“In the name of repaying the houses for their war efforts,” Cressen continued carefully.
“And in the name of repaying gold Dragonstone supposedly owed them.”
Alric went still.
Very still.
He had known parts of what happened in those years, but knowing did not make the anger disappear.
This was one of the things that had always troubled him.
One of the reasons he had chosen to sail, build his own strength, and rely on himself rather than King’s Landing.
“Distribute,” he repeated.
Then he laughed—a cold laugh without humor.
“They stole that gold and those ships. It is robbery and corruption in plain sight. Why give it some fancy name?”
Cressen bowed his head, embarrassed and ashamed that he had been unable to do more about it.
Alric’s expression turned cold and hard.
“Let us go through the details this time. Properly. Because I am neither the weak twelve-year-old boy I was back then, nor a fool willing to forgive these slights.”
Cressen understood then how deep Alric’s anger ran—and how justified it was.
He began laying out the papers and ledgers, one after another, spreading them across the desk between them.
Alric scanned the first few in silence before looking up.
“What about the other lords? Did they simply agree to this?”
“They had their own arrangements among themselves as well, my lord,” Cressen said.
“Alongside what Lord Guncer arranged. Four of the major houses took the largest shares, with the other four taking their own fair share.”
He hesitated.
“All of them had their hands in this scheme. That is why it was so easy for Lord Guncer to make such a blunt decision despite how it might appear. They were all in cahoots.”
Alric scoffed, shaking his head slowly.
“Of course they did. Foxes do not need convincing to share a carcass.”
Cressen looked down at his hands, guilt evident on his face—guilt he had carried for years, for having been unable to stop any of it.
He cleared his throat and continued.
“And, of course, there is the more recent matter, my lord. As you already know, Lord Hand Jon Arryn sent a letter stating that the remaining ships would be reclaimed, as they were considered part of the Royal Navy.”
Cressen’s voice grew quieter.
“It was an outrageous demand, but Dragonstone still relies upon the Crown support. I did not believe it was worth risking that support. So I allowed it, despite knowing how it would look.”
That was the final piece, and Alric’s fury boiled over entirely.
He stood and paced the length of the solar, fists clenched at his sides.
“The audacity,” he said through gritted teeth.
“My own vassals rob me blind for years, and then the Hand of the King finishes the job, calling it duty while doing plain blackmail.”
He turned sharply, his eyes burning.
“Everyone in this realm seems to think Dragonstone is a purse left open for anyone with the nerve to reach in and take their share. This needs to stop. And it needs to stop now.” New chapters come out on g.com first.
His anger shifted then—not fading, but changing.
Beneath it was something more wounded.
“Are we truly that dependent on Crown support for income? Do we not earn enough gold through the trade I bring in, the routes we hold, and the taxes we collect?”
His voice hardened again.
“That you had to put this humiliation upon Dragonstone?”
Cressen sighed.
He could hear the hurt beneath the rage.
Alric knew Cressen had acted with what he believed to be good intentions, but that did not make the matter easier to accept.
“Yes, my lord. We are far richer than we were before. But your ambitions are great as well.”
Cressen gestured toward the ledgers.
“Your projects consume a large portion of the gold you bring in. Taking care of The children of Dragonstone are one example. They have become skilled, yes, but feeding, housing, clothing, and training them costs gold—and it is an expense that does not end as kids are coming and coming every year.”
He paused before continuing.
“And then there is your project in Lord Duran’s lands. That is also no small undertaking either. More costly and it would increase its cost as the time pass.”
Alric nodded, taking in the explanation.
But his eyes remained cold.
He thought about it and he didn’t just have it in him to back down like this, especially like this when they are getting advantage of thier position, So he took a decision.
A risky one indeed but he took one believing in himself.
“Do not worry about the gold. Take loans from the Iron Bank if needed. I have already spoken with them.”
Cressen looked up sharply.
“But never again allow anyone to hold leverage over us that can become a problem later.” Alric said with most emotions he could gather other than rage and anger.
Cressen nodded.
He was impressed by Alric’s preparation, but uneasy as well.
Loans from the Iron Bank were not a thing any sensible lord took lightly.
“This situation will not end here,” Alric said, as though the decision had already been made long before this conversation.
“No. I will not let it end here like this.”
He turned sharply toward Cressen.
“Write to every party involved. Tell them I want everything returned—every ship, every dragon of gold, everything they took from Dragonstone under Sunglass’s regency. Tell them that if it is not returned, I will come to collect it myself.”
His voice dropped.
“And it will not be pleasant for anyone involved.”
Cressen nodded and reached for fresh parchment, but then hesitated.
“My lord, before that—there is a letter from Lord Monford Velaryon. You refused to read it before. You may wish to read it now.”
Alric took the letter, broke the seal, and read it in silence.
Then he laughed—that same cold, humorless laugh from before—and threw the parchment onto the desk as though it were filth.
“A hypocrite,” Alric said flatly.
“He writes to tell me he stands with me against the Crown for taking my ships. As if he did not take his own share of the very same theft.”
Cressen picked up the letter, read it himself, and felt the same bitter taste rise in his throat.
“Or perhaps he wants to provoke me.”
He looked at Cressen.
“Write him a different letter. Tell Lord Monford that he is summoned to Dragonstone’s court tomorrow.”
“Shall I send a rider, my lord? Driftmark is close enough that—”
“No,Just send the letter.” Alric said shaking his head.
His voice clear but hard.
“No explanation is needed for the likes of him. Simply state that he is summoned and Let him wonder why.”
Cressen made note of it, then paused as Alric turned toward the door, as though remembering something.
“And send nothing to Bar Emmon,” Alric added.
“Lord Duran is already coming tomorrow, according to his letter. I will speak with him myself.”
Cressen nodded, watching his lord move toward the door.
“My lord,” he called after him.
“What of Lord Jon Arryn?”
Alric stopped, half-turned.
“What about him?”
“What should I send him, my lord?”
“The same,” Alric said, without hesitation.
“Every ship returned. Every man restored to Dragonstone’s service. All of it.”
He looked back over his shoulder.
“Or I will come to take it. And it will not be very pretty.”
Cressen felt something cold settle into his stomach.
“My lord, he is the Hand of the King. We are speaking of the Crown itself. It would be unwise to burn that bridge so completely.”
Alric turned fully now, his eyes flat and unyielding.
“Crown or not, they have been thieves of what belongs to me, Cressen.
I will not back down.
Not for the Hand.
Not for the King himself.
His voice carried no heat now.
No rage.
Only certainty.
“If I bend once, they will come back for more. And then again after that. Men like them do not stop taking because you ask them nicely the first time.”
Cressen said nothing more.
He only bowed his head and reached for his quill, already dreading the storm his young lord seemed intent on bringing down upon them all.