39

They quickly searched the city for anything of value. They found provisions for a week or two for the men stationed here, which would maybe stretch to a moon's rations for their group if they conserved. There was an arms depot stocked with the Ghiscari short swords, iron rimmed wooden shields, quivers and quivers of arrows, which made Neenee smile the first that Aegon had seen, and a barrel of what they assumed was the black powder. Shevrohn half expected to find real wealth, but Aegon had grown to imagine Zlatan's lust for more than just worldly coin. He was after power.

Any man who controlled the weapon would immediately become one of the most dangerous men in the known world. Aegon wasn't concerned with the specific ways one could use it, but from what they witnessed from the boat, it wasn't hard to imagine a way to use it to break down a castle wall, crumble a bridge, level a building, and of course, destroy a boat with ease and little man power. Mix that with the stealth it allowed, a man like Zlatan could sail to Westeros and take all of Kings Landing with four or five well placed barrels.

The group argued over what to do with the barrel they found. It was full of a black powder, fine like sand and seemingly harmless, but it was painted a red skull on the top of it, and all present witnessed the boat explode. There was no question bringing the barrel with them would be considerably dangerous, but it was also potentially the deadliest weapon they had against their enemy.

They also commandeered two more ships. Each was a smaller trading galley, like Aegon captained as Harwin Snow, but both could be used for whatever they decided their purpose for them was. Assuming they could agree upon what should be done next.

One camp, Shevrohn, Neenee, and Trihknah, wanted to travel back to their clan's new encampment with the supplies and weapons, and fortify themselves against an attack. Aegon, which meant Chekka, which then meant Trihknee, whose fondness for Chekka grew tenfold since his foolishness against the slavers, wanted to sail further east around until the fire mountain where JaHahn said the yellow mine was. Nahknani seemed impartial, though Aegon read it as being on the return home side, but wanting to stay with him.

Shevrohn said, "We need these weapons to defend our people. What use are they if we do not have the men to wield them with us? These provisions would feed and help our people more than we need. If we sail to meet the full force of the slavers and JaHarle, they will torture us, then kill us. Let us claim our victory and celebrate with our people."

"The pink king is right in this, brother," Chekka said, "If they're rounding up all of our kind, when they have more of the weapon, nothing will be able to stop them from taking us all, or killing us."

Neenee spoke in their tongue, then Trihknee. Aegon did not want to butt in until all sides were heard. He would let anyone who decided to return the chance to do so, but he wanted them all to decide on their own where they really wanted to be. He would take anyone willing with him, but if he convinced any of them himself, and they died on his watch, his mission, he would never be able to forgive himself. He'd been responsible for too many deaths already.

Which is why when he looked into Nahknani's stressed face, he couldn't help but already feel guilty.

He took her aside and spoke only to her in a soft tone, "Where do you stand in this? I don't want you to go against what you feel is right."

"Right again," she said. "No one knows this, even when you try. I thought killing JaHahn when I did was right, but after doing it, I feel it wasn't. You've said this weapon and these slavers are the enemy this whole time. Following you. Leaving my father. Falling for you. Which of these is right? There is this weapon of fire. There are these slavers here to take us. Yet, I feel my people need me. Need us." She reached out and grabbed his hand. "Come with us. Come back."

"You already know what I must do. You already know where I must go." Aegon felt a strange sense of duty. Honor. He knew none of these Brindled people for more than a week, but he knew more than most about their plight. Being hunted. Used. Put to work by force. He'd never been a slave, but he'd been a servant his whole life. Born from three of the most powerful families in Westeros, reduced to scrubbing pots and decks, fetching drinks and meals, and rowing. Years and years of hard rowing. He had never been freer than he was since the crash. He had never been more himself. He'd never been more a Targaryen than he was now, killing the unjust and defending the weak and innocent. With Fire and Blood. He had never been more fulfilled in his life than he was as the Drahkness Kahn to this strange people.

"You act as if you owe us anything. What do you owe the Brindled Men? We've beaten you, chased you, and attacked you when you reached out to us to help," she said.

"You've also cheered for me, followed me, witnessed me become more than I ever was." He smiled, then continued, "And you've loved me. How could I not fight for you and your people?"

"Fight for me and my clan, not my race. The rest that are either captive or hunted have little to nothing to do with the rest of us. Our clan is safe, now-"

"Yes. Now. Not for long, though. What do you think they will do when JaHarle eventually hears about the murder of his son, or the losses their forces have suffered at our hands? Do you think he will forget about us and leave your clan to live in peace? No. Your clan will be safe, for a time, until Zlatan needs new slaves for the mine or JaHarle wants to repay your clan with retribution."

"But how do you hope to defeat an army?" Nahknani said, a final plea against his wishes.

"I'm not sure yet, but I believe this barrel will be of some use."

The rest of them bickered back and forth as Nahknani and Aegon embraced and continued their own discussion. Nahknani would go wherever he went, she said. "No matter how far you run, you will never be rid of me." Aegon didn't ever want to be rid of her, so there was a strange comfort in the curse seemingly put on him. He just hoped he could keep her safe.

"Listen friends," Aegon blurted, interrupting the groups debate in their tongue. "Both sides of this argument have merit. I, for one, believe we must continue, but where we go, there may be no turning back. Fortunately, we have two boats. One will return with most of the provisions and all of the weapons to the clan's camp. The other, will head east towards the mines and Zlatan's forces. I do not want to force anyone to continue. Those that want to return, should and will."

"If we split up our numbers, how could you hope to win against the slavers? With seven would be near impossible. Three or four would be even worse." Shevrohn said.

"We will bring this barrel with us and show the slavers how effective a weapon it can truly be. We do not need to kill every man in their army, just enough of the ones in charge to liberate the slave army. We don't have to erase them from the map, just cripple the mines so they cannot continue to produce the weapon. With stealth, four effective warriors with a purpose can do more than thousands and thousands of slave soldiers that fight because they are forced to. Hopefully, they'll never even know we were there." Aegon responded.

The group arguing to turn back quickly agreed, save Shevrohn who seemed guilty for giving up on his pink king. There was also a sorrow in his eyes, knowing that his younger brother was one of the ones choosing to continue onward.

Trihknah and Trihknee also continued a spat between the two. Trihknah, it seemed, for he could not understand their words, was passionately pleading to her sister to return with her. Trihknee had found something to keep her going. What it was, Aegon didn't know. Chekka. A sense of duty. The taste of blood and the promise of more bloodshed. Aegon wasn't certain, but he did know, in the end, her sister's pleas were unable to shake her resolve, and Trihknee stayed with the group that would continue.

Neenee and Nahknani had a private conversation between themselves. Nahknani handed Neenee a crumbled parchment with what looked like Valyrian scribbled on it. The Brindled People had never made words to their language to write down, so all written correspondence between them was usually in Valyrian or another foreign tongue. It was little used, but it seemed Nahknani wanted to send her father home a message. Aegon prayed to the old Gods that she would be able to see him again. But again, he thought of the Old Gods' limits in this place, and felt ominous finishing a prayer he feared useless.

Both boats were easy enough to sail, especially since Shevrohn had become proficient enough to trust with a ship of his own. The group loaded up the cargo for the returning boat. As they did, Aegon turned to Shevrohn and said, "All ships need a name, especially when they change hands. It is bad luck to sail without naming your vessel. What will yours be?"

Shevrohn pondered the thought for a moment. "This ship is your gift to our people. The ship will be called Drahkness Hohn, or "The Dragon's Hope." What will you call yours?"

Aegon thought about it before asking Shevrohn and quickly responded, "Drahkness Frahn" I think it means Dragon Flame."

"Frahn means hot or heat. Drahkness Alroh is Dragon's Flame."

"Arlo?"

"No, Al-roh. Flame."

"That's what I'll name it: Alroh. Flame. Its simple and sounds like a person's name. Alroh."

"May you have more luck with Alroh than you did with your first ship." Shevrohn giggled to himself, though Aegon was already thinking much of the same.

"And may your sails be full of wind and your holds be full of riches. That's something we used to say when departing a good friend before a voyage." Aegon said.

"You consider me a friend, your grace?" Shevrohn asked in jest.

"Truer than most I've ever met. I wish you well and I pray we see each other again."

"I will pray as well, but for your mission to succeed and for you to survive. Watch over my brother for me. He looks to you as a hero from the stories of our youth and follows you blindly. Do not take his loyalty and serve him with death for trusting you. If the odds are too great, if the mission you're set to embark on proves suicidal, please spare him. Let him live. I fear he wants to die the hero, yet he has only barely begun to be alive."

"I will watch over him as I would my own brother. You have my word, if the odds are too great, I will suffer my fate alone." Aegon held his fist to his heart as he took another solemn vow. Though he felt uncomfortable with the lives of others once again his responsibility, it was the least he could do for this man who sacrificed himself to his cause before even truly believing it.

"With what we've learned from JaHahn, Ootrahk and our clan can prepare ourselves for what is next. Thank you, Aegon Velaryon, may your path be clear and your aim be true."

"Yours as well Shevrohn of the Brindled Men." They grasped each others' wrist and shook their arms in the way the Brindled People did. Then they embraced for a hug, and departed off onto the boats they had chosen. The paths they had chosen.

Chekka followed his brother onto his boat for a last embrace, talking and holding each other before once again departing to their chosen destinies. Aegon was moved by the embrace and hoped the two would see each other again.

Trihknah and Trihknee seemingly couldn't release their own embrace. Nahknani told Aegon as they waited the twins had never been apart for more than an hour or two at a time. They ate together. Worked together. Hunted together. Even fucked together. This was the first time they would ever be apart, and the bond between them seemed almost too strong to sever. Aegon hoped it would only be for a time.

Nahknani personally said goodbye to each of the three individually. She curtly and coldly shook Trihknah's arm, hugged and thanked Shevrohn, and bowed and touched foreheads with Neenee. All the goodbyes seemed an ominous start to their journeys, as each individual looked into the eyes of the other as if it might be the last time. All in the group knew the dangers Aegon's group would encounter, though not specifically, and each member departing looked as though they harbored guilt for turning away. But nonetheless, as the boats were loaded and the goodbyes were said, the two crews manned their posts and set off. One boat East. One West. Both toward uncertain futures and fates.

One way or another, this world was about to change forever. Aegon hoped it was for the better.

Aegon's ship Alroh made it out of the port and onto the open sea in good time for a small galley. Without cargo, the ship was fast enough, and they followed the coastline east towards the fire mountain and where JaHahn confessed the mines would be. The crude map Shevrohn had drawn was with them, and he tried to follow the marks, though none were consistent with what he saw.

Aegon spent the first hour of the voyage avoiding large peaking crags of jagged rock that seemingly knifed through the water's surface threatening to down their ship only moments after setting off on their voyage. Trolling so close to the shore became increasingly more and more dangerous, and after one close call too many with the sea floor's pointed obstacles, Aegon decided it would be safer to make their way further out to sea, avoiding the jagged coral and sandbars that meant to sink them.

Out on the open ocean, they wouldn't have to worry about sinking from running aground, but there were other dangers in the middle of the big blue Summer Sea. Aegon refused to focus on them just yet, though he prepared himself for the steps they'd all have to take to ensure their safe passage.

Aegon sailed in the light of the setting moon. Attacking again at night meant little to no sleep, and the boats were loaded and out of port before sunrise. The moon was bright until just after they embarked on their journey as they sailed toward the rising sun. But the sun had still yet to peak its warm rays over the horizon and the moon still shone dimly over the dark sky. Morning would mean light enough for Chekka and Trihknee to man the ship until Aegon could get some sleep.

He steered the rudder in the depths, keeping the coastline within sight. Nahknani climbed up to him from the captain's quarters where she settled his and her things, and asked him, "How long before we get back on land?"

"I don't know yet," he said, "maybe a day or so."

"How will you know when we've reached where we need to go?"

"I'll know. We'll all know." Aegon remembered one of the last things he saw before that night the boat sank. Coming around Lesser Moraq, he could barely see the coast of Sothoryos. When he did, one of the last things he remembered seeing was the volcano, or fire mountain as they called it. It wasn't active, but it stood out among the rest of the peaks, and he remembered a Southern Islander familiar with Sothoryos remark as they passed a story of when it erupted long ago. That was a day's sail from when he crashed, or so he thought.

The mountain wasn't where they would anchor however. They needed to approach whatever forces with stealth, so they planned to overshoot the volcano and ferry ashore further east. They didn't know the territory, so they could troll slowly figuring where, and circle back around once they decided on a spot if need be. If a bay or natural harbor seemed clear, they'd take it, for they had the black powder with them, and he knew enough that he and his group would have to be delicate in order not to set it off.

Light began to peer over the horizon and the blinding rays from the morning sun stung off the glare of the rippling ocean. The water here was clear blue, deeper than one could imagine. He squinted, peering through the rays to glimpse his last course before retiring to the captain's quarters.

He called to Chekka, "Ser Chekka of the Brindled Men, it is your turn to navigate."

"Your grace," he obliged, "it is my duty to serve."

Aegon nodded, hearing, "Your Grace," in a foreign tongue and felt he was growing tired of their game. At first, it was satisfying to speak and hear the words as if they could have been, though not in the common tongue of the land he had claim to. Since he again accepted his truth, hearing his repressed lineage from the full red lips of the red woman, he sometimes would wonder What if my father survived the Gullet? What if he survived The Dance? But those lies felt less hopeful and more hurtful. Those potential scenarios were less than words. And if words are wind, what more are hopes and dreams than the nothingness of still air. Motionless. Formless. Useless. Nothing at all, in the end. If words are wind, dreams were less than that. Dreams were nothing.

He'd never be the King of Westeros, and he knew that. He'd known that, even when he continued on to Asshai. All he wanted was to return home with enough cargo to explain the sudden unexplainable wealth he obtained when he earned the dirk, extracted the name of his betrayer, and took his revenge on the man who meant to profit off of his bounty. When Harwin Snow killed Captain Harrus, he stole his gold. Decades worth of savings only the Captain and Har ever knew existed. The Captain had been embezzling taxes taken at the port in White Harbor for years, bribing the workers with cheap wine and cheaper whores, he managed to siphon off one tenth of the port's tariffs for over twelve years Har knew of, and kept the gold underneath the tiles of his privy. Har caught him one time hiding it there, pounds and pounds of it in a sack the size of a human. He remembered the Captain's explanation for the hiding place. "No one'll ever look so near shit, Har, my boy. No one ever gives enough of a shit to get into actual shit."

"Don't call me that so much. I'm no actual king, you know." Aegon said, his voice haggard as he battle with the negativity in his head, a clear side effect from his growing exhaustion.

"And I am no actual knight, nor Valyrian, nor Westerosi. But neither are you a Brindled Man, yet you're here on the front line of this war, risking yourself for the lives of our people. People my brother and the others wouldn't die for." He reached his enormous palm and grasped Aegon by the shoulder. "It seems you'd be glad to die for them. Which either makes you an insane asshole, or a damn good one. I don't follow you because your father's father proclaimed himself a ruler."

"It was actually my father's mother," Aegon said in jest.

"Really?" Chekka asked, actually interested.

"Really. It's a long story. I'll tell you all about it once I've gotten some rest," Aegon said.

"Wait," Chekka stopped him, "Let me finish. I don't follow you because your ancestors told my ancestors what to do. You live without fear of consequence because you so truly believe in your choices. This is why I liked the stories of knights. They lived to save others. They used their strength when the weak needed help. This, to me, is glory. To live and die so that others can live longer and die later. And that is why I follow you. That is how a king should live."

Aegon wished he could have explained "doing what was right" to Nahknani as well as Chekka had just described it to him. "I appreciate your words, good ser, but please, refrain from dying. I made a promise to your brother. He wants you to live."

"If there's any way we can survive, you would be the one to figure it out. Go, rest," he said, ushering Aegon to the ladder to the chambers below deck. Aegon allowed himself to be guided, and climbed down to where he found Nahknani sleeping, and Trihknee dressing to go above deck.

"It's our turn to sleep," Nahknani said, her face flat on its side on a worn cotton mattress atop a wooden bunk nailed to the wall. She didn't open her eyes or move a muscle other than her jaw and lips. "Find another bed. I need my space."

"Fine by me," he said, too tired to quip or respond with anything other than the least amount he could say to not be rude. He found the nearest bunk, plopped on it limply, and mumbled, "Good night," to Nahknani so inaudibly he figured she didn't hear. And she didn't, or was too tired herself to respond.

He drifted into a deep sleep. His unconscious waited for another dream, something telling or revealing to further color his previous one about the night his boat sank. Nothing happened that he could remember or felt coherent enough to comprehend intelligibly.

Suddenly, he was being shaken awake by Trihknee, her arms jolting his shoulders back and forth on the cot, yelling to him something in their tongue. When he opened his eyes, every couple of words she'd yell in Valyrian, "Stupid!" than rattle off more of her own tongue.
"What? What is it," he managed to respond rubbing his eyes awake.

"Come," she said, bolting up the ladder to the deck. He followed, with as much haste as his still half sleeping body could muster. As soon as Aegon climbed off the ladder from below deck, Chekka called to him, "Aegon, look, on the horizon." He pointed to a dark shape bobbing up and down in the distance, seemingly dancing on the surface of the water. It was a ship.

"Corsairs," Chekka said. "They seem to be on us, and I don't think this boat can outrun them for long."

Great Aegon thought with a yawn. This again.