Aemond watched his retreating back.
He needed men like that.
High-spirited hounds.
Ambition was a good thing.
Among the nobility, such people were rare; among the commoners, even rarer.
But as long as they existed, he would pick them out one by one—feed them, fatten them, and then loose them to bite.
More importantly, he also needed another intelligence network.
Tella was excellent—loyal and capable, with control over the Red Keep's secret passages and the "little birds" spy network.
But Tella would soon be betrothed to Will.
Will was the Master of Coin, his trusted confidant, the man who managed his purse.
One who handled intelligence, and one who handled money—becoming family.
Aemond did not doubt Tella's loyalty, nor did he doubt Will's.
But he had to prepare a second line.
Power could not all be placed in a single basket.
No matter how reliable that basket was.
Krytt was his second basket.
Men of common birth like these could only rely on him.
To maintain Aemond's power was to maintain their own interests.
And what he could grant them, he could just as easily take away.
Aemond withdrew his gaze.
He looked toward another man approaching in the distance.
The acting castellan of Dragon's Roost—Carter.
Carter had been waiting there for a while.
He watched Krytt leave Aemond's side, watched that once insignificant boy walk away, and could more or less guess what had happened.
Another one promoted into the inner circle.
He was pleased as well. Men like them—lowborn nobles—were privately scorned by the aristocrats of King's Landing and the Crownlands.
They could only band together. Only when more of their kind rose, forming a bloc of shared interests, would those ancient noble houses no longer dare to look down on them.
He withdrew his gaze, straightened his collar, and strode toward Lothorne.
Lothorne saw him and let out a low growl.
But it was different from the one he had given Krytt earlier.
Carter smiled.
Every time he came to see the prince, the first thing he did was bring food for Lothorne.
Fresh mutton or beef—whole carcasses.
Lothorne recognized him now, knew this lad always brought something good to eat.
Carter clapped his hands.
Behind him, several soldiers from Dragon's Roost carried forward two goats still struggling.
Lothorne's eyes lit up.
He stared at the goats, his throat beginning to glow again—this time from hunger.
Carter gestured for the soldiers to set them down.
"Lord Lothorne, how would you like it today?" he asked with a grin. "Roasted, or swallowed whole?"
Lothorne ignored him.
Lowering his head, he snatched up one goat in a single bite.
The goat let out half a scream before he flung it into the air, exhaled a burst of flame, and it vanished into the dragon's maw.
Lothorne chewed. Not bad.
Then he grabbed the other one.
This time he didn't chew—he swallowed it whole.
Lothorne belched, expelling a gust of hot air tinged with the smell of burnt wool.
Carter waved at him.
"Take your time digesting, Your Grace. I'll go see the prince."
Lothorne paid him no mind.
He had already begun to doze.
Carter turned and strode toward the castle.
Aemond was heading back inside.
Carter quickly caught up, falling half a step behind him.
After walking for a while—
Without turning his head, Aemond asked, "Some people say I drive beasts to devour men."
"What do you think?"
Carter did not slow his pace as he answered, "That is the ignorance of the masses."
"Some scum are a waste of grain even while alive."
Aemond said nothing.
Carter continued, "Some others try to flee."
"They attempt to return to Driftmark, or go elsewhere to start anew."
He paused.
"We catch them, and naturally we punish them severely."
"To set an example for the tens of thousands."
Aemond stopped.
He turned around.
"Many are fleeing?"
Carter nodded.
"Yes, Your Grace. The people from Driftmark are unruly."
"They've been fleeing in groups. Several hundred have already run…"
He continued, "The pressure across the whole territory is heavy."
"Sixty thousand people—food, shelter, supervision every day."
"We don't have enough manpower."
Aemond fell silent for a moment.
He looked toward the migrants laboring in the distance.
They moved slowly.
Some were slacking.
Reluctant. Unwilling.
Aemond's gaze turned cold as he spoke, "From now on, divide them into groups of twenty."
"If one person escapes and the others do not report it, execute the entire group afterward."
Carter's heart skipped a beat.
Collective punishment.
"As for those who flee—so long as they have family still here," Aemond continued, "Execute them all as well."
Carter drew in a breath.
"Yes."
Aemond looked at him.
"Inform the lords of the Stormlands nearby, and those of the eastern Reach."
"If any of them are found sheltering these traitors, the Iron Throne will punish them severely."
"For every one they send back, reward them with a silver stag."
"As for those brought back—hang every one of them."
Carter nodded repeatedly.
"Yes."
Aemond's smile returned.
"As the families of traitors, I have merely ordered them to undergo a few years of labor."
"When the war ends, they will be set free."
"Why are they so blind to their own good?"
His smile deepened.
"Then they leave me no choice."
Carter lowered his head.
"Your Grace is merciful."
As they entered the castle, a wave of noise crashed over them.
The ringing of masons' hammers, the rasp of carpenters' saws, the grinding of wagon wheels hauling stone across the paving, the overseers' shouts, the workers' replies—
All of it echoed through the unfinished hall.
Aemond stood at the castle gates, watching the busy crowd.
The main keep of Dragon's Roost was more than half complete.
Grey stone walls rose from the foundations. The tallest tower had already been capped, while arrow slits and crenellations were being installed.
In another half year, the castle would be fully operational.
"Your Grace."
Carter's voice came from behind.
"Dragon's Roost still needs more troops."
"With more people arriving, we are stretched thin."
Aemond did not turn back.
"Five hundred in the Correction Company. Five hundred in the garrison."
"Carter, how many people are there in the territory now?"
Carter said, "Including those from Driftmark, we're close to sixty thousand."
"Sixty thousand," Aemond repeated.
"We can manage, barely," Carter said. "But it's a strain."
Aemond was silent for a moment.
"Then recruit another thousand."
Carter's eyes lit up.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
Aemond continued walking inward.
Carter followed.
"Your Grace," he said, "there is one more matter."
"Speak."
"Since sea transport from King's Landing was cut off, refugees from the city have begun coming here to seek a living."
"Several hundred have already arrived."
Aemond stopped.
He turned around.
"The matter I instructed you about?"
"My granaries?"
Carter nodded.
"They were completed long ago."
"The grain was purchased in advance a year ago."
"And there is also the grain agreement with Braavos."
"The reserves stored there would be enough to feed the people of King's Landing for more than a year."
Aemond looked at him.
Carter asked cautiously, "Your Grace,"
"Once food in King's Landing begins to run short, we could raise the price a little."
"That way we can both ensure supply and earn some profit—to subsidize the royal treasury."
Aemond smiled, looking at Carter.
There was a trace of approval in that smile.
"You learn quickly."
Carter let out a breath of relief.
Aemond turned and continued forward.
"That way I won't need to tax them openly," his voice came from ahead.
"They can pay their taxes through what they eat."
Carter followed.
"Your Grace is wise."
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---