8th Moon, 8020

Tourney Grounds of Highgarden

The tourney grounds of Highgarden were truly a paradise on earth. Warm winds from the mander and the sunset sea brought in a pleasant breeze that mixed with the orchards of Highgarden, which were immediately adjacent to the Tourney Grounds. Scents of a dozen different fruits filled the air and servants delivered fresh tarts and sweet bread to the spectators.

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Vaemond, who was seated to the right of his host on the Tyrell pavilion, inhaled the air, feeling the warm breeze on his face as the final two knights prepared for their joust.

It had been a fairly uneventful first 2 years of Vaemonds reign. He did not share his fathers inclination for Royal Progresses, but he had made several unofficial ones throughout the realm, visiting the great seats of many houses to participate in tourneys.

Vaemond was fast finding that he had little talent for jousting, with the current tourney being the only one in which he had progressed past the first day. Still, despite the lack of success donning his armor and entering the lists brought a feeling of adrenaline that he had not yet found a match for.

He had participated in the tourneys of Riverrun, Casterly Rock and Castamere with limited success, though two of his Kingsguard had won the ultimate honors, with Ser Gawen Corbray taking the tourney of Casterly Rock and young Ser Roland Crakehall winning the tourney at Castamere, which Vaemond had dubbed the ‘’Drunkards Tourney’’ due to the sheer amount of Knights that arrived to the lists drunk off of lord Castameres cellar, the tourney of Riverrun had been won by Lord Selwyn Tarth, who had dismounted Vaemonds hand Orys Baratheon.

This current tourney of Highgarden had been called to celebrate the wedding of Theo Tyrell, the new Lord of the Reach, and Rylenna Lannister, second daughter to Lord Paramount Loren Lannister. Theos father Harlan had died after only a few weeks in the capital as master of coin and so the Lord Paramountcy of the Reach fell to his fathers former ward Theo Tyrell, a man of 36 who was just as quiet as Vaemond remembered him being from the short time they both grew up together.

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Sitting to the left of Theo Tyrell and his new bride was Loren Lannister, lord of the Westerlands. His golden hair had since retreated to white but the man made for an impressive sight, dressed splendidly in a tunic of gold trim and wearing a necklace of the largest emeralds Vaemond had ever seen, he was courteous but like their host, was a quiet and reserved man and Vaemond had spoken little with him, though he planned to change that shortly.

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Vaemond heard a playful gurgle to his right and turned to his sister Nyel, who had their infant son Aelyx on her lap, the little prince, mouth stained with the remains of a pastry clumsily reaching out to a passing butterfly.

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‘’I think he likes it here.’’ Nyel said with a small laugh.

‘’He's quite the little traveler already.’’ Vaemond said, he had not wanted to leave his family alone in the capital so Nyel and Aelyx followed Vaemond from tourney to tourney.

Vaemond looked at his son breathing in the warm sweet air of Highgarden and felt an unexplained twinge of sadness run through him, before a sudden remembrance entered his brain.

‘’This is where me and father were headed….after Fair Isle.’’ Vaemond told Nyel, it was an eerie thought to think that, just four years after he was on his way to be hosted in Highgarden by Harlan Tyrell with his father, he had finally made it, but with a son of his own, with both Harlan Tyrell and his father dead.

‘’I wish he could have met him.’’ Vaemond said, looking sadly at his son, the grandson his father had never met.

‘’He has fathers nose.’’ Nyel said happily and the infant gurgled agreement.

Before Vaemond could respond, the trumpets sounded for the final joust of the tourney.

The participants were Ser Eustace Oakheart, a man just as tall as Ser Roland Crakehall and the heir to Old Oak, facing him was a lowborn knight called Ser Arthor, a hedge knight that commanded the city watch of the small village of Fossberry to the east of Highgarden.

The two couldn't have looked more different, Ser Eustace was older, near 40 and dressed in armor of green plate with shining yellow gems, while Ser Arthor looked to be only a few years older than Vaemond, and was adorned in only boiled leather, chainmail and plate shoulders.

In the end however, Ser Eustace's jeweled armor had not saved him as the Hedge Knight sent him tumbling to the ground on the fourth tilt.

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Vaemond turned to Nyel as the crowd cheered, somewhat tepidly due to few knowing anything about him ‘’Take note of the man's name….it may be he could serve a purpose one day, I could always use skilled knights.’’

Nyel nodded, and once the man had been given the champions purse, the nobility of the crowd withdrew to the keep of Highgarden for the feast.

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Vaemond knew he would not get a better chance than this and approached Loren Lannister, who was followed by several household knights.

‘’Lord Paramount.’’ Vaemond said, causing the Lord of the Westerlands to stop and regard his much younger liege lord with serious green eyes.

‘’Your grace.’’ The man said, his voice quiet and curt.

‘’I would speak with you my lord.’’ Vaemond said, gesturing to a shaded area.

The older man made no immediate move to do so, but after a period of silence nodded to his retainers.

‘’I have an offer…’’ Vaemond began.

‘’You wish to make me Master of Coin.’’ Loren Lannister said coolly.

‘’I do….though I confess I am surprised you seem to know my intentions.’’ Vaemond responded.

‘’I am the richest man in your Kingdoms your grace…..of course I expected your offer…especially in light of Lord Tyrell's passing.’’ The Lannister said.

‘’Then you will accept?’’ Vaemond asked.

Lord Loren was silent for a moment before speaking ‘’I see no pressing reason as to why I should….and before you speak of reward.I have wealth enough for 10 lifetimes, certainly more than you…..your grace.’’

‘’Influence.’’ Vaemond said simply.

‘’I have influence enough.’’ The Lord of the Westerlands said.

‘’In your own lands perhaps…..but you have little in the Kingdoms….the field of fire was 20 years ago my lord…the war is over, but for two decades you have hid in Casterly Rock as the recluse of the west while the other lords of the realm gain influence and power within the new order my father created…..you are apart of the Kingdoms whether you like it or not….my lord.’’ Vaemond said, using the same tone the Lord of Casterly Rock had used.

You are not the only one that can speak sharply, Vaemond thought, studying the man.

Loren Lannisters face did not shift or betray any anger or emotion, his eyes studying the young King like two specks of frozen cut emeralds.

He was silent for a long moment, and Vaemond thought that perhaps he had gone too far, but the Lord of Casterly Rock gave a simple nod.

‘’I will make my preparations…..your grace.’’ The man said before turning back to his household knights and making his way to the feast.

The feast was a marvelous affair, with the bounty of the Reach being well represented in the dozens of courses served, with Vaemond scarcely able to eat another bite by the feast's end, making his way back to his chambers.

As he dressed in a bedrobe, the door to his chambers opened and Nyel stood in the doorway, holding a small scroll with a concerned look on her face.

Vaemond recognized the scroll as one that would be delivered by raven and approached her.

‘’What is it?’’ He asked, sensing by her face he would find little joy in its message.

‘’From our mother….there's plague in King's Landing….she and Orys are doing what they can but she says that a King's leadership is needed in a time such as this.’’ Nyel said.

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Vaemond took the scroll and upon reading it nodded his head ‘’We will leave upon the morrow.’’

Four Weeks Later

Small Council Chamber of the Aegonfort

‘’My men are well trained your Grace….and they do their jobs to the best of their ability, but with refugees fleeing disease into the city from the Crownlands we are stretched thin…I am loathe to request more men but.’’

‘’But you will do so anyways.’’ Vaemond finished the thin man's sentence.

Rhaegar Tully nodded ‘’If your Grace wills it…..I would not turn down more men.’’

Ser Brynden Tully, commander of the Gold Cloaks for the past 20 years had officially retired, but not before requesting that his eldest son Rhagaer and his second son be given commands within the city watch, which Vaemond had granted, Rhaegar may have been young and as thin as a corn stalk, but he had courage and honor and was a hard worker.

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Vaemond had found his naming curious and had once asked him about it, and Rhaegar had admitted that it was apart of a general trend in the Kingdoms to try and grow closer to the Targaryens and improve their prestige, with a good amount of nobles marrying silver haired women from Essos to try and gain the trait in their own families, and in the absence of his occasionally giving their children Valyrian names.

Vaemond turned towards Loren Lannister ‘’See that Commander Tully is given sufficient funds for 800 new Gold Cloaks, and an additional 100 horsemen…that should be enough to keep the peace.

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The Lord of Casterly Rock gave a nod, while Harlan Tyrell had often attempted to advise the young King on the potential downsides of spending large amounts of coin, Lord Loren would simply see it done with no questions asked.

‘’That will be more than sufficient your Grace.’’ Commander Rhaegar responded, bowing deeply before leaving the room.

With that matter settled, he turned to Grandmaester Arlan.

‘’How do the apothecary's fare Grandmaester?.’’ Vaemond asked, some months prior Arlan had come to him with an idea that some apothecaries be built in Kings Landing and Dragonstone to serve the common people, an idea which the King had seen funded.

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The Grandmaester ran a hand through his snow white beard ‘’The gods grant apothecaries some small gifts in healing…but when I suggested their construction I anticipated them being able to treat fevers, rashes and water poisoning but little more than that…I fear they can do little against the gray plague your grace…..I fear we can do little but pray for a quick end to the disease.’’

Vaemond shook his head ‘’I don't accept that…..we will do more than just pray Grandmaester…..I want a refuge for the sick to be built…given your architectural experience I want you to personally oversee its construction….Lord Lannister will get you what you need.’’

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‘’By the time it is constructed the plague will likely be over, mayhaps it would be better to build it when the pox abides….’’ Arlan began.

‘’It's something that should have been done long ago, it will be delayed no longer…besides the smallfolk should see an effort is being made to protect them….doing nothing could incite riots.’’ Vaemond said.

‘’But the pox.’’ Arlan began again.

‘’I am sure the gods will protect you Grandmaester.’’ Vaemond said curly and the aged Grandmaester nodded and slowly left the room to make preparations.

‘’That was perhaps too harsh….Grandmaester Arlan has served us faithfully….that was unworthy of him.’’ Vaemond said to his small council, in truth he bore the man no ill will but his suggestion that they do nothing but pray had annoyed him.

‘’You are the King…you need not apologize.’’ His mother Visenya said dismissively before continuing.

‘’What you should be concerning yourself with is how best to stop the spread of this plague…..you should shut the city gates for one, as well as the castle gates…..and as unpleasant as it sounds those afflicted with the disease should be dealt with, either banished from the city or killed.’’ His mother said.

‘’I understand your point but that would only seek to start a riot mother…ill hear no more of it….we have enough problems as it is.’’ Vaemond said.

‘’At least shut the castle gate Vaemond…..disease could spread like wildfire through the keep.’’ Visenya said.

Vaemond shook his head dismissively ‘’I won't have it said that the King of Westeros hid in his castle while his smallfolk suffered…..I will be seen.’’

He turned to Orys Baratheon ‘’I want a squadron of guardsman prepared for tomorrow and wagons of bread as well, I'll lead them through the city and distribute it to the smallfolk.’’

Orys ran a hand through his thick black beard, now speckled with gray ‘’A bold plan…and noble, but your mother speaks true….your wife is newly pregnant and your son an infant.’’

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Vaemond shook his head ‘’Precautions will be taken, but I wont shut the gates, a King does not cower in fear.’’

Orys nodded slowly ‘’I'll see it done…there is another matter however….The construction on the Red Keep has stalled to a standstill with the plague, the workers are uneasy.’’

Vaemond nodded, after visiting formidable castles such Casterly Rock, Highgarden, and Castamere, he had decided to continue his fathers work on building the new keep since a timber longhall was not befitting of his family's power.

‘’I mean to see it done before my son takes the throne, make sure the workers are fed, lodged, and given half pay until the plague disperses, they are experienced and I do not wish to lose them, it would take time to replace their prowess, they've been working on the keep for years.’’ Vaemond commanded and Orys nodded.

‘’Good now…’’ The King began but the doors of the council chamber swung open and a courier approached.

‘’Your grace…my lords.’’ The man said, pausing to collect his breath, the King raised a hand for silence, allowing the man to collect himself.

‘’Lord Meric Gaunt of the Blackwater has raised a host of near 3000 men and marches on the city, he means to name himself the new lord of King's Landing.’’ The courier said.

‘’Damn the man….there's a plague of sickness in the city and now he wishes to bathe it in blood.’’ Orys Baratheon said angrily.

Vaemond stood angrily, his hands clasped around his chair ‘’This will not stand….I swear it…it will not…Lord Royce, make preparations.’’

The Master-at-Arms nodded ‘’I'll lead a contingent of calvary to his keep, his banners are on the way here so he will be easy to take him, he is an old blind man.’’