Aemond gazed down at the old man's body sprawled on the floor, then lifted his head and calmly scanned the room.
"Lord Lyman grows old," he said.
"He stumbled carelessly, fell on the Red Keep's staircase, and struck his head upon the stone steps."
"Alas, we could not save him."
His eyes fell on the pale Grand Maester Orwyle.
"How is that, Grand Maester?"
Orwyle trembled, rising so hastily he nearly overturned his chair. He stumbled around the table and crouched beside Lyman's body, fingers shaking, struggling to catch his breath. He felt for the carotid artery, then raised his head, pale but steady in tone.
"Yes, Your Highness," he said.
"Lord Lyman… slipped on the stairs and sustained a severe head injury. We… we did our utmost to treat him, but the injuries were too grave to remedy."
"Very well." Aemond inclined his head.
"Lord Lyman served the realm for many years with diligence."
"His funeral shall be grand, and his pension generous."
"Dispatch a royal envoy to the Hive City to express condolences to his family."
He paused, then added, "The office of Master of Coin cannot remain vacant."
"I have chosen my subordinate, Will, who has managed the finances of Moonspire Fort for many years and possesses exceptional skill."
"Mother, what say you?"
All eyes turned to Queen Alicent. The regent fell silent for a moment, then inclined her head slightly, yielding to Aemond's proposal.
Aemond gave a faint smile.
"Thank you, Mother."
He turned to the Master of Coin, Tyland Lannister.
"Lord Tyland, what were you just saying?"
"Oh, the matter of summoning the vassal fleets. Any further questions?"
Tyland shook his head gravely. "None, Your Highness. The West shall fulfill its obligations. The harbor fleet of Lannisport will sail for the Old City once fully assembled."
"Where are the Iron Islands?" Aemond asked. "Will the Greyjoys comply?"
"The Iron Islands…" Tyland hesitated for a moment.
"Your Highness, you must understand that these pirates have no sense of honor, and it will take effort to compel them to act as vassals."
"Unless…"
"Unless what?"
"They have always been ambitious."
"If we promise them a share of the maritime trade rights of Driftmark after the war, and allow the Ironborn to claim the spoils of war… they will be tempted."
"Then promise it." Aemond did not hesitate.
"So long as it compels them to sail their longships."
"When the war is done, we can negotiate again."
Aemond regarded such treachery with distaste—a vassal threatening his own king for personal gain.
"Use them when convenient, deceive them when needed, and when they are useless… strike them down like dogs."
Tyland Lannister nodded. "Understood."
"Next." Aemond's gaze shifted to Larys Strong, spymaster.
"Lord Larys, there is work for you."
"Your Highness, I await your orders." Larys rose and bowed slightly.
"Send someone to Telosi—not an official envoy, but your agent. Contact the Velaryon marines there. Inform them that their families on Driftmark will soon be under the crown's control."
"If Princess Rhaenyra persists in rebellion, the families of these marines shall be treated as relatives of traitors."
Aemond paused.
"But make it clear that if they are willing to break from the insurgents and return to the crown's fold, their families will not be harmed."
"If they succeed in bringing a warship back, the crown shall reward them greatly."
Larys' eyes gleamed. "Your Highness is wise."
"A navy of over ten thousand, if they learn their families are in our hands, morale will inevitably waver. Even if they do not dare switch sides outright, hesitation and doubt will infect them in battle."
"Moreover," Aemond continued, "if Rhaenyra is truly so mad with hatred that she pulls all her troops back from Telosi for revenge… so much the better."
He turned to Hal.
The commander of the personal guard immediately produced a scroll of nautical charts from his chest and unfurled it on the table—a detailed maritime map of the Bay of Haishui and the eastern Narrow Sea.
Aemond's finger landed on Tidewater Isle and Dragonstone.
"We act now." His fingers traced the coasts of both islands.
"Vhagar and Lothern were tasked with destroying the ports and coastal towns of Tidewater Isle."
Aegon drew a deep breath and rose.
"Aegon will join this war with his Sunfyre"
"Afterwards—the royal fleet imposes a blockade, then the army lands."
He lifted his head, sweeping the room with his gaze.
"Next, we move all wealth, food, and arms that can be taken from Driftmark and Lunshi Isle."
"Evacuate all civilians to Lhuncy Fort and King's Landing. If they cannot be moved—burn it all."
"Poison wells, burn houses."
"If Rhaenyra thirsts for revenge and returns from Telosi with a large army, she will find scorched earth and an empty shell."
A muted gasp rippled through the council.
Strong walls, cleared fields—this was a ruthless, meticulous strategy.
No room to recover; even if the islands were reoccupied by insurgents, they could not rebuild for years, and no military supply lines could be maintained.
"Thus," Aemond said, voice terrifyingly calm, "Rhaenyra's mighty fleet loses its roots. No land, no people, no supply base."
Larys nodded slowly.
"Moreover, if she pulls all her troops back from Telosi, the newly captured Telosi shall inevitably rise in revolt."
"At that moment, she will be attacked from both sides, trapped in a dilemma."
"Exactly," Aemond said.
"So we must not rush into war, but fortify our rear, divide her forces, and make her make mistakes."
He removed his finger from the map and looked at Larys.
"One more thing. Send someone to Braavos."
"Braavos?" Tyland furrowed his brow.
"Will they cooperate?"
"Braavos has always been neutral," Aemond replied calmly.
"They have long feared Valantis' ambitions to restore the Valyrian Empire. Now that the Black Faction and Valantis have united in expansion on the eastern continent, Braavos is seriously threatened."
"From this perspective, they have reason to support us."
Aemond's finger rested on the map at the Narrows—the narrow sea channel between Driftmark and Dragonstone controlling the main approach to King's Landing.
"If the insurgents secure Telosi, they could regain control over Dragonstone and Tidewater Isle, choking King's Landing by sea. Trade cut off, the city starves."
"We need Braavos' naval power to break the blockade."
Larys bowed deeply.
"I will personally ensure the most reliable envoy departs within three days."
Finally, Aemond turned to Lord Jasper Wylde, Master of Laws.
"Lord Jasper, one more task. On behalf of the king and regent, issue an ultimatum to all vassals of Dragonstone—the Setigar, Sangras, Bael, Amon families, and others. Summon them to King's Landing, to the Red Keep, to reaffirm that the oath to the Iron Throne outweighs loyalty to Dragonstone."
"Tell them this is their last chance. If they continue to follow Rhaenyra, after the war it will be considered treason, and their lands shall be forfeited."
The Master of Laws stood and saluted.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Aemond surveyed the chamber.
All eyes were on him, awaiting his final command.
The sixteen-year-old boy who had killed three nephews overnight and executed a master before the council spoke.
"Then," Aemond finally said, "if there are no further questions, let us prepare ourselves."
The meeting was over.
Ministers rose in turn and departed silently. No one looked at Lord Lyman's body on the floor. Hal had already summoned guards to carry it away, wrapped in blankets. Maids entered with buckets and rags, quickly scrubbing the blood from the floor. Soon the chamber smelled of nothing, as if nothing had happened.
Only Queen Alicent remained, seated in her chair, gazing at the son she bore and raised, whom she once thought she understood.
Aemond approached her, knelt on one knee, and took her hand.
"Mother," he whispered, "I know you do not understand why I do this."
Alicent, silent, spoke slowly.
"We could have negotiated… we could have compromised… why must you kill your kin?"
"Aemond, why?"
"Because the age of negotiation and compromise is over," he said calmly, gripping her hand.
"This was their first move, Mother. I merely responded."
"But you killed them… all three…"
"If I had not, they would have killed us."
"Why do you think Jacaerys stole the dragon?"
"Just for your dragon?"
"No. He sought to arm the insurgents, mount a dragon in the future, burn the Red Keep, burn you, burn Helena, burn Viserys and Iselle."
"I saw his gaze upon me—he hated me, willing to kill me at any cost."
"I do not wish for war either, but they refuse to die…"
Alicent fell silent for a long moment, then in her heart, accepted that if war was coming, they must prepare.
Finally, she nodded.
"Aemond, I support your decision. Do what you must."
Aemond bowed his head in thanks.
"Thank you, Mother."
But then he spoke again.
"Mother, my father is already gravely ill. He must be shielded, inside and out, cared for well, and allowed to recover."
Alicent hesitated, looked at her son, and slowly spoke.
"Fear not. Viserys shall not learn. I will tell him nothing, and no one else shall."
Aemond rose, released her hand, took a step back, bowed deeply, and turned away.