"Tywin Lannister is dead?"
The words left Aldric's lips as a whisper of disbelief. He had never met the Old Lion, but he had seen the shadow the man cast over the world. He had spent countless nights staring at the flickering campfire, wondering how his two thousand spears could possibly withstand the tens of thousands of veteran Westermen Tywin could summon with a single raven.
Aldric had planned to hibernate, to hide in the mud of the Gods Eye until the Lion grew bored or returned to Casterly Rock. But fate had intervened. The greatest threat to the Dawn had been struck down—not by a hero's blade, but by a crossbow bolt in a privy, held by his own son.
"Is the word true?" Aldric pressed, his heart hammering.
"A secret like that burns its way through the realm," Sandor Clegane grunted. "By the time the moon turns, every tavern from Lannisport to White Harbor will be singing about the Lion's end."
Alis Waters stood frozen, her face pale as bone. "The Hand is dead... the court will be a slaughterhouse. Every merchant who held a King's warrant will be looking over their shoulder."
She looked at the scorched forest around them, then at the "brigand" commander who stood before her. In King's Landing, she was a small fish in a shark tank. Here, in the ruins of the Riverlands, there was a vacuum of power.
"Lightbringer," Alis said, her voice regaining its edge. "I care little for ghosts. I want to see this 'Reconstruction.' If Saltpans can truly become the gate to the Narrow Sea you claim it to be, I will not only sell your sugar—I will bring my associates. Men with gold and ships who are tired of the Queen's taxes."
Aldric smiled. "Then ride with us. You'll see the new world born tomorrow."
By twilight, the Dawn's host was within five miles of Shell Keep, the ancestral seat of House Cox. Aldric called his officers to a council.
"You've heard the word from Kevin," Aldric began, looking at the assembled captains. "Saltpans is a graveyard because Ser Quincy Cox hid behind his walls while the Mummers butchered his people. He failed the first duty of a Lord."
"We should toss him into the bay," barked Aldiba, now a captain of the vanguard. "The Free Folk would never follow a craven who hides while his hearth burns."
"He lives," Aldric corrected, looking at Friar Ray. "I have given my word to Elder Perry of the Quiet Isle. Quincy is a failure, but he is not a murderer. I will not start our reign with a regicide of minor vassals. We will 'lease' the town. We provide the steel and the coin to rebuild; he provides the legitimacy."
Aldric turned to the others. "The three hundred refugees we've gathered are the new blood of Saltpans. But they cannot build with hope alone. Every soldier will pick up a shovel. Every Sunwalker will lead a masonry crew. To build a wall is just as much a battle as taking one. Understood?"
"Understood, Commander!" the captains roared.
At dawn, the Golden Dawn stood before the gates of Shell Keep.
The rising sun caught the polished Sun-Steel of the Praetorians, creating a shimmering wall of white light. Red banners bearing the Seven-Pointed Sun snapped in the salt breeze. It was a sight designed to overwhelm.
"Ser Quincy Cox! Come forth!" Kevin shouted, riding his horse to the edge of the moat.
The old knight appeared on the ramparts, his armor rusted and his eyes wide with terror. He looked down at the disciplined legion, then at the unfamiliar banners.
"Who are you?" Quincy wailed. "We are loyal to the Crown! We pay our tithes!"
"We are the Golden Dawn!" Kevin cried. "We come by the will of the Light to bring order to this ruin! Open your gates and your family lives. Resist, and we shall see if your stones can withstand the Sun."
"The Faith? But King Maegor forbade the Faith from bearing arms!"
"Maegor is a pile of ash!" Kevin countered. "You have failed your people, Ser. You have no strength left to hold this port. Open the gate. I count to ten! One... Ten! Assault!"
The Dawn didn't wait for a reply. On the signal, heavy wagons at the rear were unlatched. Soldiers moved with mechanical precision, assembling pre-fabricated siege ladders and leveling heavy steel-armed crossbows at the battlements.
Quincy Cox shrieked in panic, calling his twenty ragged men to the walls. The air turned electric as the two forces leveled their weapons.
Suddenly, Elder Perry from the Quiet Isle rushed between the lines. "Stop! Lightbringer, Ser Kevin—hold your fire!"
Kevin signaled the crossbowmen to ease their triggers.
"Ser Quincy!" Perry shouted toward the wall. "Look at them! You cannot win this. Do not let your granddaughters pay for your pride! These men are not Mummers. They offer peace!"
Quincy's face was beet-red. He pointed a shaking sword at Kevin. "The boy didn't even count! He went from one to ten in a breath! How can I talk to a savage who won't even give a man time to pray?"
Aldric stepped forward, his voice calm but absolute. "Ser Quincy, the time for counting is over. You have twenty men; I have four hundred. I do not want your blood. I want your port. Yield the keep, and I will see your family housed in comfort at the Monastery. You will keep your titles, but the Dawn will keep the peace."
Quincy looked at the grim pyramid of heads the Dawn had left at the town gates the day before. He looked at the gleaming plate of the Sunwalkers. He looked at his terrified squires.
"I demand the respect due my rank!" Quincy croaked. "And I demand Elder Perry witness the pact! My wife... my children... they must be safe!"
"They will be safer with me than they ever were with you," Aldric replied.
The portcullis of Shell Keep rose with a heavy, rusted groan. The Golden Dawn marched into Saltpans without shedding a single drop of blood.
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