Chapter Text
Taylor was surveying a batch of crates that had been gathering dust for moonths. They had been shipped all the way from Westeros after the Accords of Dusk and Dawn were inked and agreed upon. She could not remember what the ones she was eyeing contained, and it was rather late besides. She did not want to impose upon one of her bureaucratic minions to go digging through records.
Thus, she cracked open the best-looking crate and took a gander.
There were a bunch of documents inside. One bundle of scrolls was richly decorated in gold leaf, with lion motifs pressed into wax. She picked one up and tried to read it.
She could not decipher the damn thing. It was written in some sort of cipher.
Should I go bother Lisa for this?
The yays and nays ping-ponged inside her head for a minute.
Ding ding ding.
It settled on nay.
(And yes, her inner mind image was that of the House of Representatives coming to a vote and banging the gavel.)
So, not bothering Lisa.
She would bother Hui instead. Master's privileges toward her first and best apprentice and all that jazz.
One flex of her Dominion and she found the Ink Monkey.
Booh! she sent her mindshadow in greeting.
And good night to you too, Tai Le.
Hui had become inured to some of her eccentricities.
Need something?
Yup! Could you send a Scholarilla to my attic?
Which one? You have five, Tai Le.
Taylor beamed the location to her, mind to mind.
Five minutes later, a four-armed ink gorilla shuffled up beside her. The inkbeast had a pair of exposed brains painted on its shoulders, which, together with its oversized head, provided plenty of brain juice to burn through problems. The Silverwings were using them to crack mathematics. Hui had come up with them after getting inspired by yet another plagiarized story from Marquis's outfit.
Taylor handed the scrolls to the Scholarilla.
"Do your magic brain guy."
The gorilla read through everything in record time before looking at her oddly.
He's asking how you want it formatted. It's some big lord's records, sent Hui.
Is that so? Can it rewrite it chronologically? Like those diary journals they've been selling lately?
Sure thing, boss lady!
The Scholarilla fetched a glass pen and got to work.
Seven minutes later it handed her a translation of sorts: Records of Tywin Lannister
Oh boy.
She started reading.
⊙
Dear diary,
Today I learned that some of Rhaegar's children survived.
I still do not know why Pycelle is so eager to serve, but the old fool is useful. This raven of his must have outflown every other.
That said, this presents a problem. Those children must die. Nothing can stop my dynastic design.
The boy especially needs to go. I will have to determine what tools are closest to him.
I am also rather surprised by Ned Stark. To be honest, I am unsure how long ago the plotting started. Perhaps Rickard Stark had some arrangement with Rhaegar?
Does it matter?
His son Ned is scheming something, and that must be addressed.
If he means to press a claim, both children would have to die posthaste.
⊙
Dear diary,
Today I learned that Ned sent the boy to the Wall. Then another raven came from the Watch claiming the boy never joined.
It is eminently clear that Ned is still playing the game.
I remember sending a cartload of loyalists to the Wall. Surly men all. I do not understand why they were so eager to serve a wretch like Aerys.
Anyway, the shape of it is clear.
Stark placed his claimant among loyalists to shelter him, while pretending his claim is done with. A crude scheme, but passable for a hasty correction.
I am unsure how accurate the tale of the boy running beyond the Wall truly is. It requires confirmation. Commander Mormont was a man of Stark, after all.
Eastwatch-by-the-Sea must be interdicted.
⊙
Dear diary,
Stannis is dead and the effort to interdict a possible egress point has floundered.
Worse, Robert is losing his mind.
Joffrey is still ten, and that is too young. His siblings are younger still. I need Robert alive for four more years at least.
I should find betrothals immediately for them all.
Jaime most of all. His foolishness has lasted long enough. He needs a wife, and he needs her now. Desmera Redwyne, perhaps. I will need their hulls. Especially since the royal navy has gone to shit.
Margaery Tyrell for Joffrey will do nicely. Perhaps Shireen for Tommen. I cannot wait for Renly to marry and reproduce. Better that he suffer some misfortune in the future. That will earn me the Stormlands. Or I might just force Robert to make Tommen heir of Storm's End. That will keep a marriage open.
Myrcella I shall keep in reserve. She may seal a peace either in the North or the Riverlands.
And war is coming. Robert will not accept anything else.
Frankly, it would serve my aims, particularly if Stark and his ambitions are neutralized. Yet I would rather not spend too much upon it.
So what do I face?
The Stark-Tully-Arryn alliance could reform. That is entirely too much.
We cannot stop them with Stormlanders and Westerlanders alone without bleeding heavily. We would need the Reach. And that would place me in their debt.
Not an insurmountable problem, admittedly. Especially if I make Margaery queen by way of Joffrey contingent upon their support.
But I would rather limit my reliance upon them as much as possible. They must remain secondary to House Lannister. There is only so far their influence should be permitted to grow.
It would be better to break the alliance preemptively.
The Riverlands are my first problem.
Last time they split almost in half between rebels and loyalists. There are loyalists there still who might convince Hoster to support Stark wholeheartedly. Hoster may even have known from the beginning. His daughter would surely have told him about Rhaegar's child.
The Vale and the North I can do little against right now. Not until Robert gathers his host.
But I can shape and weaken the Riverlands.
If Genna is to be believed, Edmure Tully is a soft-hearted fool.
Clegane would do.
A band of outriders with no colors and no banners. Striking across the border. If they can bait a response, they may gain me leverage.
Best case, I neutralize one wing of the alliance.
Worst case, the effort proves fruitless, but some of Clegane's dogs can be allowed to get caught, which would be justice for the sheep.
No harm done.
⊙
Dear diary,
Edmure rode straight into the trap.
Most excellent.
He will enjoy the finest Casterly Rock has to offer. The best food, the best beds, and the best Lannisters. Why, if he gets some girl with child, he may yet serve my designs in the long term.
The royal navy, however, has splintered.
And Robert has gotten it into his head to go kill other dragons.
In Tyrosh.
I went and yelled at Tyrion before continuing to write. I can only suffer so much foolishness.
And this is beyond foolish.
The only hulls Robert can truly command are the Stormlander contingent. That is enough for little besides making nuisances of themselves and dragging the Crown through the mud.
I will need to treat with the Archon and the Conclave to limit the damage. Pay them if necessary.
Actually, I will need to pay them regardless. For sellswords and sellsails from across the Narrow Sea. My own navy is still rebuilding. I will require additional hulls if I am to shape events further.
And keep Balon occupied.
⊙
Dear diary,
Stark is coming to treat with Arryn.
More scheming, more like.
Stark's actions make it apparent he has some plot underway. That needs to be stopped.
What I do not understand is what this theatre of a parley is meant to accomplish. Arryn should be hearing it from Pycelle as well. There is no stopping Robert.
So why are they behaving as though that could be done?
They must be stalling.
But for what?
Varys did mention the girl in Essos, accompanied by rumors of a dragon.
That is evidently false. The dragon is merely another fanciful tale, like those stories about the bone demon of the Vale...
Huh.
Arryn did leave his kingdom to investigate that rumor. Nothing came of it, of course. But perhaps it was merely cover for maneuvering with Stark?
Yet Arryn would never accept a Targaryen upon the throne again.
I mislike this.
There is a conspiracy brewing, and they are stalling for a reason I cannot see.
But I know how to deal with these situations: cut the knot. Burn it all.
If Stark is sticking his neck out from his frozen wasteland, I shall simply cut it and be done with it.
Whatever schemes are underway would be crippled by his death. His heir is still young.
And without Stark, some northern lords may yet be persuaded to see reason.
⊙
Dear diary,
According to Creylen, my best prospect in the North would be Roose Bolton. He happens to have a son near enough in age to Myrcella.
Yet the boy is finishing his squiring in the Vale…
That is yet another indicator that something is brewing between the Vale, the North, and these claimant Targaryens.
I still do not see the aim.
But time is short, and this distraction has run long enough.
I shall send Clegane to shadow the parley.
Once it concludes, they will follow the northern party until the second group intercepts them. A spot of bloodletting away from prying eyes.
The Scheming Wolf will die.
The plotting will die with him, or at least cease being urgent.
Whatever lords accompany him will be captured and turned into leverage. That could open the way north. And even if it does not, with Stark dead Robert should be more inclined to see reason.
Then we can focus on what truly matters: killing Rhaegar's son.
⊙
Dear diary,
I have concluded that I am surrounded by idiots. Some absolute fools ruined a perfectly executed encirclement by poisoning the wrong lord, triggering a small battle, allowing Stark to escape, and somehow turning a parley into the North seceding—
INK BLOT
⊙
Taylor could read no further. The remainder of the original scroll was covered by a truly gigantic ink blot.
The Scholarilla merely doodled the outline of one in the translation.
This Tywin fellow must have been very angry at the end there.