Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 40: Call the Banners, We Are Going To War!

―At King's Landing―

Red Keep ― Royal bedchamber...

It was a bright, sunny morning. King Daveth stretched his arms and groaned as he moved to wake himself up from his slumber. He was a married man now, but even then, the Oathkeeper still had to tend to his royal duties. Before doing so, however, Daveth had to tend attend a special session of his Small Council. There were two vacancies that needed to be filled and he had his grandfather Lord Hand Tywin Lannister to assemble the candidates he suggested. Climbing the stairs, he arrived at the new Small Council chambers in the Tower of the Hand.

Red Keep ― Tower of the Hand...

Daveth scoured the room to see Grand Maester Pycelle, Varys, his uncle Tyrion, Ser Barristan... and the two candidates to fill in the vacancies. To his right stood Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill; it had been sometime since a denizen of the Reach of his status even set foot in the Red Keep and when Lord Tarly received an invitation, Randyll complied with the summons. Finally, to his left sat Prince Oberyn Martell who had both of his feet prompted atop the desk.

"Your Grace," they all greeted.

Daveth gave a brief nod in acknowledgment. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice, my lords. This meeting of the Small Council will officially begin once the Hand of the King arrives."

"These meetings aren't always going to be this early, are they?" Oberyn asked rather bored if not a bit tired. "I was up late last night."

"If the King or his Hand calls upon us, then surely it must be something of utmost importance," explained Ser Barristan.

"And you're all just content with this?"

"Believe me, certain occasions like this always tends to make my head spin. I never enjoyed discussing politics, but King Daveth has 'insisted' that my presence was needed."

Oberyn sighed. "So, does this mean I am a master of something now? Coins? Ships...?"

"We will be getting to that momentarily," Randyll interrupted gruffly. The animosity between the Reach and Dorne going back centuries were still present among both sides. "But until then you'd to best to—"

All talks subsided when Tywin Lannister entered the room and sat at his assigned seat next to his grandson. "We are here to discuss the appointments the King has recommended, so this needs to be done," the Old Lion coolly announced as he turned to his grandson. "Your Grace."

Daveth nodded and cleared his throat. "For some time there have been two vacancies on this council, positions that are considered of great importance in advising the crown. The search for suitable replacements was painstakingly long, my lords. But know that each of you assembled carry with you a particular talent. After much thought and careful consideration, I believe I found two worthy candidates for this cabinet who carry such talent suited for the rolls I bestow upon them." With that, Daveth first turned his attention towards Randyll. "Lord Randyll Tarly," he begun.

The old Lord of Horn Hill stood tall and proud in his seat, his face showing no emotions.

"You are one the finest military commanders Westeros has ever produced, the only man to defeat my father Robert Baratheon and my uncle Ser Jaime Lannister in battle as no one else ever has. Your prowess in warfare is perhaps unparalleled. As such, it is with great privilege that I name you the new Master of Ships."

Randyll nodded in acknowledgement. "Very well. All I have to offer is hereby at the crown's disposal, Your Grace."

Daveth nodded and turned to his left. "Prince Oberyn."