Chapter 101 98

Lord Yohn Royce.

Watching his sons and his nephew, Yohn felt a pride he had rarely known before. He could admit to himself, in his more honest moments, that Axel had once been a selfish bastard with an inflated sense of his own worth. He listened to no one, did exactly as he pleased, and cared nothing for the interests of those around him. Fighting, whores, and food had been the sum of his ambitions. For that, Yohn had blamed King Robert, as a poor model for a young man to emulate, and Dorne, as the place that had shaped his nephew's character.

When Axel had fled to Essos, Yohn had expected him to go completely to ruin on that continent. The opposite had happened. In a land of slavery, dishonor, and corruption, Axel had become a responsible, iron-willed commander, one capable of inspiring genuine devotion in his men. And the years spent governing a foreign country had hardened his finest qualities, teaching him the arts of politics and compromise.

Now the blood of his sister, surrounded by loyal men, was deciding the fate of thousands of people and of an entire region. The leading roles in the Vale of Arryn's future were gathered here: Jasper Redfort, the future lord of Redfort; Ser Symond Templeton, master of the Nine Stars; Lord Henry Melcolm, lord of the largest fleet in the Vale, though this fleet counted for little in the broader reckoning against the great powers; Lord Gilwood Hunter, who had earned his pardon after the rebellion; and himself, Yohn Royce, head of the second most powerful house in the region. But the council was not filled by great lords alone. Also present were the High Lord's trusted companions in arms: Desmond Redfort, known as the left hand of the Falcon's eye; Morgan Sand, who had risen from the bastard of a Dornish lord to become his liege's confidential man; and his own second son, Robar Royce, who had won enormous prestige and renown through several operations of sweeping consequence. A dozen lesser lords and bold knights who had proven their worth sat in the rear rows, though without the right to speak. And there was the silent Ser Eyris, who said nothing and performed the function of scribe in Waymar's absence. All of these men watched Axel with loyal eyes, some making no effort to conceal it, others not yet aware that the Falcon's eye particular quality of command had already begun to take hold of them.

The younger men argued, occasionally raising their voices and trading sharp words, but Axel's mere presence quieted them, and they would return to a productive discussion of the problem at hand and the best means of resolving it.

The council had already run three hours, and many questions had been settled. The younger men were full of ideas and hunger for action, yet they were not too proud to proclaim the wisdom of more experienced lords. Near the end, when nearly all business had been concluded and responsibilities divided, Lord Henry rose to his feet and, with the silent backing of most of those present, addressed Axel directly:

"My lord Arryn, most of those present know that you bear no love for any of the claimants to the throne, and we share your convictions." Those around him, and Yohn himself, began to nod. "The Iron Throne has given us nothing but grief and death. How many good sons and daughters of the Vale have died for the ambitions of men who are nothing to us? To the seven hells with all of it!" The room came alive with agreement, and Melcolm pressed on.

"Why should we not rule ourselves again?" Only now did the room begin to understand where this speech was leading. "Here he stands, a seasoned commander and a clear-sighted ruler. One before whom I am ready to bend the knee. The King of the Mountains and the Vale!"

Yohn could admit it to himself freely enough: the prospect of his nephew taking a crown stirred something deep within him.

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