Chapter 36: Of Shadow and Gold
Editing credit to Rainsfere.
…
Early Evening – The Riverlands, Northern Border of the High Heart Forests – Shadow
The village elder grunted as he was slammed back against the wall within his hut, eyes wide in fear as the cloaked stranger had him pinned. "Please sir! I've told you all I know…I answered your questions!" He pleaded.
"Yes…and they were piss poor lies." The Shadow growled. His cloak hood covered most of his face, though the elder could see the scarred side along with a hateful glaring eye. One hand yanked at his large cap, revealing the elder's balding head and exposing the injury on the left side, the ear cut completely off. "Let me guess, mercenaries…or are you going to claim it was an accident like the last elder?"
"W-What do you mean?" The man nervously stammered only to get a fist at the stump of his missing ear. Howling from the pain, he sobbed before getting yanked to stand up straight.
"Because the last two elders I chatted with were also missing their left ear. So is missing ears a new thread these days?"
The elder didn't reply, only glancing away fearfully.
"That aside, this village and others I passed through seem quite well off despite the war going on. You have no House soldiers or mercenaries protecting you. What is keeping you all safe?"
Catching his breath, the elder answered. "We…we're simply secluded. Too far for any lordship to guard us…yet out of the way of the sellswords."
Shadow didn't argue on that matter, moving onto the next clue. "So despite the fact these villages are so populated and supplied, I noticed one strange thing…no children. Where did they all run off?"
"I…no one has young. T-That is the simple truth." The man got a hard knee to his ribs, drawing a grunt. "W-We sent them away…we h-had to…"
"Why?" Shadow growled, the elder remaining silent. Suddenly he drew a wicked curved dagger from his hip, holding the gleaming blade up to the man's face. "Tell me where you sent them off or you'll be losing that other ear of yours!"
Clenching his eyes, the man trembled as cold steel touched the side of his head. "The Oracles! The Three Sisters! High Heart!" He spoke out desperately. "They offered to take them in. Watch and nurture them until the warring was over…when we could care for them all without worry."
The assassin was silent, keeping that dagger up for a moment longer before pulling it away. "So you traded them off. Trusted them to these Oracles…" He threw the man down to the ground before sheathing his weapon. "I may be a cutthroat, but I'd never would sell off any kid to some strangers…no matter what they'd offer."
"Heh…a thug with morals…" The elder muttered, only to get a strong heel pressing down on his knee.
"Now these Oracles. Tell me more about them."
"I don't know where they come from…or what power they use…" The man muttered.
"Power? Like magic?" Shadow questioned. "Sounds like you and the other villagers are being conned."
"You doubt…and that will mean your doom. They are powerful, wise…and they care for us unlike our Lords who abandoned us just to protect themselves!" His tone showed bitterness as his facade was now gone. "They will make things right for us…so long as we pay the price for it."
Shadow smirked hearing this. "Always comes down to a price. At first it will seem fair, but these kinds of people…they will bleed you dry then toss you aside for someone fresh." Moving his boot off the elder, he moved towards the door out. "Thanks for the talk elder. You've been very helpful."
Grunting, the man struggling to get up before hissing as the grasped the left side of his head. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" He repeated, drawing an odd look from the assassin. "You've made a mistake coming here stranger…like all the others. You'll not live to see the dawn."
Pausing at the doorway, Shadow smirked at the warning. "I've survived a Hell once old man. Those Oracles of yours better send their worst." Leaving the hut, he approached his horse to untie it and mount up. Villagers were watching him nervously, muttering as they saw their Elder hobbling out from his home to watch the black cloaked stranger ride off north into the woods.
Night Fall
Shadow had made sure to get far away from the village, not wanting to worry about the locals trying to mob him. It wasn't the first time he had angered a whole community and he didn't care in the end. He had gotten the information he had been looking for…even though it left him with more curious questions than answers. He carefully wrote what he had learned in his journal along with theories he had collected. Considering Zarin and his strict focus on detailed reports.
"Not like I can recommend any plans of removing these Oracles." He muttered to himself as he finished his writing, putting the charcoal piece away along with the book. Prodding the campfire, Shadow paused as he had a gut feeling hit him…that honed instinct of being watched. For the moment he didn't move or even drift his gaze about. Considering beyond his campgrounds it was near pitch black, he had learned that hearing could be a more reliable sense in finding an unseen foe. The first chilling detail was the silence…the usual sounds of animals were simply just gone.
Then came the first noise, a cracking and creaking sound that reminded the assassin of a tree caught in a storm…or perhaps cracking bones. The issue was there was a lack of any wind in the air. Each crack sounded like a footstep, slow and heavy…coming from right behind him. "Bear…has to be a bear…" He muttered to himself, though the lack of snarls and growls proved otherwise. One hand drifted to his pack where his quiver and ironwood bow were in reach. Flexing his fingers before taking a breath, he lunged into action.
Tucking his body into a roll, he snagged both his weapon and arrows, drawing one barbed missile before nocking it. In one fluid movement he had tumbled onto a kneeling crouch, drawing the string back as he aimed. Adrenaline shut down any fear he felt at the moment, even as he stared down a tall lumbering figure in the darkness of the forest. The thing was nearly double his height being close to ten feet tall with the head crowned with an antlered head piece…or perhaps just a skull. The chest and shoulders seemed to have a crude wispy cloth covering it, with branches sticking from the shoulders, the largest of which was crowned with a pieced human skull. Its legs were shaped like trees, thick at the foot while slimming down as it joined the hips which were covered by tattered leather material. The arms were unnaturally long as the long-clawed fingers hung low to the knees of the creature.
The Shadow's examination was fast, the assassin trying to calculate a weakness to this unnatural horror. A normal man would have hesitated in pure terror, but he knew such hesitation would be death for him. "Right for the heart." Muttering those words he let his arrow loose, the powerful bow and lethal arrow going right for the creature's chest. It slammed right where the heart would have been… 'would' being the key word as the antlered figure didn't even flinch. It's head turned downward at the arrow with what the assassin deemed as curiosity, as if never expecting anyone be foolish enough to try that.
"Ah fuck…"
With that low curse given the tree like monster raised its arms upward before giving an unearthly howl that echoed throughout the woods. The noise made the assassin yell in pain as he covered his ears, while his horse struggled madly where it was tied up, trying to bolt even as the knotted rope kept it from fleeing. When Shadow glanced up the creature was seemingly gone from where it had stood.
"Gods damn it all…" He cursed as his mind was rapidly thinking over what to do. Right now he was going against something his favored weapon couldn't even hurt and while he had a sword, he doubted it would do much better. "Freak would rip me to pieces…"
"Aye you were always shit using a sword."
"Shut up..." Shadow growled at the memory before hearing howls in the air, wolf howls. "What, does this thing have pets as well?!" Already he readied another arrow while his gaze rapidly looked around the surrounding woods. Already he could see quick movement about, furred forms slopping between the trees and brush. "Ugh for once I wish Marcus was here…" A pair of glowing yellow eyes showed at the edge of the camp clearing, Shadow agilely shooting an arrow into one. The beast didn't have enough life to even whimper with that barbed arrow deep in its skull.
"Come on you mutts!" The assassin called out before another beast rushed at him. Two arrows struck at a lunging wolf, wounds that normally force any beast from a continued attack, yet this one endured. He sidestepped a bite at his leg before lashing out with his bow. Normally it would be foolish to strike with a bow shaft, but with the weapon being made of ironwood made it as powerful as a reinforced club. The satisfying crack of the beast's skull being split made the assassin grin. It had been difficult and costly to make the bow out of the exotic material, but to the assassin it was worth it.
However he had little time to enjoy his latest kill as two more wolves came, making him return to shooting. This time he focused on shooting for the head, since these beasts seemed driven to attack him relentlessly. One wolf was quickly dropped but the other just weaved around his next shot. It got in too close before he could bash with his bow as the beast bit down at his right leg. "Gah! Not…that one!" He cursed out. The sharp teeth didn't pierce the mix of tough leather and cloth, but the pressure of the bite strained on his old injury. The wolf yanked him off balance, falling to the ground roughly. Knowing the rest of the wolves would close in fast if he didn't get free, he reached for the short sword he kept close by, drawing it out before thrusting the blade right into the wolf's forehead.
"Stab if you can't hack it! There is a reason a blade has a pointy end!"
"I know…" Shadow muttered again remembering that annoying if insightful lesson. Letting those troublesome memories fuel his anger, he got up before hearing a whooshing sound in the air. Looking about he saw black fluttering movement in the trees followed by a near deafening amount of cawing. "You got to be fucking kidding me?!" A murder of crows swarmed him, the assassin was quick to react as he tugged his cloak hood low and grasped the fabric to wrap around himself. The sturdy fabric lessened the countless pecks and claws, but it was going to become a death from a thousand cuts for him.
Dropping his bow, he made a crazy move as he tumbled through the campfire, the vicious crows breaking off their attack. Once more the cloak helped prevent being burned, though the garment and leather armor did get singed by the flames. Grabbing a long piece of burning wood during his roll, the glove mostly protecting him from the smoldering heat. As soon as he was back on his feet, the crows swarmed back at him though he was quick to swing about the burning log. He yelled out fiercely as he stuck a few of the black birds down while the rest flew away from his improvised weapon. The murder of crows flew at the ground, dispersing into black smoke which from it stepped that looming tree like monster.
"Gods…now I've seen everything…" Shadow muttered in shock as the creature seemed to drop onto one knee before slamming both clawed hands deep into the earth. The ground rumbled before it bulged and buckled as what looked like roots surged forward. Despite the surprise, years of experience made the assassin leap aside, only getting the brunt of that attack. The bursting roots threw him across the camp with it scattering his weapons and pack around as well.
Slamming to the ground, he coughed and panted as he rolled onto his back, shifting to sit up. He could hear the creature stomping slowly closer, no doubt ready to finish him off. Already his mind was rapidly thinking over what to do, trying to find a means to slip away or a weapon to at least hurt the monster. His gaze drifted to his pack, focusing on a black metal and leather-bound sphere that had rolled out onto the ground. "Still have Zarin's little gift." He muttered to himself. The alchemist had shared his most dangerous weapons with the rest of the Grims, a final resort for dire situations. Problem was reaching and getting it lit before that thing ripped him apart. "At least take it with me…" The creature neared him; one long arm raised up as it was ready to stab him with its long claws.
Suddenly a large gray furred form pounced onto the right side of the creature, interrupting it's attack. Shadow realized it was a wolf that had just saved him, a very large one considering it was near double the size of the ones that had just attacked him. The beast chewed and yanked at the creature's shoulder, keeping it distracted as the tree like monster thrashed about trying to shake the wolf off. Not hesitating with this opening, Shadow rushed for the discarded bomb along with snagging a smoldering splinter from the destroyed campfire.
Lighting the fuse, he pulled his arm back ready to throw it just as the wolf was knocked off by the monster. The large wolf retreated back while the tree monster turned to look at the assassin who gave a wicked grin. With the fuse low, he threw it at the monster, making sure the arc was close to its head. Quickly he took cover behind a fallen tree and cover his ears before the bomb exploded, fire and shards of metal filling the air.
At last the monster gave a howling sound of pain, the blast having taken off its left arm at the elbow and cracking the antlered head as well. With its upper body set on fire; the creature flailed around with it's one good arm as it fled into the dark forest. Shadow peeked out of hiding as he watched the light from the flames become distant before disappearing. "Not dead…but at least gone…" He sighed before standing up. His was quite roughed up between his right leg aching from being chewed on and having being pecked at by those crows. "I'll live…been through much worse…" He muttered to himself as he looked around the camp. From the darkness the large wolf appeared, making him tense at first as the beast moved to the slain smaller canines. It sniffed the corpses, giving low whines before focusing on the charred arm of the monster which it growled at. At a closer look he realized this one was also a female canine.
"That is my prize." He spoke up, getting the wolf's attention. "Not sure why the hell you jumped in like that…then again you're a strange mutt." The wolf tilted it's head slightly as if puzzled, seeming to understand him to a degree. "Acting like Marcus's pet." Chuckling, he limped over to his pack before taking out some dried meat. "Not much but here…" He tossed the rations aside which the she-wolf approached, sniffed then began to eagerly eat up.
With his animal savior distracted, he examined the tree like arm curiously, even nudging it with one foot. "Well got some proof I guess. Marcus better have a spot on the wall to hang this." Despite being burned, the limb was quite sturdy when it picked it up along with being lighter than expected. "Well…think I know what has been killing people snooping around now. Guess that thing must be some servant to those Oracles." Really that monster reminded Shadow of the tales of the Old Gods servants, aspects of nature given physical form to defend the land. "If it can be hurt it can die. Still…this is going to complicate things…"
With the horse now calm, he worked on getting his saddles repacked and his trophy hanging off the side. Right now he didn't want to linger here in case the tree monster wanted it's arm back or something worse came along. As he mounted up, he notice the large she-wolf sitting close by watching him intently. "No…don't you dare think about tagging along!" He growled at the wolf who barked back as if to argue. "Last thing I need is you eyeing me in my sleep. Bet you'll just chew me up when I least expect it…" There was a long pause as the wolf just sat there, tail wagging slightly about. With a sigh, Shadow bowed then shook his head. "This shit always happens to me…fine…but you lag behind I'm not looking for you!"
With that warning given, he kicked his horse forward down the trail. By now the hints of the sun started to show as early morning neared. His eyes were heavy and body aching after what he had endured, but the assassin didn't slow in his ride. "Cheated death again brother…" Shadow chuckled to himself. "I won't pass on…not until I repay you in kind…" With renewed spite pushing aside exhaustion, the assassin continued on northward with his unwanted companion following close behind.
…
Late Morning – Crownlands, King's Landing, The Dragonpit – Tyrion Lannister
Bronn yawned loudly as he leaned back against a stone column that made up the large entry way of the Dragonpit,. A relic of the grander days of the Targaryens, the pit used to house their dragons during times of peace and as entertainment for the masses. Course that was around a hundred and fifty years ago, with the fully sized dragons having disappeared decades before that. Since then the pit had been left alone, the roof top had caved in, letting the elements into the 'area' part of the pit. Since then the pit had been sealed for safety reasons…until Tyrion had the cunning idea of repurposing it.
The sellsword watched the newest wave of refugees coming up the Street of the Sisters. It was a mix of Riverlanders and Crownlanders, people who favored the royal family or simply wanted safety here in the capital. Considering King's Landing had little space to house the few thousands that had arrived over the months. While Tywin wanted to improve the Lannister's image ever since Joffrey's attempt to execute Lord Stark, even he had no suitable plans to manage such people.
"Keep in an orderly line everyone! Get yourselves logged with the scribes before heading inside. Rations and supplies will then be given before the guards show you where your group can settle." Tyrion spoke out from the platform where the bookkeepers were set. The dwarf was dressed in usual finery in the red and gold colors of House Lannisters along with the pin of the Hand set on his chest. Since being appointed as Hand of the King Regent, Tywin had given the dwarf a quite difficult first task.
"The war will bring hundreds even thousands seeking safety here to the capital. Ensure they are properly managed so that we can rebuild our image to the people and help support our war efforts. Currently you have the best reputation thanks to your efforts hosting the late king's tournament, so put that to good use."
Giving parting instructions to the guard captain and head scribes, the dwarf left the stage to go rejoin Bronn. "Already been a month since this project began. If I remember correctly you bet that this would end horribly."
The sellsword shrugged as the two began to walk down the Street of Sisters, making their way to the intersection of streets at the bottom of the hill. Close behind were a few Gold Cloaks following along, keeping watch over the dwarf. "Well we were half drunk at the time. You were nearly pulling your hair out trying to think of a place to shelter and make them useful."
"Then with the rising dawn the shadow of the pit showed outside the window. Quite the inspiring moment." Tyrion chuckled. "While the dome has fallen apart, the inner chambers are suitable for people to live in. After all it was meant to house multiple dragons. Add in that it has wells for water and proper links to the sewers makes the place a luxury compared to camping outside the city or cramming themselves into Flea Bottom."
Bron nodded. "Aye you did mention all that before. Course getting food and supplies is costly with so many."
"Which I also prepared for." The dwarf countered back. "With the war going on we do need workers to meet demands. Fair pay be it with coin or rations. In fact clearing out the scrap iron and copper from the Pit's fallen dome has proven to be the most benefiting. Plenty of material to be melted down for reuse and keeping the unskilled busy."
"Heh idle hands make for thieving ones as they say." Bron jested. "Then again you've had me and the Gold Cloaks busy. Didn't mind the promotion with Janos being sent off to the Wall, more pay after all."
"Plus you're more qualified in my eyes. True the nobles in the court grumble, but you get results. Crime has gone down notably in all districts over the last month."
"Didn't hurt also knowing the right names to look out for…along who should be tossed into a cell." The sellsword smirked a bit. "At least I don't have to worry about a knife in the back with most of that lot getting the noose soon."
Tyrion nodded in agreement as they neared the bottom of the hill. "Now all we have to worry about is how the King Regent will handle our three looming enemies."
"Personally, your family is fucked in that matter unless your father can pull some very hidden strings."
"Knowing him he most likely is." As they were about to head eastward for the Red Keep. As they passed by the main street leading into Flea Bottom, the City Watch guarding the area seemed to be holding up a large cart from passing through. Riding on the cart was a hunched man wearing a ratty brown cloak with the hood covering his aged face. Sitting beside him was fair copper skinned woman, a Dorinish woman who wore tanned cloth wrap and soft leather clothing covering her slender form.
"I'm sorry but we need to hold the cart for inspection. Can't risk that you may be smuggling illegal goods." One guard sternly ordered.
The Dornish woman gave an annoyed frown hearing this. "This is ridiculous! We've traveled far just to bring supplies for the people of Flea Bottom."
At that point the old man waved his hand to calm the woman down, giving a low sigh. "Forgive her sir, the girl is just passionate for helping others. All we carry are dried food, clothes and the like. You can check for yourself, we have nothing to hide…but I don't wish to delay much longer."
"I'll decide on that old man." The guard muttered as he paced around the cart, pulling the tarp covering the supplies back. Under it were small crates, baskets full of dry plants and bundles of clean fabrics. The guard did shift a few things aside before finding something stashed under a stack of cloth. "Ah what's this then!" He pulled out a stack of books wrapped up in sturdy twine which he fiddled roughly with.
"Don't touch them like that!" The old man snapped out, a quite fearsome glare showing in his eyes. The remark had the other guard spear up slightly, but the aged driver calmed himself. "Just…those books are very delicate. They're my personal collection."
The guard chuckled at the remark. "Personal? Since when can a low born read?" Shaking his head as he held onto the books. "Plus even a light book isn't cheap, too much for a lover of the needy to afford. Perhaps you stole them…"
At that point Tyrion approached with his horse to speak up. "A bit rude to accuse an old man of such a thing. Also last I checked Westeros doesn't have laws making it illegal for even lowborn to own a book."
At first the guard was ready to snap back when he turned to face the dwarf, only to quickly recognize him and the pin he wore. "Ah my lord. Umm…you just can't be sure with these types."
Bronn scoffed at the remark. "Heh the elderly type?" He jested though he did gave a curious look to the old man, though said nothing more.
"Mind if I see one of those books?" Tyrion asked the guard, who nodded. "Let's see…The Dance of Dragons, A True Telling. Wonders Made by Man. True History. Quite a focus on history and lore from what I see." Flipping through one book, he examined them further. "Bindings seem different from Maesters methods too. How did you come by these?"
The old man nodded. "Yes...from a scribe friend of mine. It was a payment by my request."
"Curious…and may I ask how you learned to read as well?"
"My mother taught me some basics at a young age. She was a wise woman…always inspired me to learn about the world to better understand it."
"Wise words that I agree with." Moving closer he gave a kind smile to the Dornish woman, offering the books to her. "And your assistant here? Not often we see a fair woman from Dorne after all."
The woman gave a charming chuckle. "You could say I'm…an adopted granddaughter to him." Gently she patted the old man's shoulder. "I would have been lost if it wasn't for him, so I strive to help his cause."
"A noble endeavor then. However I fear I've taken enough of your time." Looking to the guards he gestured to them. "Let them pass. The City Watch have better things then to pester honest Small Folk."
"As your command my lord." The guard replied, seeming annoyed yet obeying.
The old man had a faint smile on his face, nodding gratefully to Tyrion. "You are a good man Lord Tyrion…one with so much potential." The remark did draw a curious look from the dwarf though he didn't question it. "Perhaps we will meet again honorable Hand. Sevens fortune to you." Grasping the reins he moved the cart forward towards Flea Bottom, the last sight being the Dornish woman giving a smile and parting wave.
"Definitely was toward me." Bronn suddenly remarked, snapping Tyion from his thoughts.
"What?" He asked in confusion.
"The Dornish girl. She definitely had her eye on me." The sellsword smugly explained as they continued their route eastward for the Red keep.
The dwarf rolled his eyes at the claim. "You hardly spoke considering."
"Aye but while you were chatting with the old man she looked at me as if she recognized me." Bronn smirked at the thought. "Then again if we met before I'd never take my hands off her."
"Ugh…and I thought I was the lecherous one." Tyrion jested, though before he could say more, he could see the crowds ahead parting as Gold Cloak riders were coming down the hill from the Keep. The leading guard stopped before the two before speaking.
"Lord Tyrion, your needed at the Red Keep for a foreign visitation."
A curious look crossed both Bron's and Tyrion's faces. "I don't remember any formal guests for today. After all, we have to ensure all visitors are safe for the King's audience…especially with him stilling recovering." The dwarf muttered the last words disdainfully.
Since the execution and Joffrey's injury, the boy had been mostly confined to his chambers much to his anger. It took a private scolding from Tywin to make the young ruler behave, making the dwarf wish he had witnessed that conversation. In those following months he was being tutored by handpicked specialists to improve the boy's knowledge and manners…with some notable results. Still considering everything Cersei had filled into his head along with Robert's neglect, there was only so much that could be done.
"King Joffrey wished to host an audience with this group. They claimed to be wealthy group from Essos seeking to support his claim to the throne."
"Ah no doubt with plenty of coin and in return gracious favors." Bronn muttered as the group continued to move on, hurrying their mounts' pace.
"Whatever the case, father isn't going to be pleased with Joffrey working behind his back. If these are outsiders wish to support us, we need to be mindful of their intentions." Tyrion replied back in agreement. "We can guess all we want, let's just see for ourselves!" The dwarf got his horse to the front of the group, the rest of his guards hurrying to keep up with their charge.
…
Flea Bottom, King's landing – Zarin and Alya
The cart turned down a side alley that looped around a large building, one of the many orphanages that graced the crowded capital. Slowing the horse down, Zarin sighed as he pulled back his cloak hood to rub one hand along his thinning dark hair. "Luck is on our side once more. Lord Tyrion saved us a bribe." The alchemist chuckled. The cart soon stopped behind the orphanage, parking close to a large wooden doorway on the back of the building.
"I can say the dwarf's bodyguard was…familiar." Alya remarked as she hopped off the cart, stretching her slender form after the long ride.
"Curious." Zarin muttered, though he was more focused on tugging the ratty cloak off along with the under shirt he had covering his faded red robes. He also made sure to grab the bundle of books that had been nearly taken away from him.
"It was the look in his eyes. Sharp and cunning, though lacking that cold killer edge…in fact they looked quite lazy." She smirked before shrugging, following her companion to the doorway.
"Observant as you are my student, your youthful does distract you…thankfully outside of our work." The old man jested before knocking at the door, rapping his knuckles in a pattern before stopping. After a short moment of waiting, there was a click as the door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman dressed in the white robes of a Septa, a priestess of the Faith of the Seven.
Seeing Zarin, she gave a warm smile to the old man before bowing her head slightly. "Master Zarin, it's been far too long since you've visited."
"It has Nyla. My work has kept me busy, but I've come bringing plenty of gifts for the youths and needy." He gave a short hug to the priestess before gesturing to the cart. "Food, clothes, fabric, medicine and of course coin. Please ask for the men to help off load this…oh and take the marked crates below as well."
"Of course." She moved aside to let them by, also giving a respectful bow to Alya.
The two walked down a hallway, the sound of children chatting and laughing being heard from the surrounding rooms. Stopping at one door, he looked inside to show a room with a dozen desks with kids sitting at them while a young man in plain clothes paced around the room watching the kids. They all had parchment and charcoal, busy practicing writing the letters of the Common Tongue down…though a some added a few doodles to their work.
The young teacher looked, giving a short approving nod before noticing the visitors at the doorway. "Ah! Zarin, it's been a while since you've visited us."
Hearing his name had a few kids, mainly the oldest ones drop what they were doing to look at the old alchemist. "Uncle Zarin!' "Grandfather!" "The master is back!" Quickly half the class rushed him, drawing a surprised yelp as they all tackled him to the ground in a group hug.
"Gah! Children please!" He chuckled as he got up, giving kind pats on a few giggling kids heads. "Gods all of you have grown up so much since I last visited…" Walking over to the desks, he looked over their writing to give a pleased grin. "…and your writing has improved so well. I'm sure many of you will become wonderful scribes."
"The teacher says I'll be able to be an apprentice like the others. Then I can work on your inventions!" One boy eagerly answered.
Alya chuckled as she decided to speak up. "Very noble of you. We need eager young minds to help with the cause after all." The compliment made the boy blush a bit, shyly glancing away from the fair Dornish woman.
"Now I do have a gift for you and all the other classes." Setting the bundle of books on a desk, the group was quick to check the names on the bindings.
"The Dance of Dragons! I've always wanted to hear that story!" One girl remarked excitedly.
"Is that the Wonders? I bet I can name them all before we even read it!" Another student boasted.
With the kids distracted, Zarin spoke to the teacher. "You've done very well educating them. A worthy effort." He complimented.
"It's nothing sir. They are an energetic bunch, but eager to learn. I'm proud to at least help them towards a better future for themselves."
The alchemist nodded in agreement. "Anyway I do have other matters to attend to. I'll be sure to come share a lesson with all the classes over the coming weeks. For now speak with Nyla and the other teachers to ensure the children get their gifts."
"Of course sir."
Zarin slipped out of the room, a few children noticing and giving quick goodbyes. "It surprises me how much control you have here master." Alya remarked. "Just how long have you built up this place?"
"Many decades, even before I joined the Alchemists Guild." He explained. "Basic education is nonexistent in this country. Only the rich and highborn have such benefits so I sought to change that. Let's just say it's been hard to do without drawing suspicion…this being more of an example of what could be done across the continent."
"Heh, the Maesters be fuming and the nobles grumbling." Alya jested. "You know how much both enjoy their control."
"Yes…which we'll change in due time." The two had moved down to what seemed to be a simple closet with a cupboard within. Opening the doors, Zarin rubbed his hand along the inner rim of the frame to tug at a hidden latch. The back of the cupboard clicked as the hidden doorway was unlocked, a stone stairway leading down into a large cellar below. It was a large space which had a dozen men and a few women covered in deep red tunics mirroring Zarin's alchemist robes and fine working leathers in their experimenting. All around this underground hall were workstations dedicated to differing crafts. Alchemy, literature, woodcraft, metalcraft and weaving were just a few of the subjects these innovators were working on.
Alya looked around surprised, impressed at what she saw. "I've seen plenty of your hideaways and labs, but never thought you had this many students in one place." Already a few of the students stopped what they were doing to approach them, all giving respectful bows to their teacher and the female Grim.
"My disciples. It's been nearly a year since we last met and it seems your work has gone quite well."
One of the students stepped up to speak. "We have been working on your notes for quite a while, building and improving on your designs over time as well."
A pleased gleam showed in the alchemist's eyes. "Good. You follow the tenants of my lessons well. Always look from a different perspective. Observe the facts with your own eyes. Then be mindful on what you can change." With him sharing those wise words, he walked across the workspace to a large wooden and metal contraption. "Yes…this is perhaps the most valuable out all my designs."
The device was seven feet tall and between five to seven feet long, the length being that of a sliding rail with a sturdy wooden base and a shallow boxed frame. In the boxed frame was metal sheet with engravings set along the surface. At the end there was a slopped arched frame that had a large piece of parchment bound to it, with a hinge allowing the material to be lowered onto the metal sheet. At the middle of the device were two thick wooden pillars that supported what looked like a wine presser, mix of wood and metal drop hammer perfectly set between the strong posts.
Zarin traced his fingers along the letters, getting an idea on how well carved each one was. "Amazing. Such detailed craftsmanship." He muttered before looking to his disciples. "I see you took quite the inspiration from the Braavos wine press. The large frame does take up more space…but..." He moved to grasp the crank, tugging it forward to the lower the press down. "…yes…it offers wider pressure downward. My drafts had to being too thin and light weighted..."
"The frame was by far the easiest part. We simply imported a press before modifying it." One of the disciplines explained. "The hardest part was the lettering. Took months to get the moldings correct and the right metals for smelting. Much of that we had to do here in the workshop."
"Impressive…" Zarin muttered as he paced around the machine, studying every detail. "A demonstration then."
The disciples nodded as one moved to a table beside the device with ink bottles, trays and soft leather pads with grips. "First we apply the ink with these pads. We tested different means of spreading the ink, pouring it proved messy and brushes were too course on the metal. Soft leather in the end proved the best choice." He tapped the pads along the metal plate, taking a good minute to ensure every letter was coated. "Then the rest is simple. We set the bound parchment over the plate, slide under the press and let the pressure do the rest." Following his own directions, the disciple soon had the sturdy paper under the wide wooden press, twisting the crank sideways to tightly compress it all together. "It will take a few minutes for the ink to set in and dry enough."
Alya stepped up, examining the machine curiously. "So just how many pages can this thing even make and how quickly?" She questioned.
"If by the usual size of a book or tome, about four per press. The time-consuming part is ensuring the lettering on the plate is correct, unless you prefer garbled text." One disciple explained.
At this point Zarin speak up. "The reason is about the speedy production of books. While you've written your share of letters and messages Alya, the art of literature and transcribing is a tedious one. Weeks or months of work, where any mistake or mishap can ruin the whole process." At this point one of the disciples raised the press, letting the alchemist pull back the slide then carefully unbind the piece of parchment and examined it in the light. "With this books won't be limited to just the elite of this world, with the common folk given a chance to learn for themselves."
"My that would be frustrating for the Maesters I can imagine." Alya chuckled. "Considering the vast collection of books within the Citadel, the idea of even a fraction of that knowledge being copied and shared would drive them mad with rage."
The remark made the alchemist smirk. "I was young when I went to Old Town seeking out the Maesters. The lobby scribe was quite surprised seeing a dirty travel-worn boy approach him, then simply request to join as a novice." The memory made a fierce gleam show in his eyes before he set the parchment in his hands down. "Yet they held me in contempt…"
The Maester lashed the back of his hand across the boy's face, knocking him to the ground. "Once more you show your arrogance boy." The old man muttered coldly before snatching the books and notes the boy had on the desk. "Always you question what we teach…you doubt the gift of knowledge!" The boy wiped the hint of blood off his lip, eyes glaring sharply at the man.
"You are banned from the archives for a month and you'll do double chores for a week, boy. Perhaps that will discipline you." Moving to leave the room, he gave a final look at the novice. "I question why we let a lowborn like you here. If you have any sense in you…you should just leave and accept your place in the world."
With the door slammed shut, the boy shifted up to stand before fixing his novice robes. Moving over to his desk, he slipped one hand under it to pull the black leather journal he had hidden. "They all say the same…accept the way things are. I wonder…how will they feel when I tear it down?"
Zarin nodded to himself on that memory, his gaze looking back at his students and fellow Grim. They all knew the man had reminisced, a habit he had during such passionate moments. "The past is the past. What matters now is our actions today…" Pausing before continuing to speak. "Alya, you will work on gathering information with our informants. I want to know what is going on within the Red Keep and all the districts before we make our introduction."
"Of course. I will also send messages to my supporters in Dorne. If enough mutterings about the civil war fill Sunspear, my father and uncle will have to take quicker action with their own plans."
"A wise move. We need the Martells to tip their hand so you can take control from them. It is key to our success." Zarin remarked. "That aside, we must be prepared for our demonstration in the coming month. How has the weapon designed gone so far?"
"Very successful, your original designs didn't need as much modifying compared to the press machine. We've already created working examples, which only need your approval." One of the disciples answered.
"Very good. As questionable as it may seem, these weapons will indeed save more lives in the end." The alchemist's gaze drifted into the storage space, a faint grin on his face as he could see the outline of said weapons in the darkness. "Like the dragons of old…only of metal and wood. Armies will tremble at their roar and castles will crumble under their might…" He muttered to himself before looking back to his assistants. "Let us begin."
…
Red Keep, The Throne Room – Tyrion
It had been a while since most of the Lannister family had gathered together, though it was simply a mix of timing and luck. From his seat beside the Iron Throne, Tyrion looked across the large throne room at all the gathered ranging from his family, members of the Small Council and the usual courtly audience. The dwarf's gaze drifted to the Iron Throne itself, with Joffrey sitting on the high metal seat.
The young King was sitting back as comfortably as he could on the metal throne, right hand resting on one of the pommels that made up the armrest. Wrapped around said hand was a soft leather hand brace, designed to ease the ache in his recovering limb. Despite this and doses of painkillers, Joffrey always grumbled about subtle pain, which the Grand Maester called 'phantom aches'. It was more of a mental than physical injury, trauma of the incident making Joffrey continue to feel discomfort. The boy king had picked out his usual regalia though instead of the Lannister red and gold, it was black and gold for House Baratheon. Despite the fact they at war with both brothers of his late 'father', the boy seemed to respect Robert's House more than his own. Even the banners along the right side of the throne room even had the rearing stag hanging above their heads.
On the opposite side was Cersei who stood as close as possible to the Throne. Ever an alluring sight in her red and golden gown, she had a calm look on her face though her eyes showed a hint of anger in them. The last few months she had been separate from Joffrey to avoid muddling his tutoring and given little say in political matters. While she had been obeying Tywin's directions, there was an air discontent about her.
Beside her sitting on a regal carved chair was Tywin, who kept a sharp eye on his daughter. It was obvious he didn't like this sudden gathering since it was unplanned, though he seemed to allow it just to keep Joffrey in line. With him being King Regent, he had to find moments like this to pacify the young king, make him feel like he had some authority still.
At the forefront of the Iron Throne was Jaime and the Kingsguard, the eldest Lannister brother wearing the armor of the Lord Commander of the royal knights dutifully. His eyes had a serious gleam in them, a look the young knight had had ever since the fateful family meeting after Lord Stark's trial.
Along the sides of the hall were the Gold Cloaks, with Bronn among them along Tyrion's side. With some insistence, the sellsword had donned the iconic colored cloak, though his slight movements displayed his annoyance.
On the opposing were was the members of the Small Council. Lord Baelish, Varys and Grand Maester Pycelle gathered together. The three quietly muttered between each other, either scheming, bantering…or perhaps both at the same time. All of them were under close watch by Tywin after all, even Baelish who was publicly honored for 'exposing' the Stark conspiracy. They all had their own motives in mind, though everyone did in these opportune times.
"Even those across the Narrow Sea…" Tyrion muttered to himself, wondering how long it took these so called 'Silent Monks' to prepare themselves. From what the messenger had detailed, they were a group of cloaked occults from the far east of Essos, coming from the exotic yet vague lands beyond the Bone Mountains and Jade Sea. Considering he had never heard of such a group despite all his studies, the promises of gifted wealth did have the dwarf curious at the least. Still, he had made sure the Watch and Kings Guard were prepared for any surprises.
From the far end of the hall, the heavy doors opened up before a courtier entered with nine hooded robed figures following in two single filed lines. Their garments were plain in design, with each robe being a different color to tell each occultist apart. They wore their hoods low and had cloth facemasks covering their mouths and noses, obscuring their faces. The cloaked men carried along an assortment of chests, ranging from small trunks to hand caskets. Leading the group was a black robed occultist who carried a long case, fitting for a sword from Tyrion's judgement. Once the group neared they spread out in a forward line before their leader gave a low bow.
"I am honored that I and my humble group could have this rare audience." The man spoke out, his voice having a thick accent that rolled over each word. "When word reached our ears that the venerable House of Lions has claimed the Iron Throne, we saw fit to pause our journey to visit."
The flattery did draw a small smirk to Joffrey. "Kind words. While the Seven Kingdoms are facing…a divide of late, we don't let such matters hinder our hospitality." The boy formally greeted.
"Yes, especially when said guests bring so many gifts." Tywin plainly stated. "As the serving King Regent, it is my duty to advise my grandson and have a final say on official matters." He glanced back to Joffrey, the boy glaring at him slightly.
"Speaking of these gifts, may we see just what you have brought." Tyrion quickly stated. "While your arrival was on short notice, the guard and port master did inspect you beforehand…claiming you've brought a small fortune in fact."
A small chuckle did escape from the man as he gestured to his companions. The heavy chests were set down then opened revealing gold, silver and copper coins while the caskets contained jewelry and gems. The sight of such wealth drew whispers from the gathered hall, even the Lannisters were intrigued by what they saw. "Humble as we are, we understand the value of such material things. In our travels we've collected much, saving it for an opportune meeting such as this." The lead monk explained.
"A very impressive gesture, one that we welcome." Cersei coyly remarked, having stepped up a bit to eye the jewelry within one of the caskets. Jaime stood close by, still on guard among the cloaked men, though his gaze focused on the black clothed one. She picked out a ruby ring, even trying it on to see how well it fitted.
Even Tyrion got up to examine the lavish gifts, reaching into a small chest to examine the coins, a colorful mix of currencies from the Free and Slave cities of Essos. "While these gifts are generous, I have a feeling there is more to this than you are letting on."
While the facemask hid the man's expression, Tyrion could tell a grin crossed the man's face. "More of a demonstration of what I and my men can offer." He formally stated, though this time his voice now lacking the exaggerated accent, having the more familiar hints of Westerosi to it. "The fact is, I know the royal family isn't in a position of strength despite how you act." He waved out to the gathered throne room. "Just my visit here shows it…this courtly gathering is little more than a distraction to the threats closing in from all directions."
Joffrey frowned as the man's words had taken a sudden turn now. "Are you implying that I am a weak ruler, monk? That my family can't keep a few lowly traitors from bringing chaos to the realm?"
The man bowed his head slightly. "Not at all. You after all have the advantage of defense along with hosting the continent's most well-armed and trained soldiers. Perhaps you can hold the line against Lord Robb and Lord Renly…yet can you do it when Lord Stannis brings a fully armed fleet to your very harbor?"
That detail did draw chatter from the crowd, since everyone knew of the Baratheon having taken most of the royal fleet under his control. The Lannisters only had a handful of ships, only enough to barely protect the routes through Blackwater Bay and the capital's harbor.
"From my understanding Stannis doesn't have the men to mount an attack by sea." Tywin spoke up, calming the chatter. While the late Lord Stark has falsely claimed he is the true ruler to the Iron Throne, he hasn't gained as much support compared to Renly."
A low chuckle escaped from the monk. "That is true my lord…however we both know he has others to seek out aid. After all, the Stark sisters…hmm…are such powerful bargaining chips in the right hands…"
"For an outsider you seem to know far more about the politics in Westeros." Tyrion sternly spoke up. "So why don't we get to the point stranger, with you showing us your face and who you really are."
"Unless you prefer we yank that hood off for you." Jaime muttered, giving a rare show of wit in his threat.
There was a tense pause at that point, the monk remaining silent the whole time. All of the other 'monks' remained calm except for the one on the right of the black robed one, shifting and glancing about in obvious nervousness. "Fair enough…best we move onto a proper introduction…"
Tugging back his robe hood, revealing black hair and a dark leather eyepatch covering over his left eye. His face was roguishly handsome, his beard having been trimmed down slightly since the battle against the Fury a week back. The wide-eyed expressions that spread among the court showed how many recognized the infamous Iron Islander, since his face was on every wanted board on both continents. Cersei backed away slightly surprised yet intrigued by this reveal. Tyrion though had a more guarded reaction, expression stern as he moved aside more quickly.
"Euron Greyjoy, captain of the Silence at-" Yet in the middle of his greeting, Jaime had his sword drawn, blade right at the pirate's throat. Bronn was just as quick to signal the guard to surround the fake monks with their spears out at them. Despite it all Euron didn't pause in his speaking. "…your service."
Worried muttering filled the hall as the noble onlookers seemed almost in a panic, though Joffrey spoke up. "Silence! There is no reason to be fearful now." He sternly ordered before an amused smirk crossed his lips. "I know plenty would pay a fortune for your death, considering how much of a scourge you are all across the Narrow Sea."
The pirate shrugged at the claim. "That is true your grace…though if you kill me it will simply delay your own family's end." He simply stated, his words making Jaimie's sword press more to his throat.
"You think you can bargain with us that easily?" He muttered to Euron threateningly.
Cersei spoke up. "Whatever the case, perhaps it's worth hearing what he has to say." She stated before glancing over to her son. "If he can't offer anything then he and his men will face the King's justice."
Tywin was silent at the proposal, though even he seemed curious about the pirate's intentions. Joffrey soon nodded in agreement. "Fair course mother. Very well Greyjoy, tell us why we should spare you?"
Nodding, the pirate moved one hand up to gently nudge Jaime's blade away from his throat, much to the knight's annoyance. "Like I said, you may be able to hold out against your enemies on land, but by sea you have little defense." He clearly explained. "Considering I was able to sneak in by simply 'borrowing' a small trade vessel, you lack any real defense out in the water."
"Yet as my grandfather said, Stannis lacks the soldiers to attack us. Unless he has hired a few thousand mercenaries or gained new supporters, then I doubt he could break our defenses."
Euron nodded in agreement. "True. Even I wouldn't want to brave such an attack without some advantage." A faint grin though hinted his face. "However about a half a week back I had a chance encounter with Stannis' flagship, The Fury, heading northward for White Harbor no doubt to return the Stark daughters to their worried elder brother."
This news wasn't unexpected, though mutterings began to spread. Joffrey had a hint of worry on his face, knowing full well of an alliance being formed. "Surely Stannis wouldn't be foolish enough to return the Starks back without guarantees." He tried to argue.
"Well…considering the Witcher was on board and nearly single handedly took on a whole long ship of my men…I'd say the girls were on that war galley." Euron simply explained.
Hearing about Geralt drew a smirk from Jaime, considering the Witcher had achieved another impossible feat. "Seems you and your men greatly misjudged who you were going up against. If a ship full of pirates can't best just one man, then they must be quite lacking in battle" He jested, though he didn't let his taunting distract from the subject at hand. "If this is true though, then Stannis could gain more support from the Storm Lords with close ties to the Starks. Enough to attack from land and sea…"
"So in the end you are informing us of a threat we were expecting." Tywin spoke up, ending the muttering. "That doesn't change the matter on your fate Euron, in my eyes at least."
"King Regent Tywin." Euron gave a short nod to. "The issue is you require a fleet to protect this city, though from my understanding you don't have the resources or time to build one nor the coin to hire one from the Free Cities." The mention of lack of coin did make the old Lannister give a narrow glare, that detail not being expected. "I however can provide you a fleet."
Tyrion scoffed at the idea. "Of pirates? I doubt the collection of ruffians and ships will do well against a professional battle fleet that Stannis has at his command." The dwarf argued.
"Of course not, even I know my current…companions, wouldn't stand a chance in this case." The pirate shook his head. "What I am meaning is the Iron Fleet, the united force of the Iron Islanders."
"So…trade your band of pirates for a hateful band of raiders." Tyrion stated before glancing about at his family. "That doesn't sound that better of a tradeoff."
"True, but Euron has a point." Tywin muttered. "The Ironborn are masters when it comes to battling at sea, dedicated for ship to ship combat. They preventively attack our forces while they were anchored, leaving them defenseless. Even the ships that did set sail couldn't outmatch the navigation and ranged skills Iron islanders have. Our guest here planned it all, an efficient and ruthless strategy."
"At my brother Balon's orders." Euron simply stated. "Which my other brother Victarion lead the attack. Surely you can't blame me for being tactful under the orders of my…former liege." His tone was jesting, though had a hint of distaste to his brothers. "Despite that blow, that rebellion was doomed to fail despite my urging. I'm sure if the Iron Isles had succeeded, that attack would be sung very much like the Rains of Castamere."
The mention of Tywin's total and brutal victory over the rebellious House Reyne brought a hint of a smirk to the man's face. "The victor does write the history as the Maesters say." He remarked. "So then…how do you plan to deliver us this Iron Fleet? From my understanding you were exiled by your own family, under the threat of death. Hardly a strong position."
"From a certain point of view." Euron shrugged. "You see I understand my family very well. Balon is a bitter and predictable man while Victarion is unshakingly dutiful to our ways. With the conflict going on Balon will gather up the Ironborn crews to lash out against the North, thinking their defenses weakened with them marching south."
"Yet with them allied with Stannis, they can keep more men within the North. Any attack by the Ironborn will not go unnoticed." Jaime remarked.
"In turn it could put the Iron Isles at risk of being attacked once more…if Stannis does overcome us." Tyrion added. "He has long seen the Greyjoys as a threat and always had been against Robert not removing them fully from their position of power."
At this point Joffrey understood the man's intentions. "You plan to replace Lord Balon and give us the support of the Iron Isles then? Doesn't sound like a simple task."
"Oh this is something I have been planning for some time, only waiting for the right conditions to make my move." Euron replied back with a small grin. "Yet I can tell you all have doubts on my trustworthiness and capabilities."
"Considering your reputation, it's reasonable to question that." Tyrion offhandedly remarked, with Jaime and Tywin nodding in stern agreement.
"Well my current gifts are sincere." Euron gestured to the laid-out riches before drifting his gaze. "However I have something special for you Lord Tywin, something that your family has lost and been searching for a long time." He nudged the long wooden case at his foot. "If you'd be kind to look inside that…"
There was a pause before Tyrion nodded to Bronn. "Captain, bring it to the King Regent if you please."
The sellsword sighed, though obeyed as he walked over to pick up the case all while giving a sharp glare at Euron. The pirate kept that confident look on his face as Bronn moved over to Tywin, holding the case out so the Lord could open it. Undoing the latches, Tywin opened the casing before shifting a piece of fine red fabric aside, revealing what lay under it. Because of his position it was hard to see what he saw, yet whatever it was had the normally composed man in shock. Curious looks showed in the other Lannisters as Tywin gave an unsteady breath as he calmed himself before closing the case.
"Anyone who isn't a Lannister, member of the Small Council or our…guest is to leave this hall immediately." He spoke loudly out to the crowd before looking to a confused Bronn. "You will escort Captain Euron's men to the yard to wait for his return. They are not to be harmed unless they resist."
"As you wish my lord." Bronn muttered, letting Tywin take the case. "You heard the King Regent! You're all dismissed! Men, let's get our 'visitors' out as well."
Under the sellsword's directions, the throne room was quickly cleared out. Once the heavy doors closed shut, Euron give a small sigh before pacing over to one large chest, shutting the lid closed. "Mind if I sit? Feel like I've been standing for ages right now." No one spoke against his request, so the pirate sat down. "So then Lord Tywin, I take my final offering is suitable to you."
"Before we say anything more, I'd like to know WHAT is in that case to begin with." Tyrion argued.
"I have to agree with the Hand." Varys calmly stated. "Since you have let us of the Small Council remain, we'd like to be informed on what this man has…presented to influence you so deeply."
Tywin didn't answer as he looked at everyone before at last speaking. "All of you know that House Lannister once had a Valyrian Sword, one of the last swords a King of Westeros commissioned from Valyria before the Doom and Aegon's Conquest."
"You mean Brightroar?" Jaime remarked, Tyrion also giving an interested look. Both of them knew well of the tales of their family blade, a priceless lost heirloom. "I know that Tommen the Second took it with him a century after the Doom of Valyria, only for him and the expedition to disappear. Uncle Gerion was the last to seek for it, only to disappear as well."
Tyrion nodded at the mention of their long lost relative. "I always liked Gerion, the most free spirited of us all. At the least he made birthdays worthwhile."
Cersei rolled her eyes at such talk. "Kind as he was, he always was a fantastical idealist. Too lost in talk of glory and adventure. That kind of thinking is what surely got him killed."
For a moment Tyrion was ready to argue though just the glare of Tywin silenced him. "The fact is Brightroar has been lost for centuries…until now."
Opening the case revealed its contents, a bastard sword with a silver blade rippled with rainbow color as the light of the hall touched across it. The cross guard was long, engraved with ornate weaving detail while sturdy spikes were at the ends. The grip was fitted with deep red leather, no doubt having been refitted after being lost for so long. Lastly was the pommel which bore the head of a roaring lion, the detail unfaded thanks to the mythical metal it was made out of.
Everyone except Euron gawked at the sight of the Valyrian blade, Jaime the most amazed by the sight. Joffrey had a wide grin seeing the sword, having too heard of the tales of the family sword. "Amazing…its more beautiful than what the books described." He muttered before looking to the pirate. "How did you find this? If my ancestor did die in the cursed shores of Valyria, then that means you had to enter such deadly land."
"I did in fact brave that ruined place." Euron simply stated. "It's a long tale of darkness and madness, one suited for another time. The fact is me and my crew found many things there, that blade included. It was at the ship graveyard, the first hurtle scouring Valyria. It seems both your ancestor and uncle fell prey to it, trapping them there. There were old remains of a camp and in turn…remains and belongings."
"Untouched? So whatever killed them didn't take their belongings." Tyrion questioned.
Euron chuckled. "Hand, the things that live in that ruined peninsula don't care for materials or trinkets. Fresh meat and warm blood are what they crave. That aside there is poisoned air, tainted water and plants warped over the centuries that are adept at killing a curious adventurer." He shrugged. "I doubt a handful of bones mean much to you, so I feel the sword is proof enough of your uncle's fate."
"If so, he must have found it before his end." Jaime remarked, hesitantly reaching for the sword before looking up at Tywin.
"Take it. If there is anyone more suited to wield it, it is you Jaime." Tywin assured, a rare hint of pride in his words.
Joffrey nodded in agreement, an eager grin on his face. "Indeed. A proper weapon for a Kings Guard and royal general."
The Lannister knight at last gripped the blade, lifting it out of the case to hold upward. He shifted his wrist about to test the weight of the weapon, surprised by how light the bastard sword was. Moving back for some space, he gave some test swings with one hand then before, getting a full idea on its balance. "It's perfect. Almost feels like it was meant for me." He muttered as he stared at the blade.
"A worthy blade to use against that cursed Witcher I say." Joffrey chuckled, though Jaime's expression showed no eagerness at such a clash. He knew it would take more than a Valyrian sword to beat Geralt's fighting skill and magical abilities.
"Historic of a moment as this may be, we should continue with our business." Euron spoke up, gaining everyone's attention.
At this point Lord Baelish would speak. "It's obvious your intentions aren't for wealth, considering the treasure you've given the crown and the return of this sword…which if I'm correct could fund a small army."
"A logical if obvious observation." The Greyjoy jested. "Fact is, wealth to me is just a tool and luxury. Unlike others I don't hoard it for the sake of keeping it, but to use it for times like this."
"So then your interest is in power then?" Cersei asks coyly.
The pirate bowed his head slightly, one hand gesturing in a bow like manner. "As the fair lady says. After all, money does not earn you a place in history's pages."
"So then what are your terms then if you plan to ally with us?" Joffrey directly quested as the boy moved up to return to his seat on the Iron Throne. "I can say the position as Master of Ships is open, a suitable position for you on the Small Council."
"A good start I'd say. However we are talking about putting the whole of the Iron Isles into your allegiance." Euron replied back before a sly grin crossed his face. "No…what I'm interested in is much bigger…grander." The way he spoke and the cunning glare in his eye made everyone tense for a moment. That look was something all Lannisters understood…a gaze of a man with raw ambition and the wit to achieve it by any means.
"Very well Euron Greyjoy. Let us discuss the terms of this…alliance." Tywin stated as he'd returned to his seat.
As everyone else returned to their seats, Jaime and Tyrion did quietly speak to each other. "This shouldn't be happening." The elder brother muttered.
"Try to dissuading father. As soon as he saw that sword, Euron had instantly won his respect." Tyrion sighed as he'd get into his seat.
Jaime stood by, keeping his gaze set on Euron who looked at Cersei. She in turn had a sly look in her eyes, having an impressed interest in the man as well. Normally he'd feel a low jealous with such shared looks, but right then he felt indifference ever since the night after Lord Stark's trial.
"Lancel admitted he's allured to me, despite our…relations. I've refused his advances, though he only continues to try and prove himself to me. That is why I've tried sending him away." Cersei whispered before caressing his face. "You and our children matter to me…as they and I should be to you." Her fingers traced down to his jaw, gently hilting it to make his eyes meet her's. "Promise me…protect us all no matter the odds."
That last words sounded more like a demand than a kind request. It made sense what Geralt had said in this very same room. As the rest of his family spoke with Euron, he knew right then that his family was continuing down a dangerous path…one that he couldn't prevent.
…
An Hour Later, Yard Outside the Red Keep
The first mate paced about tensely, on edge between the passiveness of the rest of the crew and the looks of the guards. Part of him wondered how they were still alive, having literally walked into the lions den like this. "The former mate was right…" He muttered to himself before snapping his gaze up to the doors leading into the lavish keep. Strolling out was Euron, the one-eyed captain having a small grin on his face. "Umm…glad to see you're alright captain. Did the…uhh…meeting go well?"
Euron gave a small smirk as he approached, giving a short gesture to the rest of his men. "The Lannisters and I have come to an agreement. Between the generous donation to their coffers and the return of Brightroar, not even the stern Tywin can ignore my reliability." The group was soon being escorted to the gates leading into the city.
Lightly rubbing his burn scarred face, the first mate tugged his robe hood back over his head. "So then what is the plan from here?"
"To Pyke in the Iron Isles. My brother Balon will no doubt be having all the captains gathered for his short-sighted plans." Approaching the gates, the guards opened them up as the disguised pirates began to make their long trek back to the docks and to their 'borrowed' ship to return to the Silence far out into the bay.
"We just entered one monster's den to sail off into another…" The First Mate muttered nervously, drawing a laugh from Euron.
"Very true, yet with risk comes great reward." He replied with a grin. "We strode into the lions den…and soon they lay at our feet. They think they have us in control…loyal to them…" As they had reached down the hill, he grinned as he looked up at the Red Keep. "They will be helpless when our boot presses down onto their very necks…and breaks them." However, he chuckled as a thought came to him. "Then again they may just tear themselves apart in their drive for power and survival. Ah…such is the ways of family."
The captains tone made the First Mate gulp, never expecting such bold words even from the captain. Yet the more he served directly with him…he understood that Euron had no fear after all he had done. For such confident ego and ruthless cunning would make anyone believe that they feel godlike. Which with every passing act made the Crow's Eye seemed all the more…divine…or in this case unholy with his dark nature.
One that wouldn't stop until it consumed everything this world had to offer…
…
Notice: So I do know that Brightroar is meant to be a greatsword, but I changed it to a bastard sword to be more fitting of a weapon for Jaime. Considering how buried the lore of this Valyrian sword is, a little creative freedom doesn't hurt.
Anyway next chapter we return to Essos as Ciri and Dany play their own game of politics with the Thirteen and the Warlocks. Expect a few colorful characters to be fleshed out, among other things.