Chapter 209: Blood in Lys

The raven from Lys arrived a week later.

By itself, that was not unusual. Since Larra’s arrival, correspondence crossed the Narrow Sea often enough that the guards at the rookery had begun recognising the Rogare seals before the letters reached the royal apartments. Most carried updates concerning Lysandro’s health, banking matters Vaeron had requested, or messages from Larra’s siblings asking after her stay in King’s Landing.

This one was brought directly to the Small Council. The seal had already been broken by Larra. That concerned me before I read a single word.

She stood beside Rhaenyra when I entered the chamber, pale even by Lyseni standards. Aerion remained close enough that his presence could not reasonably be described as accidental, though he had enough sense not to touch her while half the council watched. Vaeron sat with another copy of the message before him, while Tyland and Lyman Beesbury spoke quietly near the windows.

Rhaenyra handed me the letter. "Lysaro Rogare is dead."

For a moment, I thought I had misheard her. I looked at Larra first. Her expression confirmed it.

"How?"

Larra answered herself. "He quarrelled with men belonging to one of the magister families. The letter says there was an argument over money and insults exchanged between households. Lysaro struck one of them, swords were drawn, and he was killed before his guards could get him away."

Her voice remained controlled, but the effort required was obvious.

"I am sorry," I said.

Larra lowered her eyes. "We were not especially close. That does not make him less my brother."

No sensible answer existed to that, so I did not offer one. I read the letter. The account was frustratingly incomplete, written quickly by one of Drazenko Rogare’s household officials and sent upon the first ship carrying trusted correspondence west. Lysaro had attended a private gathering hosted by men connected to one of the rival magister families.

The disagreement apparently began over outstanding debts and accusations concerning Rogare influence within the city. Wine turned argument into insult, insult became violence, and by the time household guards intervened, Lysandro Rogare’s eldest son was dead.

What followed mattered more. Rogare retainers had attacked properties belonging to the rival family before dawn. The rival magisters answered by calling their own household men into the streets.

Several warehouses were burned. Two Rogare counting houses had closed their doors. Armed men now guarded bridges and commercial districts where families possessed competing interests.

Lys was not officially at war with itself. Not yet. It was, however, performing an excellent imitation.

I lowered the letter. "Who is controlling the family now?"

"Uncle Drazenko," Larra replied. "Father is too ill to leave his bed for more than short periods. Drazenko has taken charge of the household guards and the bank until this is settled."

That differed sharply from what I remembered. I had expected Lysandro and Drazenko to die within a day of one another, leaving Lysaro to inherit a machine he lacked the temperament to control. Instead, Lysaro was dead while both older men remained alive, and Drazenko, reportedly still healthy, had stepped directly into the position from which he might prevent the collapse I remembered. Or accelerate it. History had changed again. Not subtly either.

Someone who should have lived long enough to ruin House Rogare had just been killed before he inherited it.

Vaeron waited until I finished reading. "This makes the succession inside House Rogare considerably less clear."

"That was my thought."

Lyman turned one of the other letters around upon the table. "It also makes their financial position harder to judge. Several Rogare offices apparently remained closed for two days after the killing. That may be precaution rather than weakness, but banks depend upon confidence almost as much as coin."

Tyland nodded. "If merchants believe a family feud may become street fighting, they withdraw what they can before discovering whether the vaults remain secure."

Larra looked towards him. "The Rogare Bank is not collapsing."

Tyland met her gaze without hostility. "I did not say it was, my lady. I said fear can damage a bank before its accounts do. That distinction matters if rival families deliberately spread rumours."

She accepted the correction, though reluctantly. Aerion had been silent until then. "What does Drazenko intend to do?"

Larra looked towards the second letter lying near Rhaenyra. "He intends to answer the family that killed Lysaro."

The sentence carried more worry than satisfaction. Rhaenyra folded her hands upon the table. "Does that mean legal punishment through the Lyseni magistrates, or men with swords?"

"My uncle did not specify."

"Then I suspect men with swords," Vaeron said.

Larra gave him an unhappy look. Vaeron did not soften the conclusion merely because she disliked it. "If this had remained a private killing, the matter might have ended with compensation, exile, or execution of the men responsible. Warehouses are already burning, and household troops are being summoned. The families have moved beyond one dead son."

I returned to the letter. The wording supported him. Drazenko had ordered Rogare ships concentrated around their principal docks. Household soldiers were protecting bank offices, family manses, warehouses, and several streets where Rogare dependents lived. Allies among other Lyseni families had been asked to declare where they stood.

The rival magisters were doing the same. A small war was forming one street at a time.

"How many armed men can the Rogares call upon?" I asked.

Vaeron answered from his research. "Directly, perhaps several hundred household guards and retainers. More if they hire sellswords, which Lys makes remarkably easy. Their allied families could add several times that number."

"And the other side?"

"Likely similar."

Lyman sighed. "Excellent. Bankers with private armies."

"Many nobles are simply bankers with older castles," Tyland said.

"That observation does not improve matters."

Ordinarily I might have enjoyed watching them continue. Larra was sitting in the same room. There was nothing amusing about her family preparing to fight in the streets of the city where she had grown up.

I dismissed everyone except Rhaenyra, Vaeron, Aerion, and Larra. Once the doors closed, formality loosened slightly.

Larra remained standing until Rhaenyra gestured towards a chair. "You should sit."

"I would rather know whether I am expected to leave."

Aerion turned towards her immediately. Rhaenyra answered before he could. "No."

Larra seemed surprised. "My brother has been killed. My family may be fighting. Father is bedridden, and Uncle Drazenko will need everyone he can trust."

"That is exactly why sending you back now would be foolish," I said.

She looked towards me. "You are Lysandro Rogare’s daughter and currently the subject of a proposed marriage to a Targaryen prince. Anyone trying to pressure your family would understand your value before your ship reached the harbour."

"I would have guards."

"So did your brother."

That stopped her. I did not say it cruelly. There was simply no benefit in pretending guards made someone untouchable after discussing a man killed while surrounded by his own household.

Vaeron opened the second letter. "Drazenko appears to agree. His instructions are explicit. Lady Larra is to remain in King’s Landing until the situation in Lys stabilises."

Larra frowned. "He ordered that?"

"He requested royal protection and asked that you not return even if you insist upon it."

Aerion looked relieved enough that I noticed despite his attempt to conceal it. Larra noticed as well. "You appear pleased that my family is fighting."

Aerion’s expression changed immediately. "No. I am pleased that you are not travelling into a city where your brother was just killed. I would rather the reason for staying were considerably less terrible."

Her irritation disappeared almost as quickly as it came. "I know. I should not have said that."

"You do not need to apologise."

She looked towards her hands. "I hate being here while they decide everything without me."

Aerion spoke more carefully this time. "If you went back, would they allow you to decide anything?"

"No."

"Then you would be in danger while still being excluded."

Larra gave him a tired look. "You have become annoyingly sensible."

"My father will be horrified to hear it."

"Your father is sitting beside you."

"I thought he might appreciate the recognition."

I almost smiled. Larra’s grief was too close for humour to settle comfortably.

Rhaenyra leaned towards her. "You will remain here as our guest, not our prisoner. Your household remains yours, your correspondence will travel freely, and if the situation changes enough that returning becomes reasonable, we will discuss it with you rather than simply deciding for you."

Larra nodded after several moments. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"You may call me Rhaenyra when we are alone. You have lived beneath my roof long enough."

Larra managed a small smile. "Thank you, Rhaenyra."

The immediate question was settled. The larger one became more complicated. House Rogare had previously worried me because I remembered its future too well. Now it worried me because that future had become useless.

Lysaro was supposed to inherit the Rogare Bank. He was supposed to squander wealth, anger rivals, become entangled in embezzlement, and contribute to a collapse that would eventually make marrying Aerion into House Rogare seem dangerously short-sighted.

Instead, Lysaro lay dead. Drazenko Rogare, who should have died alongside his brother, was still healthy enough to take control of the bank and prepare the family for conflict. My remembered history had not merely changed around the edges. One of its causes had been removed. I discussed that with Rhaenyra later that evening. She stood beside the window while I reread the letters for perhaps the fourth time.

"You should stop looking at them," she said.

"I am waiting for the words to change into something more useful."

"They have resisted admirably."

I placed the letter down. "In the history I remember, Lysaro survives his father. That matters because he helps destroy the family’s position after inheriting it. Now he is dead before Lysandro."

"And Drazenko?"

"Should die around the same time as his brother."

"Yet he is currently organising soldiers."

"Yes."

Rhaenyra turned from the window. "Then perhaps this is good news for the marriage."

"I would hesitate to describe Larra’s brother being stabbed as good news."

"You know what I mean."

I did. The removal of Lysaro could theoretically make House Rogare more stable in the long term. If Drazenko remained alive and competent, he might preserve the bank through Lysandro’s illness and arrange a better succession afterwards. The problem was that he might first begin a private war in Lys.

"Aerion wants her," Rhaenyra said.

"He likes her."

"He wants her."

I considered correcting the wording and decided there was little point. The two had grown closer every day. Aerion had begun his interest with the subtlety expected of a fifteen-year-old prince meeting a beautiful foreign girl. It had since become something more substantial. He sought Larra because he enjoyed her company, not merely because she looked different from every Westerosi lady sent before him.

Larra sought him too.

After the council meeting, Aerion remained with her for most of the afternoon. They walked through the inner gardens without joining the larger court, accompanied only by appropriate attendants. He did not attempt to distract her constantly from her brother’s death. Sometimes they spoke. Sometimes they simply walked.

That told me more than his earlier enthusiasm ever had. "If House Rogare loses a street war, the match becomes politically poisonous," I said. "Aerion could marry into a family stripped of power, wealth, or even driven from Lys."

Rhaenyra considered it. "And if Drazenko wins?"

"Then we may find ourselves tied to a family powerful enough that half of Lys resents them."

"You are making a strong argument for never marrying anyone."

"That remains one of the safer diplomatic strategies."

"We have seven children."

"A flaw in the strategy."

She laughed quietly.

The next several days brought more letters. No decisive battle occurred. Instead, violence remained scattered throughout Lys. A Rogare warehouse burned near the harbour. Several men belonging to the rival family were killed outside a winesink. Sellswords began appearing around wealthy manses in numbers large enough that ordinary citizens avoided entire districts after dark.

Drazenko tightened control over Rogare properties rather than immediately launching the great retaliation I feared. That was encouraging. He also sent another letter directly to Rhaenyra. His language was formal but unmistakable.

Larra was safer in King’s Landing. She was to remain there until he personally wrote that the danger had passed. He thanked Rhaenyra for extending royal protection and made clear that Lysandro, during one of his better periods, had approved the decision.

Larra accepted it after reading her father’s name. Not happily. But she accepted it. Her planned visit therefore stopped having an end date. The court responded predictably. Within days, rumours claimed Larra’s continued residence meant the betrothal to Aerion had secretly been agreed. Others suggested she had been sent to Westeros because House Rogare expected to lose its position and wanted one daughter beyond reach of its enemies.

Neither was true. At least not yet.

Aerion, unsurprisingly, regarded the extension of her stay with considerably less objection than Larra did. I found them in the library one evening. Larra sat beside a window reading a new letter from Lys, while Aerion had placed himself nearby with a book he had clearly not turned a page of in some time.

He looked towards me when I entered. "Has there been another raven?"

"No."

Larra folded her letter. "That is becoming good news by itself."

"For now."

She looked tired. King’s Landing had become safer for her precisely because Lys had become dangerous. There was an unpleasant symmetry to it. I left them together.

The Rogare question remained unresolved, but the nature of it had changed. A week earlier, I worried that marrying Aerion to Larra meant tying House Targaryen to a family destined to collapse because an incompetent heir would inherit its wealth.

That heir was now dead. History had removed the problem I remembered and replaced it with one I did not. Drazenko Rogare had taken control. Lysandro remained alive but bedridden. Lysaro lay dead after a foolish dispute became murder. And somewhere across the Narrow Sea, two wealthy Lyseni factions were gathering armed men around warehouses, banks, ships, and family pride.

For the moment, there was only one decision I was confident about. Larra would remain in King’s Landing.

Whatever happened to House Rogare next, she would not be standing in the streets when it happened.