The Solar, One Week Later
Cressen had not slept properly in six days.
The desk before him had become a landscape of parchment—ledgers borrowed from the treasury vault, correspondence copied by hand from the maester’s own records, old raven-scrolls retrieved from storage chests that had not been opened since Stannis’s time.
His eyes ached from candlelight and small script, and his hands, never quite steady these days, trembled worse than usual from exhaustion.
But it was done.
Or as done as a week could make it.
Alric entered without knocking and dropped into the chair across from Cressen’s desk with the particular stillness of a man who had spent seven days waiting and did not intend to wait any longer.
“Do not disappoint me more than you already have. Tell me you have something, Cressen.”
Cressen nodded.
He had seemed low these past few days—not because of the work, but because of Alric’s dissatisfaction with him.
And Cressen understood it.
Alric had trusted him to care for Dragonstone in his absence, trusted him with the important duties of the castle and its lands.
“I have everything you asked for, my lord. Whether you will thank me for it once you have heard it is another matter entirely.” Cressen straightened the stack before him, buying himself one final moment.
“Shall I begin with the vassals?”
“Aye.”
“Dragonstone holds the fealty of eight noble houses, as you know. Among them are four major houses: House Velaryon of Driftmark, House Celtigar of Claw Isle, House Sunglass of Sweetport Sound, and House Bar Emmon of Sharp Point, whom you have had recent dealings with.”
He paused, glancing down at the parchment.
“Beyond them are four lesser houses: House Farring, House Follard, House Massey, and House Chyttering.”
“I know who my vassals are, Cressen. Get to the point.”
Cressen exhaled slowly.
“During the years you spent largely in King’s Landing, before you came of an age to manage Dragonstone directly, Lord Guncer Sunglass served as regent of the island. It was a decision made by the Crown—or, to be more precise, upon Lord Jon Arryn’s recommendation at the time.”
Alric said nothing.
“House Sunglass was among the nearest of Dragonstone’s vassals, except for the Velaryons, who were not exactly favored by your uncle, King Robert, given their long association with the Targaryens. Someone needed to hold matters together while you were too young to do so yourself. Lord Guncer was chosen. He had made notable contributions during the Greyjoy Rebellion.”
“I know about him,” Alric said flatly.
“I heard about him. Met him as well. Jon Arryn called him a pious man. A proper believer in the Seven.”
His mouth twisted.
“But when I met him, he seemed like a cunning fox. I was twelve, and even I could see it. I do not know why Jon Arryn chose him.”
“Be that as it may, my lord, he held considerable authority and influence during those years. Most influential lords are like that. Westerosi politics is like that. To remain at the top and exert influence, one needs to be smart, clever, and sometimes cunning.”
That only seemed to raise more doubts in Alric.
“My uncle Robert is not exactly a politician,” he said.
“And he is a fucking king.”
Cressen smiled faintly.
“He has Lord Jon Arryn for that, my lord.”
Alric did not look satisfied.
Not truly.
“I am not sure about Jon Arryn. I have mixed feelings about him. He is a good man. He took care of me, sometimes. But he is getting old. In my first years at King’s Landing, he seemed well enough. When I left, though, he looked exhausted and old. I don’t if he still has in him anymore.” Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Cressen considered that before answering as carefully as he could.
“Perhaps age has caught up to him, my lord. No man can defeat the nature of life. Or perhaps, as you observed, he is overworked. Keeping a realm afloat after rebellion and a change of power is no small matter.”
Alric’s next question caught Cressen by surprise.
“What about Eddard Stark?”
The maester looked up.
“What do you mean, my lord?”
“You said Jon Arryn has been the politician for my uncle. He was one of the three leaders of my uncle’s rebellion. But Lord Stark was one as well, and he took no power. He has stayed out of Westerosi politics.”
Alric leaned back in his chair.
“Uncle Robert loves him like a brother. More than he loved Father, perhaps even more than Uncle Renly, more than his foolish son for sure. I heard enough stories about Lord Stark and Uncle Robert from the king that I grew sick of them.”
Cressen understood the question now, though not fully the reason behind it.
Alric had never cared much for these discussions in the past.
Still, it was his duty to answer, and he did so as best he could.
“Lord Stark is one of the most honorable men in Westeros. He returned North once the rebellion was settled. The North is a harsh place, my lord. It takes much to govern it. The Starks rarely involve themselves in southern politics. They focus on northern matters.”
He took a slow sip of wine.
“The North is nearly half of Westeros by size. In one sense, it is an independent kingdom of its own. Without dragons, it would be almost impossible to conquer. The cold, the distance, the harsh land—an army would falter before it had crossed a quarter of those lands.”
Cressen’s voice lowered.
“The North is part of the Seven Kingdoms because the Starks are honorable men. Always has been, Ruthless historically but Honourable. They do not easily break their word or their oaths.”
Alric considered that.
“Well, until the Mad King happened to them.”
Cressen nodded.
“Until the Mad King burned Lord Rickard Stark and strangled his heir.”
Alric nodded slowly.
He had always wanted to know more about Eddard Stark, even if he was sick of hearing Robert mention him.
“So he simply went back North quietly, with little interest in Westerosi politics. Hence the name—the Quiet Wolf.”
Cressen nodded again.
“Well, I do not know if I should respect him or consider him a fool for missing such a great opportunity. He could have done much after the war. If he had tried to involve himself in Westerosi politics, he might have held more influence than anyone after the king. Maybe even more than Tywin Lannister.”
There was genuine thought in Alric’s voice.
Cressen stared at him, impressed but also accusing.
Alric noticed the accusing look.
“What?”
Cressen said nothing.
He wished to remain as respectful as he could.
But Alric understood enough.
“I grew sick of politics, but I am not unaware of its importance. I grew up in King’s Landing—the snake pit of politicians. Spend your childhood fighting with Cersei Lannister when you are eleven years old and you learn a thing or two about politics.”
He gave a dry laugh.
Cressen nodded, smiling faintly, though there was sympathy in his eyes.
“It is difficult for any child to live while constantly bickering with the Queen of the Realm.”
Alric did not smile.
He remembered those years as miserable ones.
Yet they had taught him lessons about life—brutal lessons, perhaps, but lessons worth remembering.
“It was not mere bickering, Trust me on that Cressen.” he said in a miserable and hateful , and over the top serious tone.
Then he pushed the matter aside.
“Forget it. Let us focus on what matters.”
Cressen saw his lord’s reluctance and let it go.
There was nothing to be gained by pressing him when Alric did not wish to speak of it.
“Yes, my lord. Now, where were we?”
“Guncer Sunglass,” Alric said immediately, his voice cold.
Cressen nodded.
“Oh, yes. Lord Sunglass. As I said, he held considerable authority in those years. Once he became regent, his influence was at its height. He made various decisions that changed the fragile and feeble politics of Dragonstone and its vassal lands.”
He turned another page and showed it Alric.
“He held authority over the ships, their command, training men, assigning routes, and spending gold within what was considered reasonable limits. Authority which he used, along with the support of your other vassals, to distribute a portion of Dragonstone’s ships and treasury among the noble houses.”
“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 in embarassed and ashamed that he couldn’t do much about that.
Alric with a very angered and cold expression on his face.
” Let’s go on details this time.
Lets discuss this properly.
Because Neither I am a 12 year weak boy I was back then nor I am fool to forgive these slights.
”
I am sorry for not uploading yesterday, I was very sick.