Chapter 88

We sailed two weeks out from King's Landing to get to Bloodstone. Calm Seas bereft of pirates meant that the trip was fairly uneventful. We of course had to drop off Ser Loras, Ser Roger, and Saalhador Saan, while Jalhabar Xho was taking a refit Swan Ship back to Red Flower Vale from Bloodstone Port. Honestly, by the time we got back to Bloodstone Port and finished off-loading everything, I was more than ready to see my wife for the first time in a long time.

Speaking of Brienne, I found her practicing in the Yard. As she took her Bastard Sword and dispatched three of the Guards at a time, I couldn't help but admire her form. Clearly, the time I'd spent away had been put to good use by Brienne scraping the rust off her skills, after having to spend so much time pregnant and then recovering from Quentyn's Birth. I knew she'd been a bit self-conscious the last few months over needing to build her skills back up.

As she parried a blow by one of the Guards she was sparring with and slipped another at the same time, I knew that those skills would not be left wanting when the Civil War finally did break out. Brienne bulled ahead after the Third Guard, parrying his attempt to cut out at her and breaking his stance with a shoulder check, he went sprawling to the ground even as Brienne ducked a cut from the Second Guard and cut out at the First Guard's Legs in a blow that would have gone between cuisse and greave to cut the tendons in the side of the knee had they been fighting with real weapons. As if to add insult to injury, Brienne popped back up and slammed the crossguard of her bastard sword into the front of the First Guard's Helmet, sending him to the courtyard flagstones.

The last Guard Tried to strike her with a fendente cut, aiming to split her from tooth to hip diagonally, but Brienne not only stepped aside from the attack but in doing so managed to bring her blade around to cut at the wrists of the Last Guard in what I would call a textbook Krumphau but which the Swordmasters of Norvos called the Swinging Door Strike. The Last Guard stepped away, dropped his practice blade, and yielded, acknowledging the hit.

As Brienne doffed her helm I started clapping. She turned around, a look of anger on her face, which immediately softened on seeing that it was me who was applauding. She still must have felt on some level like she would be mocked by people for pursuing the study of swordsmanship, which was a thought that made me want to rush over to her and fold her in a big hug. I couldn't though, not in public. The people very much needed to see us present an image of unflappability, especially with the Civil War looming. Brienne being unsure of herself and needing reassurance from her husband would shake that image.

"Brilliant, Love. I daresay you've shaken the last bit of rust off and are as powerful and deadly as ever. Moreso even." I praised.

"Not in front of the Guards." Protested Brienne.

"Nonsense, if they don't know how much in awe I continually am at you by now, then I'll eat Vizimir's hat." I grinned.

"You say that now, but you've not seen the state he keeps it in. He uses some foul-smelling oil to keep the leather from wearing it out. Sarella complained about it to me at length the other day." Scoffed Brienne.

"Then it is fortunate that the Guards know already is it not?" I smirked.

"Oh stop that and come over here, you arse." Snorted Brienne.

"As my Lady commands." I grinned before rushing over to my wife and embracing her.

As we walked arm-in-arm over to the Armory so Brienne could shuck enough of her practice gear to not overheat, she turned to me.

"Quentyn spoke his first proper word yesterday. He called me Mama." Informed Brienne.

"Huh, I can't believe I missed that. I thought it would take at least another month or two before that happened." I frowned.

"He's smart, Ricasso. It takes most babies several months to speak their first words, Quentyn's done it in four." Shrugged Brienne.

"He's smart, strong too. He started crawling early too. A lot earlier than almost any other baby would have." I pointed out.

"That's not uncommon in my family. Tarth Blood breeds for sturdy children, even more so after Ser Duncan the Tall joined our family. Did you not also have something like that?" Questioned Brienne.

"I mean, I was always big for my age, but I don't think I quite match the heights of Ser Duncan the Tall, literally and figuratively. I'm fairly certain the early strength and coordination comes from you, Love." I remarked.

Now we headed for our personal apartments. Brienne was clad in a pair of leather breeches and a gambeson but was still in need of a bath and a change into less martial clothing. As for myself, I would like a chance to see my son before delving into the minutiae of the preparations for war. While we walked, we continued our conversation.

"I see. Well with Tarth Strength and Seawynd Intelligence, Quentyn will be the envy of the whole of Westeros when he starts growing." Smiled Brienne.

"We'll need to make sure that there's a Westeros for that to happen in, Love." I sighed.

"What do you mean by that?" Queried Brienne.

"There's Civil War on the Horizon, Love. Tywin Lannister is seeking ever more influence at court and Lord Stark seems unable or unwilling to contest that as much as he could from his position as Hand of the King. He's more concerned with the Treasury, which has been depleted horrifically and forced to depend on further and further loans from various sources. Meanwhile, the Master of Coin plays shadow intrigues with the Master of Whispers while the Master of Laws and the Master of Ships, both of which are the King's Own Brothers do little at Small Council Meetings aside from sniping at each other and backing opposing initiatives. All that on top of the usual intrigues, pretty grudges, and corruption of the Royal Court. The Iron Throne's authority is slipping down a cliffside and it will only take a single strong shove to send the whole thing sliding down on a terminal descent into factionalism and war." I explained.

"I see. I've never been to Court, so I have not seen it myself, but Father was at court a number of times, both before and after Robert's Rebellion. He always likened it to a bucket of crabs, with each courtier and official scrambling to get out of the bucket, only to be pulled down by their fellows." Mused Brienne.

"It makes sense. There's a remarkable lack of cohesion amongst the Small Council and their various functionaries. King Robert isn't in the best of health as it is. My guess is that he dies within the next six months due to his heart giving out or some other such malady. At that point, the whole rotten edifice will come crumbling down and the knives will come out." I informed.

"So what do we do when that happens?" Asked Brienne.

"We're pledged to back Lord Stannis, whatever side he chooses is the one we will choose as well. After all, we're tied to his fortunes now." I answered.

"Indeed. Not only have we betrothed Quentyn to Shireen, but agreed to let Stannis Foster him as well. We've also shared technology with him, allowed him access to our trade network from a favorable position, and you even had his right-hand man's son as your squire. Speaking of which, I noticed you didn't bring Maric with you back from King's Landing. I take it he won his spurs?" Questioned Brienne.

"He did." I confirmed.

"Good for him. He worked hard for those. As I was saying, abandoning Lord Stannis at this juncture would be far too dishonorable an action. It would sit poorly with me." Nodded Brienne.

"It's more than that, Love. The other factions will no doubt be aware of our ties to Stannis and see any abandonment of him or other betrayal as a ploy. Even if we were to do the dishonorable thing and abandon Stannis, the other factions would see it as some sort of trick and never believe we actually did so. We would be targeted by them all the same." I pointed out.

"So, what side is Lord Stannis likely to fall on?" Queried Brienne.

"I suppose that depends on what exactly happens. Likely not the same side as Lord Baelish or Tywin Lannister, I can tell you that much." I intoned.

However, the dire conversation was swiftly interrupted by our reaching of our Apartments within the Citadel of Bloodstone Port. Inside, Quentyn was in the midst of climbing out of his crib, where he'd been put down for a mid-morning nap by the nursemaid.

"Daba!" Grinned Quentyn.

I grinned back at my son, and suddenly, the impending Civil War seemed so far away. Right now, in this time and place, I felt like I had enough room to just enjoy spending time with my wife and son without having to deal with the doom and gloom of the Civil Conflict on the Horizon. I snatched a few hours of time to read to my infant son and share a mid-day meal with my wife. It was, quite possibly the best thing for me at the time. Alas, all good things must come to an end, and by six bells in the afternoon watch, I found myself headed for my Solar to go over things with Vizimir and Sarella. There was no rest for the weary, after all.

Especially not with War in the offing. . .

XXXX

"Most of our holdings are sufficiently defended. The issue is always going to be the Whispers." Insisted Sarella.

"Sarella is right. Whispers only recently fortified to standard levels. House Crabb has few modern troops. Rest need significant training. House Crabb has no modern ships in fleet. A few War Galleys four-pound guns, no real ships of note. Plus Baelish." Added Vizimir.

"What about him? Are we expecting him to make a move to seize the Whispers?" I asked.

"More like Baelish has agents in whole of point. Whispers only place he doesn't have agents. My doing. Getting accurate intel on potential attack next to impossible with that going on." Scowled Vizimir.

"It's likely that if War comes, then he will make a move on the Whispers. Possibly through a proxy like the Brunes. Though with the Crabbs being given the title of Warden of Cracklaw Point, there is an opportunity here. I had a look through various legal textbooks and law codices when I heard that you had secured the official fealty of House Crabb and that they were appointed Wardens of Cracklaw Point." Offered Sarella.

"This is good. Helped her out with idea." Smirked Vizimir.

"Not the most romantic date I've ever been on, but at least it was stimulating." Huffed Sarella.

"Da, in more ways than one." Chuckled Vizimir.

"Please just tell me the idea and never make me picture that again!" I cut in, sharply.

"There's an old precedent that's still on the books from the time of the Dance of Dragons. The Warden of Cracklaw Point has the right to maintain a constabulary force throughout the point in order to root out potential treason. Apparently, when the Blacks and Greens were negotiating the peace settlement, they figured out that dividing the Crownlands, the heart of Royal Power, among factions in the future would only lead to even more issues in any future wars. It's the main reason why the notoriously fractious point remained loyal to the Targaryens during all five Blackfyre Rebellions. We could use that to get the edge on Baelish before a war even starts." Informed Sarella.

"Da, by using Constabularly as extensions of spy network, we have legal way to insert agents in territories Baelish will be unable to contest." Grinned Vizimir.

"Do it. In the meantime, I am authorizing the transfer of modern equipment to be sent to the Whispers along with trainers to help strengthen Lord Crabb's guard forces. How many War Galleys, Baidaks, and Fully-Rigged-Naval Pinnaces are projected to come out of our shipyards in the next month or have come out of our shipyards this month?" I questioned.

"As of the last figures? It's looking like we'll have another twelve war galleys, twenty-four pinnaces, and forty-eight Baidaks, not to mention the four Carracks coming out of the Braavosi Arsenal. We should have crews for all of them, thanks to the deals we have going with Braavos." Answered Sarella.

"Good. Send half of them to the Whispers to beef up their fleet. The other half goes to the bases in the Three Sisters." I ordered.

"Deal with the Sistermen was for basing in time of war. War has not come yet." Pointed out Vizimir.

"I will write to the lords there to let them know war is imminent within the next few months. I will also be sending them some arsenal steel weapons, armor, muskets, powder, and shot. Enough to equip a force of a thousand-three-hundred-fifty men as Musketeers, Pikemen, and Halberdiers in three companies of one-hundred-fifty each. That should be enough to assuage the Sistermen's worries." I insisted.

"Lord Sunderland may use that equipment, and our ships based in his islands, to raid the Vale." Warned Sarella.

"Lord Sunderland is a more reasonable man than his reputation, or even the reputation of Sistermen in general, would suggest. He knows that such a move would be ill-advised. What of our own preparations? How soon can we get things ready on our end?" I queried.

"Militia System works as intended. Drills confirm it. Should be able to call up full muster in two weeks." Shrugged Vizimir.

"The issue is going to be how spread out we are. The Stepstones, Tarth, Mourne, and Salt Bay are likely to be able to muster and concentrate swiftly, but Red Flower Vale, Blue Flower Vale, and the Isle of Women have a ways to go, even by the standards of Carracks, to arrive at a muster point on Bloodstone. I'd say it would take them a little over a month to muster troops and ship them to rally points in the Stepstones. Plus, the Whispers has only partially implemented the militia system, which makes their mustering an issue." Responded Sarella.

"Da, three tiers is stupid. Crabbs think they can muster levies only if needed. Makes for piss poor reaction times." Spat Vizimir.

"Indeed, it could take them longer than even Jalhabar Xho in Red Flower Vale to muster their full strength and ship them to a rally point. We've done a lot with the Whispers, but Lord Rupert Crabb just hasn't had the time to implement everything. He felt that instituting a partial Militia System would be a decent stopgap. Nobody expected a Civil War to start brewing." Admitted Sarella.

"How many troops can we expect to have aid us from House Crabb? Assuming they just use their Guard Force and what militia troops they have?" I asked.

"Guard force? Six Hundred. Perhaps twice that in militia forces. Anything more would be dipping into the dregs of the levies that still remain levies." Informed Sarella.

"Da. Is decent force for Cracklaw Point. Both houses of Brune together only have one-thousand-two-hundred more. Most of it levies. Shite quality. Problem is that War not staying in the point." Shrugged Vizimir.

"I know, Baelish is going to reinforce his puppets as quickly as he can ahead of any attack on the Whispers. I'm fairly certain he'll have other issues to worry about closer to home, however. Lord Stark is investigating him for potential treason with the treasury. It's likely that by the time War breaks out, Baelish will have spent the intervening time fending off the Lord Hand's inquiries." I said.

"Which means we have initiative. Good. Should be able to prepare surprise or two by that time." Grinned Vizimir.

"Speaking of, my father wanted me to pass a message along to you. The Mountain's incapacitation was a pleasant surprise for him. He wants you to know that you have his sincere gratitude for that, though he did say he wished that you'd killed him instead of making him a cripple." Smirked Sarella.

"He still mourns for Princess Elia, I assume?" I questioned.

"Always." Nodded Sarella.

"Pass this message back to Prince Oberyn with your next correspondence. For a man like the Mountain, so proud of his strength and size, being made a cripple, unable to walk without a crutch for the rest of his natural life? To a man such as that, that is a fate worse than death." I intoned.

"I think he'd enjoy that sentiment." Chuckled Sarella.

"In the meantime, you know what my orders are for preparations to be made. Carry them out and pass them along. We have work to do before the inevitable happens." I commanded. And with that, Vizimir and Sarella moved on to relay my orders and ensure the proper actions were carried out by the people in charge of doing so, while I returned to my apartments to spend time with my family.

XXXX

Within the week, the first shipments of equipment and trainers headed for the Whispers. The week after, I received a letter from Lord Royce via Raven, accepting my offer of missing runic knowledge in lieu of the return of Lamentation. Along with my reply, I sent back a detailed, step-by-step, set of instructions for a ritual that would empower the runes he carved for the sacrifice of the blood of a medium-sized animal such as a pig or deer. I suspected that a lot of pig farmers in Royce lands were about to receive a lot of coin in short order.

Aside from that, the rest of the month went smoothly, with a couple hundred thousand dragons being made in trade throughout the month. I spent roughly half of that on expenses, with the rest being split roughly in half between purchases meant to shore up my military position and the treasury. By the end of the month, I had laid in enough supplies to ensure that I could feed my people even while the militia were out at war with a comfortable margin of error. I had practically bought out entire villages and towns' worth of surplus foodstuffs, largely buying from Pentos and Norvos. The plan was to do the same thing next month, buying from Braavos and Lorath.

At the same time, by the end of the month, I had a further two, forty-eight-gun, New Model, Nau-style Carracks with Goldenheart Wood Hulls and more efficient sail plans, twelve, fifteen-gun, Fully-Rigged Naval Pinnaces, six, twelve-gun, War Galleys, and twenty-four, eight-gun, Baidaks. I kept the New Model Carracks for my own fleets, sending two, forty-eight-gun, Old Model, Nau-Style Carracks from the Bloodstone Fleet with the other ships to the Whispers. That ought to beef up things substantially.

As things continued into the last month of Two-Ninety-Eight AC, however, I received a visit from Vizimir. Apparently, something had happened to Arya Stark in the Capital. Vizimir had heard reports that an attempted assassination had occurred and the girl was still unconscious after three days. The Maesters claimed she was still alive but trapped in her own mind. I knew the signs of a coma when I heard them. Rumors as to why kept flying this way and that, but Vizimir felt that Lord Stark had gotten a bit too close to one of Littlefinger's Accounts books during a search of one of his brothels and that this had been done to send a message. Unfortunately, Littlefinger seemed to have shoved much of the blame onto the Lannisters.

That in turn had made Lady Catelyn do something rash. The same as she had the first time around, Lady Catelyn had struck out at the Imp as a way to strike at House Lannister. That in turn had Tywin Lannister apparently send a raiding force under Ser Amory Lorch into the Riverlands to raid the border territories in retaliation. The situation had only taken a month to begin deteriorating rapidly. I ordered him to have Bronn and his men prepare for a fighting evacuation of their target lists from King's Landing. In the meantime, I continued my preparations for war at a feverish pace.

I purchased supplies from Braavos and Lorath to widen my margin of error, put the militia on red-level notice, which meant that they needed to be ready to be called up for action at a moment's notice, and kept things moving forward. My treasury received only a few dozen thousand dragons of my total monthly income because I was spending so much in preparation for war. Thankfully, Arya Stark recovered from her coma swiftly, though the incident seemed to have caused her to block out the entire night of her attempted assassination.

For a moment, it seemed as if things would calm down some as negotiations were ongoing throughout the last weeks of the last month of two-ninety-eight between the Starks and the Lannisters, moderated by King Robert, who seemed to be taking things seriously for once. I had hope that maybe, the Civil Strife could be averted a bit longer. Unfortunately, the events of the first month of Two-Ninety-Nine would conspire to dash those hopes expertly.

By the end of the First Month of Two-Ninety-Nine AC, the whole of Westeros would be plunged into Civil War. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, here we see a bit of character interaction between Ricasso and Brienne, followed by a scene of planning with Vizimir, Sarella, and Ricasso, followed by a more general look at the rest of Two-Ninety-Eight AC. Notably, things are deteriorating differently, and more slowly, than they did in canon.

As we'll soon see, that will have only had the effect of giving all sides more time to prepare. Instead of the War Starting in the last months of Two-Ninety-Eight, it instead starts in the opening months of Two-Ninety-Nine.

While the Mountain isn't around to raze a third of the Riverlands, Tywin still has Amory Lorch to act as a mad dog. He's less successful at it than the Mountain was, but that's still a matter of degrees. This time, Arya is the one whose attempted assassination sparks Cat to capture the Imp, thanks to a raid on one of Littlefinger's brothels getting too close to capturing crucial evidence of Littlefinger's Fraud for comfort and Littlefinger trying to use Arya as an example to distract Ned by pointing fingers at the Lannisters.

It's slower and a bit different than in Canon, but Civil War is inevitable. Not even King Robert getting off his ass to actually rule will change that. After all, it will only take Robert being killed, assassinated, or even just incapacitated for the whole thing to break down and open war to start up once again.

At any rate, the next chapter will be an interlude about the events that finally cause the final push into Civil War.

Stay tuned. . .