Lord Roboute Tyrell

- 261 AC - 

(Rowena Tarly POV)

I had never seen a city so loud it choked on its own music.

Tyrosh shimmered like poisoned wine: sapphire walls fused from black dragonstone, glinting towers, mansions veined in gold, a large harbour cradled fish and death. Its streets were full of colour. Purple hats and pink beards. The wealthiest and nobles of the city wore brass-tipped shoes and silken capes too fine to be worn twice. Priests shouted sermons to gods no one feared, and from the Fountain of the Drunken God, wine flowed beside filth. It was a terrible experience, no matter how you looked at it. After years of learning at Macragge and being the only woman allowed to lead my own unit, I had grown accustomed to the order and functionality and the beauty of it. 

Beneath the silk, the streets of Tyrosh stank of fear. 

They called him Alequo Adarys, the Silvertongue. But the slaves knew him better: "The Tyrant." He ruled the city with a pen, a purse, hundreds of lies and blood. A merchant prince made warlord, gilded in flattery and cruelty. He was one of the Band of Nine; he had gained his crown not by bloody conquest or battle, but by being the clever merchant, using contracts. And once, I'd assumed that made him weak. 

I was wrong. 

I came to Tyrosh not as Rowena Tarly, but as Lya, a free Myrish girl with sharp eyes and a broken tongue. I wore a servant's robe and dyed my hair to the pale green that Tyroshi children favoured. I was sold, deliberately, I might add, to a minor nobleman who oversaw dock manifests for the Temple of Trios, a decadent, bloated place that masked a network of information channels for Alequo's bureaucracy. 

There, I started listening and learning all that I could. 

Slaves outnumbered freemen three to one. The harbour's guards were underpaid and overworked. The guards at the Bleeding Tower, Tyrosh's outer harbour gate, were rotated every six days. The "red ships" carried slave children north, even beyond the Wall. The city was drowning in its own gold, and the poor, especially the enslaved, were hungry for something they couldn't have.

I presented the plan to Roboute before going through with it. I intended to build something small: a hidden network, maybe two dozen at most, which would allow me to slowly take over the most dominant party in Tyrosh, the slaves. My unit would do the same, hide in the streets and gather intel. Roboute thought the idea was good, but pointed out several difficulties and dangers we would encounter. And he was right. 

Tyrosh's underbelly was not as soft and unguarded as we had hoped, and inspiring slaves wasn't as easy as Roboute made it out to be. He didn't even try, but they followed him. 

I started with whispers in the dyehouse: a "foreign girl" who knew where guards wouldn't look. Then came the kitchen slaves. Then the courtesans—women who had seen more nobles undressed than a battlefield Maester. Then, a boy in the ink guild who could forge city seals. We gathered the necessary intel and selected who would be good to have on our side. There was a lot to choose from, but only a few would be the right choice, Roboute had told me so. 

And then came the Maskmaker.

He was a slave of 50, blinded in one eye, who once worked the furnace kilns that forged Tyroshi helms shaped like birds and beasts. He was the first to call us 'The Cracks, ' a name for what we were doing. We weren't rebels, not yet. Just cracks in the seemingly invincible armour of filth that was Tyrosh. There was a reason why Alequo was a member of the Band of Nine. He seemed to know everything about most of the important people. 

I set our base beneath a barred shrine to one of the endless false gods, which had been long abandoned. We hollowed out the cellar, reinforced the beams, and created a room filled with all kinds of maps, cyphers, and faces we came across. The mission was a long one and one I needed to take slowly. I did as the Ultramarines had been taught: information above all else. 

We sparred with one another, keeping our skills sharp and ready for close quarters and memorised all the maps of the city we created. Using the Valyrian we had been taught, we learned how to read the bleached ink codes on dock manifests. We kept copies of guard rotations, drawn with charcoal onto silk, so they could be destroyed quickly, should we get captured or discovered. We met only in the darkness of night, to keep hidden and give the slaves a sense of security, at least in the way that they weren't seen.

Then something changed the plan.

Alequo Adarys himself came to the shrine district. I saw him with his expensive robes, three golden rings on each finger, and a voice like acid. He was inspecting the temple quarter personally. They said he did it to "walk among the people." But I think he did it to show the slaves that they were never far from his gaze. That they were always being watched and that, despite him being so close, they would never have any chance to do anything to him. I scoffed at the idea. That wouldn't ever work. 

That night, three members of the Cracks were taken, imprisoned and hanged in public. They were branded with the symbol of thieves and traitors. Alequo managed to make the slaves fear the same repercussions. So they pulled back and stopped coming at night. I thought my progress had been undone. That all of it had been for nothing, and that I would fail my Lord. 

I wanted to pull back. Go quiet again and prepare for Roboute's arrival, which was certain to come sooner or later and let the plan unfold slowly. But then the Maskmaker's son was taken, and something inside the members of the Cracks snapped. We weren't a quiet network anymore; we were furious and refused to take the injustice as it happened. I watched as the timidness turned into rage and a willingness to do something. However, I also noticed that I couldn't stop them, and they were about to turn into an uncontrollable and useless angry mob. 

The courtesans slipped sleeping powder into the Archon's wine cellars. My harbour contacts set fire to two "red ships." I took twelve rebels disguised as harbour fishmongers to the Bleeding Tower, where we posed as delivering offerings for the Drunken God. The plan had been set in motion, which was the only way I could solve this conundrum. Like Roboute had taught me. Should I get into a situation where those under my command were no longer calm and controllable, I should focus their anger and channel it to make them productive. 

Inside the tower, we unleashed hell. We overran the guards, seized the bell chamber, and raised the banner of the Reach. However, not a green rose, but a white omega on blue. The mark of the Ultramarines. The bells rang till dawn. We weren't finished there, though, and managed to reach the guard towers protecting he main gates. We opened them up for what I knew to be the immediate response of Lord Tyrell. 

And he didn't disappoint. 

.

I hear the walking of troops from the distance and, looking through the rising mist of the harbour, I see a fleet emerge: The Aegis, Diligence, and the rest of the fleet, which has grown, I see.

Roboute Tyrell stands at the prow. No horns are being blown, except the ones from Tyrosh's defences and no speeches are heard, except the shouting of Tyroshi soldiers.

It was the image of inevitability. 

I signal for the women under my command, and we rush towards the Harbour. The Tyroshi ships are taken by surprise by the Ultramarines and the Reach forces. They blow through them and clear each deck with efficiency and speed I am used to. I see Roboute walk down the wreckage of a ship and approach me. 

"My Lord," I say and nod my head. 

"Tell me," he says. 

"No more than 1'000 soldiers in total and the large fleet, which I see you already took care of. I brought a map for you to help you navigate the city. The slave movement is already doing its work, but I'm afraid not as a coordinated unit. I had to channel their fury and let them loose."

"Well done, Rowena. Randyll, go with Rowena and clear the northern part of the city. Kill any Tyroshi soldier, no matter what. We will clear this city. Mathis takes the south. I shall move through the middle and deal with Alequo."

"Yes!"

We marched through the city like it had been built for us. Behind Randyll and me marched 500 Reachmen, and this was increased by the former slaves, who saw me and joined us. The people of Tyrosh stood stunned, seeing the military presence within their walls and not outside of them. They were prepared for a siege, but not such a quick invasion. Some weep, others fall to their knees. 

I dodge the swing of a Tyroshi soldier and stab my blade into his foot, allowing Randyll to cut off his head. We were always a good team, and thankfully, he has nothing against working with women, as long as they're skilled and know what they are doing. There are a few, but there are female Ultramarines. The requirements are harsh and hard to fulfil, but once you do, you are a respected and immensely skilled warrior and intellectual.

Eventually, we make it to the main palace. Alequo Adarys tried to flee, because of course he did. He's a weak, pathetic man when it comes to such a thing. He wouldn't ever face an enemy head-on and would do everything to kill them before that, use subterfuge, poison or anything of that sort. He was caught by Reach soldiers, his own guards having abandoned him. Roboute did not kill him at once. He wanted to make this a scene. Not out of false pride, but to send a message. 

"Alequo Adarys. You are a member of the late Band of Nine. Your crimes are open for all to see and know. Speak your truth, Silvertongue. If there is something you wish to say, do it now."

Alequo's lips parted, but no sound came. I saw how he wanted to excuse himself, but it wasn't working. The sight of Roboute sealed his voice. 

"I-I-I... don't... can't... do--"

"Someone make a note of that man's bravery," Roboute says and turns around to look at me.

I don't understand what he is trying to say, but Randyll pushes me lightly from the side. I look at him, and he nods to the front. So I step forward.

"My Lord?" I ask. 

"You have lived here for months. Tell it for all to hear, how do you find him?"

"No trial, my Lord?" I ask. 

Roboute looks at Alequo blabbering on the ground and nods. 

"Very well, he shall have a trial. If there is anyone who has something to say about this man and the deeds he has done, speak up now," Roboute told the masses. 

Suddenly, the area erupted into a loud cacophony of voices that shouted out their anger, pain, and suffering they had endured. All of it was released at once. After listening to this for a full minute, Roboute raised his hand and silenced everyone. 

"Now then, if there is anyone who is willing to speak on this man's behalf, speak up now."

...

Dead silence. Another minute passed, and Roboute looked at me. Once again, he asked me the same thing. 

"We had a trial. As I said, you have lived here for months and experienced his character. I trust you not to lie to me. Tell it for all to hear, how do you find him?"

"Alequo Adarys is a cruel and sadistic man, only interested in profit and the suffering of his enemies. He smuggles, tortures, hangs people for no reason, despises most people and enslaves or kills all who aren't of his opinion," I say. 

"And your verdict?"

...

I look at the last member of the Band of Nine. I see the fear in his eyes and understand why we are going through this. I am a woman, and haven't been fighting on the front lines yet. He may not have the same views as the rest of Westeros, but he understands that everyone has something productive to offer. But I need to prove to him that I deserve my spot. I need to demonstrate that I am strong enough to persevere through this. 

Being a woman in Macragge was hard, despite having Roboute, who spoke up for us. He didn't claim that women and men were equal, far from it. But he said that everyone had their uses and each one can be as productive and important in their own right. Humans were not like wheat; they were more like different stones. Not one is the same, but by bringing them together, you can create anything you can imagine. 

I look at Roboute and answer. 

"Death..."

Roboute nods his head. Randyll walks forward and hands me his sword. I take it into my hands and wait for the two soldiers to hold Alequo still. Then, with one clean stroke, I cut the tyrant's head off. 

Hard to believe that months of work end just like that. Even harder to believe that I was trusted with such a crucial mission. Though I am certain that Lord Roboute had several backup plans and options he could use to get what he wanted.

All recognise, Roboute Tyrell, the Blade of Unity and the future ruler of Westeros. Of that I am certain.