Chapter 26: Two Councils

291 AC. Valyrian Empire. Astapor. Gardens near the Pyramid of House Targaryen.

The sky today was overcast with a shroud of clouds, pouring heavy streams of rain onto the streets of Astapor. Large drops beat the dust and mud into the stone roads, gathering into rivulets that eagerly rushed in streams along the gutters.

The garden by my pyramid was also transformed. The dense greenery trembled under the force of the storm, the songbirds had long since flown from their habitual places in search of shelter, and small creatures had hidden in burrows from the unpleasant weather.

I, along with my companions, was protected by the roof of the large arbor where we were gathered. It, like several others, stood on a stone foundation. A red granite floor served as the base for carved columns supporting a pink cedar roof. A round table with wicker chairs stood in the center of the structure, and the raindrops didn't reach us, falling powerlessly onto the floor a few feet from our feet.

A detailed map of Slaver's Bay and the surrounding lands was spread out on an absolutely white tablecloth, and both I and my companions were now leaning over it.

“Two-thirds of the enemy army is currently in Meereen,” Veela placed two black pieces on the map. “The majority of ships are sailing across the bay waters towards Yunkai from Mantarys, Tolos, and Elyria. The ships are carrying supplies, sellswords, and weapons. The fleet will arrive in Yunkai in no more than twenty days, by which time the army assembled in Meereen will already be in Yunkai’s lands.” Pausing to moisten her dry throat with juice from her goblet, the young woman continued, “Thus, the combined enemy force will advance from Yunkai in a month. Another couple of months on the road, and they will be at the walls of Astapor.” Veela concluded her report and moved the black pieces representing ships and soldiers toward our city.

“The size and composition of the forces?” Willem Darry asked thoughtfully, stroking his beard.

“An acquaintance, a merchant, whispered about slingers hired in Tolos. Two thousand excellently equipped fighters,” Oberyn Martell informed us.

I hummed at this statement, and Veela glanced predatorily at the Red Viper, making him visibly pale. It seemed my head of intelligence would soon be beating the names of informants working for Dorne out of the Dornishman.

“Tolos is the most belligerent of those three former Valyrian colonies. I believe Mantarys and Elyria will provide no more than three thousand warriors,” Zirarro stated.

“That makes five thousand sellswords from Meereen and Yunkai’s allies,” Narvos drank from his cup of brandy and scratched the stubble on his chin.

“A total of forty-two thousand warriors,” Veela said, which made Darry choke on his wine.

“Forty-two thousand? Where did that come from? Those bastards had no more than thirty thousand recently!” the bald knight demanded, staring at the head of intelligence.

“The report arrived last night, and I decided to announce the news at today’s meeting,” Veela shrugged her shoulders and grimaced in dissatisfaction. “The greater part of the Golden Company answered the call and was secretly transported to Yunkai.”

“May those exiles die in a ditch! They dream of returning to Westeros, yet for a handful of gold, they march against a Targaryen,” Willem snarled viciously.

“Meereen and Yunkai don't have that many available galleys. Have these golden boys learned to walk on water?” Narvos frowned.

“Pentos, for a considerable reward, leased out a portion of its fleet. Thank the gods the contract was only for ferrying the sellswords and not for combat operations,” Veela replied.

“And what’s the result? Against such a horde, even if mostly composed of rabble, the walls of Astapor will not stand. They will simply crush us with sheer numbers.” Daeron moved away from the table and began pacing back and forth, like a tiger in a cage.

“We have only twenty-eight thousand warriors, including the Unsullied and the soldiers of New Ghis. Our fleet is one and a half times smaller.” Daemon was more restrained than his brother and merely offered a soft smile. “Two legions and our Unsullied can oppose the Golden Company, the Lord’s warrior eunuchs, and the elite sellswords. This leaves only the warriors of New Ghis in reserve, and they are equipped worse than our legions. Furthermore, some of them will remain to guard our lands; no more than five thousand will go into battle. Five thousand against twenty.”

“The legionaries of New Ghis are strong. They can hold off the attack of the hastily trained slave militia they'll be pitted against,” Grazdan mo Lorkhaz, heir of House Lorkhaz, interjected.

“However, a quarter of that rabble will consist of sellswords from the former Valyrian colonies, and what’s more, we need to win, not just hold them off,” Darry rebuked the young man.

“Don’t forget the fleet; the enemy's is one and a half times larger than ours,” Narvos contributed to the grim mood of my men, with Zirarro nodding in agreement.

Having listened to the opinions of my men, who argued for a good twenty minutes about whether to launch an offensive or play defensively, I walked right up to the map and pointed to the spot I needed.

“As far as I know, there is only one road from Yunkai to Astapor, and it runs along the coast.” The arguments instantly died down.

“Yes, my friend. To the east of the road are impassable mountains, and to the west lies the bay. It’s the only route,” Oberyn looked at the map and continued, “I think their fleet will sail along the shore and resupply the enemy camp with provisions during their nightly halts.”

“Right here, halfway between Yunkai and Astapor, the Horns of Hazzat mountain range hugs the road tightly, and to the west, directly across from this spot, lies the uninhabited Yaros Isle,” I drew my finger across the map.

Glancing at the men who had gathered closer, I continued.

“The road makes a sharp bend there due to the forest, and it’s quite narrow. It’s an excellent place for a battle that will be unexpected for the enemies, where their numerical advantage won’t play a large role, unlike our qualitative superiority.”

“There are three places better suited for such a maneuver. I was also going to suggest such an option when these youngsters had finished shouting themselves hoarse,” Willem Darry looked at me approvingly.

“Yes, Teacher, there are. But this particular spot is right next to the coast, where Yaros Isle creates a pinch point. If Narvos's assumption is correct, and I think our fleet commander is right, the enemy ships will find themselves between the island and the shore, as they need to supply the army with provisions from their holds. A baggage train for such a massive host is too expensive a pleasure, even for the Masters of Meereen and Yunkai.”

“Ha! A baggage train for a forty-thousand-strong army would require so many horses, carts, and oxen that the Masters would have to hire a couple of Dothraki Khalasars!” Daemon clapped his hands.

“Correct. In this spot, we can give battle to the enemy army; the advantage is on our side. Moreover, the enemy fleet can be trapped…”

“…from all sides. East and west are land, and the south and north will be blocked by our galleys,” Zirarro finished for me.

“And the numerical superiority of their ships will be nullified by the dragon. Wood and sails burn so beautifully in Avero's flame…” I smiled meaningfully, and in response, I received similar smiles from my cheered-up companions.

“I think the details should be discussed tomorrow, in the company of some centurions and tribunes. The road runs next to a forest on one side; that can be used…” Willem finished in a whisper, immersed in his own thoughts.

“For now, I propose we resolve the issue of the baggage train. Our army isn't exactly small either, in case anyone forgot,” Grazdan mo Lorkhaz settled back into his chair.

******

291 AC. Valyrian Empire. Astapor. Pyramid of House Targaryen.

“I declare the council on faith and gods open,” I proclaimed, settling more comfortably on the throne.

The large stone hall inside my pyramid was illuminated by the light of dozens of torches, and golden chandeliers with hundreds of wax candles hung from the ceiling. Air currents entering through the wide windows provided excellent ventilation for the room, and outside, the sun was already setting below the horizon.

Opposite my throne, several tables were arranged in a semicircle, behind which sat richly dressed representatives of various religions. Three priests from each faith. Behind my back stood a quartet of Praetorians, and elite warriors were also positioned along the walls. Lorik Raidshield stood at my right hand, keenly observing the assembly, ready to give a command to the Praetorians at any moment.

The guests who had been flocking to Astapor over the last week were quite colorful. The first table was occupied by two men and one woman. A stout, elderly man twirled a gold signet ring on his index finger and eyed the priests of other religions with distaste. His companions, like him, wore silver pendants around their necks in the shape of a seven-pointed star.

The second table was occupied by the priestesses of the Harpy. They were led by Radaghra Izhaar, who stared straight at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes, while concealing her face behind a gold mask. The two women on either side of her surveyed the other delegations with interest.

Sitting at the third table were two women and one man in red robes. The priesthood of R’hllor had also arrived at the meeting.

The fourth table was not occupied by priests at all, but by ordinary warriors. A bearded Northman dressed in expensive brocade and a couple of centurions from my legions. These were representatives of the faith in the Old Gods, which, in principle, has no official servants or priests.

Seated at the last, fifth table were silver-haired men dressed in togas. Priests of the Fourteen Gods of Valyria, who had arrived from Volantis. They were led by Rhaegar Paeminion, whom I already knew and who had participated in my coronation.

“I have invited all of you to draft the law on faith and religion,” I continued, sweeping my gaze over the assembled. “The foundation of the law has already been drawn up; we only need to incorporate certain details. Also, it would be beneficial if the priests of the gods whose worship will be permitted in the Valyrian Empire could come to an agreement among themselves and harbor no enmity, for I have no intention of allowing religious strife in my lands. You have already familiarized yourselves with the text, and I wish to hear your word. Let Septon Amarys Waters, a member of the Most Devout, speak first.”

“Greetings, Emperor Viserys Targaryen,” the portly man with graying hair stood and bowed. “King Robert Baratheon, like the Small Council of the Seven Kingdoms, was against any negotiations with you, but the High Septon, in his wisdom, still directed me to you, so that the light of the faith in the Seven might illuminate its faithful in the Valyrian Empire as well. We understand the necessity of other priests and temples in your country; after all, few of my brothers and sisters could bring the spark of the faith to such distant lands. I only hope that in time, lost souls will see the right path; the Seven will not abandon them! We agree not to engage in any armed conflicts, only religious disputes. There is no sense in forcing people to pray with fire and sword; they would not be sincere. I only rely on your protection should any persecution of the truly faithful begin.” Concluding his speech, the Septon bowed once more and took his seat.

Smiling at the Septon, I turned to the next table and nodded.

“I greet everyone gathered here and thank Your Grace for the invitation,” a muffled voice came from behind Radaghra Izhaar's mask. “The lands of the former Ghiscari Empire originally lived under the hand of the Great Harpy. But we, the priestesses of the Harpy, understand that time flows like water and changes the course of all things. The Valyrian Empire is home to believers not only of our religion but many others. We are not opposed to the temples and priests of other gods, provided, of course, they do not oppose us. I agree with the new law.”

Next, a thin man with hollow eyes and a short beard stood up. Red silk covered his body, and a gold chain was wrapped around his left arm, which I understood to be the symbol of some high clergy among these fanatics. I don't particularly distinguish between different types of madmen.

“I will speak against it!” he began sullenly. “Your law determines whether a given entity is a demon or a god. But you call the gods to whom human sacrifices are offered vile demons! You denounce the true and only god, the savior, our Great Fiery and Light-Bringer R’hllor, as a demonic entity! The victims burned in the sacred flame have their souls purified, not ‘sent to feed,’ as you put it in your heretical papers.” Sitting down, the priest cast an angry glance at everyone assembled and fell silent.

Ha! If not for the Praetorians, who were menacingly rocking their spears, he would have readily resorted to threats. He didn't even offer the simple compromise of not making sacrifices to his little god within the territory of the Ghiscari Empire. Well, no matter; these fanatics were invited to the council purely for formality. I never planned for any friendship with the bastards who burn women and children on their pyres. Tomorrow, they will have to hastily abandon my domains, or my legions will gladly slaughter that filth.

“The Old Gods have no priests, so I will speak as the chosen representative of all believers who are in Astapor,” the hefty, bearded Northman rose, one of the largest fur suppliers in Slaver's Bay. “Your Grace, we had no persecution before, and we are glad to avoid it in the future. The Old Gods have long ceased to demand human sacrifice, as they did in the Age of Heroes.” Stroking his beard, the man stood solidly with his hands on his hips, his thick gold chain clinking. “The Godswood, where the weirwood trees grow, is on land purchased from the city two centuries ago. It is kept clean and orderly, and the society of believers pays its land tax promptly, so I see no problems with the new law. It's high time to clamp down on these crazy fanatics,” the Northman finished his speech, which made the R’hllor priest turn red.

“Then it is my turn to speak,” Rhaegar Paeminion stood. His silver-sheen white hair was tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. A neat beard concealed some of the wrinkles that lined his face. The sleeves of his snow-white toga with bright crimson trim ended at his elbows. The left forearm of the elderly Senior Priest of Vhagar was wrapped with obsidian beads, which had exactly fourteen spheres. If you looked closely, you could discern the red hieroglyph of the Valyrian language on one of them, denoting the name of the god he serves. His muscular figure, slightly softened by age, only complemented the image of the old warrior who had become a servant of the god of war.

“It is an honor for me to stand once again before him who resurrected the dragons,” the Valyrian began with dignity, with his companions nodding in agreement. “I am glad that the scion of the ancient and noble House Targaryen intends to raise temples in his Empire. We do not offer human sacrifice to our gods; only mages execute criminals in Volantis for the sake of their potions and rituals.” The Valyrian winked at me. “Thus, we are not against this law.” Rhaegar Paeminion bowed his head with dignity and sat back down in his chair.

“Very well, I have heard your word,” I announced gravely. “Those of you who agree with the law shall sign the document, and the heralds shall announce the results of our council and the new law tomorrow at noon. I notify all others, the dissenters: You must leave the Valyrian Empire without delay! Otherwise, I shall drive you out with sword and fire.” Rising to my feet, I concluded my speech, “Fire and Blood!”

“Fire and Blood!” the Praetorians roared in unison.