Chapter 110 107

The Vale. 298 AC.

Ser Eustace Hunter.

Ser Eustace Hunter was satisfied. For several months now, he and his men had been fighting in the Vale's service against their blood enemies, the mountain clans. Contrary to the reasonable fears many had held about the fate awaiting the rebellious houses, given the lord of Arryn's well-earned reputation, the punishment had been mild. No mass executions, no attainders, no loss of lands, no crushing indemnities, no hostages taken, no exiles. The uncompromising and ruthless Falcon's Eye had shown magnanimity, forgiving the rebel lords in exchange for a few modest conditions that would benefit the whole region.

The lords had united behind a common purpose. There were no longer loyalists of Tullys or Baratheons or Lannisters. There were only men of the Vale of Arryn. And it had all begun with a feast, where the Falcon's Eye had set his dream loose among those present like a spark in dry grass. Eustace still caught himself going breathless when he thought back to Lord Arryn's speech.

...

It was into the third hour of the welcome feast, held in honor of the end of what people were already calling the "fish rebellion." Most of those present were drunk to varying degrees. Eustace himself had discovered his gift for drinking like a man at a young age, a talent that had on more than one occasion reduced witnesses to something approaching reverence.

A haze drifted beneath the vaulted ceiling of the Eyrie's great hall. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread hung in the air. The white stone walls were hung with the banners of every house present, even the former rebels had not been overlooked. Singers performed somewhere in the room, no doubt praising the Falcon's Eye and mocking the defeated, but their voices were barely audible beneath the hammering of cups and the booming voices of several hundred well-watered throats.

Then Axel Arryn, the host of the feast and lord of the Vale, rose from his seat. Those who did not notice at first were brought around by the sharp crack of an empty cup struck against the table and the elbows of their neighbors. The Falcon's Eye waited a few moments for the room to quiet, then took the floor.

"Friends." His voice was loud and assured, carrying to every corner of the hall as he spread his arms wide, as though gathering them all in. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the return of peace to our beloved land."

The lords responded with an approving rumble, rapping their cups and fists against the table. A raised hand from their host quieted them, and the Falcon's Eye continued.

"You all know, I am sure, that I spent nearly five years in Essos. You look at that society and you see their intrigues, their envy, their greed, their spite. Those merchants will lie and blackmail and kill without a moment's hesitation. And for what?"

The lords of Westeros had long and not unreasonably regarded magisters, merchants, archons, and every other variety of Essosi elite as venal creatures not worth trusting. In return, the people of Westeros were considered uneducated savages. Both continents had nursed these tender feelings for thousands of years, as Arryn now reminded them.

"For greater comforts, for greater pleasures, for a few extra copper coins and a pinch of power. The more they gain, the more they want. To poison a guest means nothing to them. To kill their own blood is nothing. To break every oath and every promise that they have done, and more than once. They are full of arrogance, hunger for power, and dishonor."

Many in the hall nodded and voiced their agreement. Insulting a despised neighbor was, after all, one of the great pleasures of the nobility.

"My soul ached for the Vale. I longed to return to this blessed land, where honor and pride and dignity still mean something. And here I stand, and I wish to ask you, my friends: what is the difference?"

The simple question baffled the room into silence.

"Why is it that here, in this stronghold of knighthood, I see exactly what I saw among those contemptible merchants? What are these intrigues for, these betrayals, these wars? We are the representatives of families in whose veins runs the blood of a hundred generations, those men and women who, defying every hardship and adversity, built the future we inhabit today. Our ancestors laid down their lives on the altar of our wellbeing, so that honor and pride and dignity would not become empty words in this world, so that fidelity to one's word and one's deeds would remain, as it always had, the foundation of how a man acts. We have all heard the stories of our great forebears, and we have all wanted to be worthy of them, so that our own descendants might one day speak of our deeds with that same breathless reverence. But what can we pass on to our children now? Ash and bitterness, the inheritance of a civil war?"

Every man wants his deeds to echo through the ages, even Eustace himself had wanted that. But if one was honest about it, more than nine in ten of every ancestor who had ever lived had simply... existed. They had not won great wars, had not built anything lasting, had not shaped the fates of millions. They had simply been, and become a nameless page in the family book that most readers skip over for being dull.

"Friends, I have no wish to be the second coming of anyone. I intend to be the man they sing of through the centuries, the man who made the Vale stronger than it has ever been! When I am old, I want to take my heir and show him the greatness of the world I helped to build. I want to see wonder in his eyes. And on my deathbed, I want to pass him my legacy, so that he may take up my banner and carry it forward through the ages!" The people heard him and recognized his words, because they wanted the same things themselves. "But my purpose cannot be achieved alone. I will need your support in this great undertaking. Friends, let us make the Vale the greatest realm in the world!"

Shouts of agreement, pledges of support, oaths of honor. Eustace barely noticed the moment he joined in with all the rest. For the first time in his life, he had found a purpose great enough to die for.