the one who took the head of Crabfeeder causing them to manoeuvred around by the corsairs island from island.
Many of their men, Velaryon men and sellsword men alike, had died fruitlessly in the first year and even when Daemon acknowledged the need of him prowling the skies and burn away their ships, preventing their easy escape, the circumventing of their forces on the islands had been a persistent issue.
Only later, when they finally decided to remain patient with their conquest and hired Volantene captains with the gold of the Braavosi to aid in the blockade, had they managed to truly secure the islands against their enemies. They starved out the filth island by island until all of the major and minor islands were cleared for good, no more were the caves a safe refuge from which to resist them.
A mocking smile threatened to form on his face as he remembered the moment that led to Daemon beginning to listen to his council, and he would cherish it always.
News of the Basilisk Isles and the fate that had befallen it at the hands of Prince Aegon the Elder, in what was 'the Culling of the Basilisk Isles' as it was named moons later, had sent Daemon into a jealous filled rage that almost saw the man climb onto Caraxes and fly to Tyrosh to burn it to the ground.
Only his words of warning against it, warnings that hinted to exile and assassination should he burn down a Free City, had stayed the dangerous Prince.
Truthfully, he'd feared the consequences to Driftmark's trade should the war extend beyond the borders of the Stepstones, the very last thing he wanted and the very reason he convinced Daemon to act in the Stepstones.
And equally truthfully, even if he would admit it only to himself, he regretted warning Daemon away from attacking the Triarchy directly given what has happened now, emboldened as they were with the shackles Viserys had placed on them.
He was sure they had known that Viserys would not permit them to act against the Triarchy, or the Dornish, and now, it had all fallen apart. Only moons after he crowned Daemon as King of the Stepstones, fresh fleets carrying thousands of men arrived to these accursed islands from the ports of Tyrosh, never numbered more than five and twenty in any fleet, enough to carry men to take islands and few enough ships to hide in the many wide bays of hundreds of islands, and the conflict they thought they'd won suddenly restarted, as if it never once ended, wiser and far better stocked and informed than the corsairs they'd been fighting before.
Six islands, one of them being Wreckstone, in the northeastern side had fallen within days of one another, the garrisons they'd left behind had to abandon the islands or were killed to a man.
It was the beginning of a struggle that made the previous years of war seem as if it had been nothing more than the trifling raids that took place in the Marshes.
No matter how effective, Corlys sneered in his mind, Daemon had been in burning whatever fleet that he managed to catch – five fleets thus far – the ships kept on coming and the task of starving out the Triarchy men on the islands they barricaded themselves in, stocked with supplies and food to last them for more than a year, had become completely ruinous as even with Braavosi backed gold and whatever meagre gold Viserys supplied them could not bring them the men they needed to fully pacify the islands nor was it nearly enough to hold them against thousands.
'And Bloodstone, an island that possessed a fourth of their army, could not even last the week before they fell against the Triarchy'
"Prince Daemon won't be happy." His nephew Rhogar by his deceased brother Jacaerys, said with a fretful expression and it stoked the calming storm within him back into fury.
"I do not give a damn if Daemon will be happy or not!" Corlys bellowed angrily as he fixed an icy glare at his nephew, choosing to keep the more deserved words he wished to curse Daemon with to himself…for now.
Daemon may not be as responsible for this failure as Viserys but he was a culpable factor in this failed conquest.
"Leave! All of you except my brother." Corlys said with disgust in his voice, his face turning away from the men before him. They all left and soon enough he was left alone with his brother who had kept silent through much of the arguments that had been going on before he'd thrown his goblet.
"Nothing to say?" Corlys questioned as he stared at his brother.
His brother gave a thin smile before he shrugged "I happen to agree." Vaemond eyed him carefully before he continued to speak. "Given you're disinclined to involve Laenor in this war"
Corlys shot his brother a hard look at the mention of his heir, a look that once would have left his brother cowed but now left him unfazed as a consequence of being battle-hardened. "I do not see us winning this war with the rules we're bound to and even, we do not have the men to keep these islands."
Vaemond scowled slightly as he leaned back in his chair. "I doubt even the number of men on Driftmark, young and old, would be enough to secure these islands."
With Dorne to the west, Tyrosh and Myr to the east, all of them allied in cause, the chance of them securing these worthless isles were practically non-existent.
That much was clear and laughably, any infighting between these damnable enemies was brought to a low with their presence in the Stepstones.
"No." Corlys shook his head "Even if we recalled my men back to the Isles and levied more of the island's commonfolk, we'd only lose more of them in the long run." He'd sent back half of his ships and three-fifths of his men back to Driftmark when he'd crowned Daemon.
He was glad for it, truth be told.
The fewer men made had him cautious and chances were that he would have lost a good bulk of them before he could admit failure.
"So we sail back tonight then." Vaemond said after a few moments of silence and Corlys clenched the back of the chair before he sighed and nodded.
"Aye. It's time. I'll send a ship to Daemon in courtesy." Corlys said with a twisted and wry smile which made Vaemond snort.
"Make sure to send a captain you won't miss." Vaemond muttered and Corlys sighed knowingly.
"Planned on it already." Corlys answered with a tiredness washing over him before he took a seat.
"He won't give it up, will he?" Vaemond questioned him and Corlys looked up to meet his brother's gaze.
"Nay. Not for some time at least. He'll see this as betrayal and the man is driven by his emotions." Corlys paused for a moment before he continued. "It'll suit us well to keep supplying Daemon and his sellswords, for a time anyway."
"You're thinking of keeping the door open with the Prince?" Vaemond pondered aloud, one of his eyebrows raised. "He is many things but dull he is not. He'll see it for what it is."
"Perhaps he will see it." Corlys conceded "But he will also know that I am the only one he can still call ally. The Braavosi stopped their funding when they discovered Daemon was crowned and that gold will soon run out, if it has not already."
"Hiring the Volantene, their most bitter enemy, was fine but it is too much when a crown touches a head." Vaemond said with a laugh.
"They probably wanted to pull their support for some time. The crowning of Daemon was the right moment without any loss of face or duplicitous mutterings." Corlys said to his brother. Plus, he mused to himself, the economic war they played with Myr had paid off and now there was not a place in Westeros or Essos that did not purchase Braavosi glass instead of Myrish glass.
One of his contacts in Pentos relayed information to him as well that Myrish ships that sailed the Narrow Sea were inexplicably 'lost' at sea and he did not find it difficult to believe that the Braavosi were using them as cover to truly harm the Myrish to the point that they were willing to turn away their gazes from Braavosi ships which must have succeeded.
'And from what I am hearing from back home, the previous Sealord who died four moons ago was also used as a political sacrifice to explain away the 'waste of coin'' Corlys thought with a grimace.A mess that he'd need to deal with as well given that his daughter was betrothed to the man's heir.
Corly shook his head. "No matter." He said before adding "Daemon will have no reason to spite me." Daemon would be reluctant, yes, but nevertheless, he'd allow Corlys' ships to pass through the passes under his control. It would give Corlys time to continue re-establish his trade beyond the Narrow Sea. A few words of promise here and there would be enough to keep up the hope that Corlys may continue to aid him later. Of course, he would not nor did he think Daemon would not recognise that his conquest was folly, sooner or later, thus freeing Corlys from any perceived obligation…
"The Seven know Daemon has no one else beside me or Viserys to call ally." Corlys said with a note of bitterness in his voice and his brother picked up on it.
"We're soon to return to the Realm, brother. You'll have to address the King by his title lest he takes your tongue." Vaemond japed and Corlys laughed and it was not friendly, not a single bit. Viserys acting like a true man with a spine? Pah!
Pigs would sooner fly than that ever happening.
Gods, there was only one man still living that Corlys loathed more than he loathed Viserys and there were moments he truly hated Viserys more than he ever had hated the smug Hightower cunt.
He hoped Jaehaerys looked up from the Seven Hells with dismay at what he caused to happen to the Iron Throne. A man that was as ill-suited to the throne as Aenys ever was but unfortunately, there was no Faith Militant to stoke up rebellion in the Realm and send Viserys to an early grave.
To think that Viserys came from the seed of Baelon the Brave…
He may have been aggrieved on behalf of his wife when Jaehaerys had passed over his wife in favour of Baelon, but he'd grudgingly respected it…after some time.
But Viserys?
A man that he'd thought to be unworthy to be King and his actions since he'd been crowned only understated his unworthiness, that useless, worthless, sack of flesh and bones…
Anyone with a measure of wisdom would know the dangers of letting the Stepstones fall in the hands of the Triarchy but the fool preferred to listen to the snake in his ear, urging caution when Driftmark and Kings Landing were suffering heavy loss with the tolls and the loss of ships in the Stepstones.
Even now, when the involvement of the Free Cities and Dorne were unmistakable, with ample proof provided to the Red Keep, Viserys still refused to act in any capacity. And now, it was clear to see that without bringing the might of the realm against the Triarchy and Dorne, the Stepstones would only fall into their hands.
But no, the fool considered the words out of the Hightower as if they were absolute truth and not the poison that they truly were. Gods, it would be laughable if it were not so dire that such a self-serving cunt was the only man who had Viserys' ear.
Corlys shook his head, banishing away the pointlessly angry thoughts and he got up. "Inform the fleet that we are to sail back." The journey would do well to clear his mind before he returned home.
Vaemond got up and left to do as he'd bid and he was left on his lonesome in his cabin and he began to think on his plans going forward.
He knew the Stepstones would fall into enemy hands but he knew he could…manage the problem if he played it smartly. He glanced at the map that lay on the table and his gaze veered towards the south.
Aegon the Elder.
Ever since his victory in the Basilisk Isles, his ships had increased their trade many folds more than they had been. Yes, he knew that the wayward prince was trading with slaver cities, but that matter not to him. What mattered to him was that Aegon the Elder rarely traded with Westeros.
He knew he could work out an agreement with the prince that could help him recuperate his losses in a substantial way. He just needed an opportunity and he knew exactly where to get such an agreement.
A trio of Celtigar ships had been allowed to pass through Velaryon controlled passes a moon ago and he found out that the ships were headed to the Summer Isles…to the wayward Targaryens that roosted there.
Why exactly, he did not know but he could guess at the reason…and he did not think he was guessing wrongly given that the Celtigars offered little outside of their blood.
Bartimos Celtigar, heir to Claw Isle, had two daughters, one of them only a few years younger than the eldest sons of Aegon and the other daughter old enough that the wait for her flowering would not be severe.
The younger brother, Aethan Celtigar, who was aboard the Celtigar ships, also had daughters to marry off and his wife was half Sunglass, half Darklyn, both Houses that had traces of Valyrian blood in their veins, even if it was diluted.
Corlys tapped the hardwood table with his finger as he stared at the map. He'd half forgotten about Aegon the Elder, and his family, until the Basilisk Isles, likely many of the realm had done so too. When Aegon the Elder departed, refusing the lordship offered by Viserys, he'd thought the boy foolish in letting a good opportunity go because of his unwillingness to swallow the slights when it hindered him and his legacy.
But now…
He was wondering if it had not been an inspired choice, much like his choice to sail to the farthest corners of the Known World in his youth when no heir would dared to risk it.
The numbers of ships that carry his flag were said to be larger than any other fleet, ships in his fleets that were larger than even the Ibbanese whaling ships…
That coupled with the rumours that this Corinth was home to tens of thousands of people, many of whom were freed slaves and of Valyrian stock, all producing sellable goods like the porcelain he'd begun selling in the last days before his departure from Dragonstone…
His wealth must rival that of House Velaryon presently. Wealth that he would not have earned himself had he remained in Westeros.
Mayhaps Aegon the Elder gambled on the idea that the lordship would still be on offer should he return, having earned his wealth through illicit trading, returning with tens of thousands of people loyal to his family, with five dragons under his control, likely more with Liāzmariña, the queerly named she-dragon, at an age that it would sooner or later lay a clutch.
The likelihood that every child of Aegon the Elder having a dragon of their own was disturbingly high.
Corlys chuckled to himself before he shook his head. And had Aegon the Elder not made himself known in the Basilisk Isles, such a realisation may well have been missed by him and others.
Corlys' chuckle petered out as he continued to stare at the map, his finger having stopped tapping.
Allying himself with the third born Targaryen son of Baelon through trade and marriage is the best option available at present once he rid himself of the unworthy Braavosi he was stuck with and in return he'd get a family of dragonriders with
Castorys, he recalled the name of Aegon's heir being. The boy should be nearing one and ten namedays old, only a few years away from being able to marry. His Leana may be eight namedays older than the boy, but it was no matter.
Yes…he mused to himself. He could see House Velaryon recovering both in wealth and in power with an alliance with the Aegon branch of House Targaryen.
Truthfully, it was his only route to maintain his influence in the realm with Princess Rhaenyra, the only blockage the Hightower cunt cannot unblock much to Corlys pleasure, being out of his reach with her betrothal to Daemon's son Baelon.
Corlys scowled lightly. Jaehaerys had spited him with that betrothal, he knew from the centre of his heart. Rumours of Aemma's infertility had been circling for some time before Jaehaerys had forced Daemon to perform his duties…
Corlys shook his head. No. Princess Rhaenyra was out of his reach. He'd considered mayhaps causing an 'accident' to Daemon to pave the way for Laenor but he suspected that nothing short of Baelon dying would allow for such a thing and he was not so craven to cause the death of a boy, even if he was Daemon's son.
Aegon the Elder's heir will do for him and it was doubtlessly the same for Aegon the