GOT/ASOIAF: Ruler Beyond The Ice

Aegor listened patiently as Buckwell explained the situation, finally grasping the root of the trouble—morale and military pay.

Just two issues, yet both were complicated to resolve.

When more than thirty thousand men from the rebel army left camp, splitting into smaller forces of several thousand each to besiege the castles surrounding the Vale of Arryn, a strange pattern emerged. No matter which castle they surrounded, the moment the rebels arrived, its defenders would immediately raise the flag of surrender before the attackers could even establish a foothold.

Yet when Robert's soldiers cautiously entered these strongholds, they were stunned. Inside, they found only servants, caretakers left behind to clean and guard the place. Every noble, regardless of their rank or importance, had already fled with their valuables while Robert was still regrouping his army outside King's Landing. By now, they were likely safe deep within the Vale.

It wasn't just a matter of lost plunder. The six kingdoms hadn't marched all this way just to loot. But without highborn captives, there were no hostages to ransom, no pressure to force the rebels into surrender. Robert's strategy to systematically dismantle enemy strongholds and coerce the Just Alliance into submission had utterly failed. If they refused to negotiate, there was only one option left: storm the Bloody Gate.

And that was where the real problems began.

The saying went: the first assault is strong, the second weaker, and the third is exhausted. The rebel army had been camped outside the Bloody Gate for ten days, perhaps even a month. Robert himself had led several attacks in the first few days, but after that, things changed.

The lords feasted and drank, discussing alliances and marriages. The soldiers, bored and restless, spent their days reading their little yellow books or even brawling for entertainment. When it was their turn for battle, they'd charge forward, loose a few arrows, cause some token casualties, then withdraw. The cycle repeated every six days.

After so many half-hearted assaults, the weaknesses of the army's structure and training became glaringly obvious. Robert was revered and feared across Westeros, but morale built on a ruler's personal charisma was fragile. Against an unyielding fortress like the Bloody Gate, hesitation became deadly. Each day that passed sapped the men's fighting spirit, like water leaking from a cracked cask.

If Robert had launched an all-out assault from the beginning, throwing wave after wave of men at the walls, heedless of casualties, he might already be in the Eyrie, celebrating his victory with the women of the Vale. But now? Even if he wanted to rally the troops for a decisive attack, it was doubtful whether they had the will to fight.

Morale, however, was the lesser of the two problems. While their fighting spirit had suffered from failed assaults, at least they hadn't endured any crushing defeats. With so many skilled commanders from the six kingdoms gathered here, it was still possible to restore morale.

The greater issue was military pay.

In Westeros, responding to a lord's call to arms was a duty—a corvée obligation. Soldiers were not normally paid wages. Instead, their rewards came from spoils of war, land grants, tax exemptions, or promotions based on merit.

With the exception of personal guards and standing armies, most levies raised during wartime received no pay at all. Wealthier lords might provide weapons and armor, but poorer ones, like those in the North expected their men to bring their own. Peasants fought for their lords essentially for free until victory was achieved.

This system, while seemingly unfair, had its limits. Military service was only unpaid when defending one's own lands, and only for a set period. The moment a campaign extended beyond that time or crossed into foreign territory, the soldiers had to be paid.

This time, the armies of the six kingdoms had marched far from home, fighting not for their own lords but for King Robert and Lord Arryn. That meant not only had the lords borne the costs of travel and supplies, but now, after weeks of campaigning, their men were overdue for wages.

Each kingdom had its own conscription rules, ranging from forty to sixty days of unpaid service. Aegor had been too busy advancing the Night's Watch's interests to keep track of time, but the truth was clear, this war had already gone into overtime. Soon, the lords would start demanding their due.

This was precisely why Robert had sent Petyr Baelish to borrow money from the Iron Bank before the war dragged on too long. It wasn't just for his own army, every lord had the legal right to demand reimbursement for their troops' extended service.

"The Master of Coin defected?"

"It's not exactly defection. Petyr vanished as soon as he landed in Braavos, but he didn't take the Iron Bank's loan with him… At best, you could call it fleeing to avoid consequences." The old lord sighed. "It's a disaster, not just because we lost our funding. I hear the Iron Bank is planning to send envoys to King's Landing to investigate the crown's finances."

Aegor wasn't surprised. Littlefinger had been many things, but he wasn't foolish enough to steal from the Iron Bank. The rulers of Braavos wanted people to fear the Faceless Men, why else maintain such an infamous reputation? The threat alone was often enough to ensure compliance. Aegor shrugged. "If I were the Iron Bank, I'd be nervous too if my biggest debtor suddenly lost its financial minister."

"It's worse than that. Littlefinger running off is as good as a confession. He's practically admitting that Lysa Tully did conspire with him to murder Lord Arryn. Now, even our own position is in jeopardy."

Aegor nodded thoughtfully. "That is troublesome. If it were me, I'd take the Just Alliance's offer and end the war with some dignity."

"But His Majesty the King is not you," Buckwell said with a bitter smile.

Aegor laughed. He could already picture Robert's reaction in the war council—red-faced with rage, likely flipping tables and shouting obscenities. A man like Robert would never accept such an open insult. If anything, this humiliation would only make him more stubborn, less willing to negotiate.

"But no matter how furious he is," Aegor mused, "he doesn't have the gold. And he can't force the lords to keep their armies here once their service time is up. The rules of the game don't allow it."

"It's certainly not allowed," Buckwell said. "Robb Stark… I don't know if you're familiar with him, but he's the son of the Hand of the King. At the war council, he's already stated that he'll be sending some of the less-trained peasant levies home to tend to their farms. He'll personally lead the remaining knights and elite troops to continue assisting."

At the heart of it, this was a matter of productivity, medieval society simply couldn't sustain the long-term absence of able-bodied young men, who made up roughly one percent of the total population. No matter how magical this world was, certain fundamental laws still applied.

"The Starks are among Robert's most valued allies, and they took little for themselves after he overthrew the Targaryens. There's no reason for His Majesty to stop such a loyal and hard-working family from returning home to labor on his behalf," Aegor mused, suddenly grasping Buckwell's dilemma, those who contributed and those who defied the king would be treated very differently.

"Precisely," the old lord agreed. "The Starks and the Tullys have been unwavering in their support of His Majesty. He can't force them to remain without pay. The Tullys are in a slightly different position, Lady Lysa is holed up in the Eyrie, so they'll likely leave ten thousand men behind to keep the pressure up. But the Starks… they're too dutiful for that. They're keeping five thousand here, but if they miss the planting season, people will starve in the North."

Aegor's mind began to work. "Let me make a guess, half the army from the Stormlands will likely leave, but since they're the king's bannermen, his best troops will stay. The Lannisters, being his in-laws, can afford to remain, but you can be sure they'll charge every silver stag in expenses to King Robert's debt to Lord Tywin." His thoughts moved faster now, his mind no longer dulled by the tournament. "The only ones likely to just walk away are the Dornish. House Martell has never cared for the Iron Throne. They sent their troops here out of obligation, but the moment their conscription time expires and the king fails to pay them, they'll vanish within days. As for the Tyrells… they're desperate to worm their way into the center of power in King's Landing. They wouldn't miss this opportunity to prove their loyalty." Aegor exhaled sharply. "Seven hells… now I see why Highgarden only sent five thousand elite troops instead of committing more men from the Reach. This way, they can put on a grand show of loyalty under the king's nose without having to shoulder a massive payroll!"

The rules of the game were as simple as they were crude, when the king called for war, refusing to fight branded you a traitor. But once a soldier's service time was up, staying on proved your loyalty, while leaving to tend to your lands was perfectly acceptable. Robert could resent those who left, could make things difficult for them later, but he had no grounds to accuse them of wrongdoing.

The problem was that Dorne was the only kingdom in Westeros that didn't care if Robert resented them.

Ten thousand men had come from the North, yet half would leave before the war was won. Robert might not say it aloud, but it would surely sting. Meanwhile, Highgarden had sent only five thousand but by standing firm to the bitter end, they could win the king's favor. Clever bastards. The politics of it all were fascinating. Aegor wondered had the Tyrells planned this so precisely, or had they just stumbled into the perfect strategy?

"Your analysis is sound," Buckwell admitted. "But you left out the Crownlands."

Aegor frowned.

"Our lands," the old lord clarified. "Not only did we fight on the wrong side during His Majesty's rebellion, but we are directly under the authority of the Iron Throne. This is our chance to prove our loyalty and wipe away our past sins. We don't dare leave, and we certainly don't dare ask the king for military pay."

Damn it. If Aegor weren't standing in front of Yoren and Buckwell, he might have slapped his own thigh in frustration. He was only now realizing that this war, with all its absurdities, had spiraled far beyond Robert's original plans. And worse, its outcome now directly affected his own interests.

"How long can Antlers' wealth sustain this?"

"Fortunately, the Tyrells have been supplying food and fodder, which eases some of the burden. By my calculations, we can last a month. If we start selling off property, maybe two months at most. Beyond that…" Buckwell shook his head grimly. "Forget the investment deal you proposed, even my own family will have to borrow just to buy grain."

Trouble. A huge trouble.

Many of the nobles Aegor had courted as investors were from the Riverlands and the Crownlands. If their armies bled themselves dry solely to avoid offending Robert, then vast sums that should have gone into his projects, into the Night's Watch would be swallowed by the war. The money wouldn't disappear, but once it ended up in the hands of exhausted, unpaid soldiers, it would be nearly impossible to retrieve.

And that was a loss Aegor could not afford.

He inhaled sharply, hissing air through his teeth as he thought. Then, after a long moment, he clenched his fist.

Your position determines your perspective. If profit was on the line, then he had no choice but to intervene.

"Lord Buckwell," he said at last, his voice steady. "I have an idea. Present it to the king at the next war council. If it works, we might be able to end this war sooner and cut our losses."

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