Loredas, the 15th of Sun's Dusk

Red Keep, King's Landing

Nakos sat at the desk of his personal chambers, reading through several letters that had arrived from all over Westeros. Most of them were simply letters of congratulations for Nesaerys' Nameday, and others were requests for supplies, coming from all over Westeros. Dany, meanwhile, was reclining in bed. "Where is Rhaelor?"

"Where do you think?" Nakos replied with a smile. "He rarely leaves the library." Nakos went over the latest reports from the Wall. Other than the usual foray beyond the Wall, nothing unusual was seen beyond the broken bodies of the Daedra that was harvested and odd Daedric weapon or two that were mostly found around White Tree and Craster's old keep.

"Do you ever worry about him?" she asked. "That he's not spending enough time training with weapons?"

"As long as he can protect himself, I'm not worried. And if he wants to spend his time in books, I won't argue." Nakos chuckled a bit to himself. "Rhaelor reminds me of my younger brother. Cyrus almost never left my town's library, and he became a diplomat."

"Sounds boring," Dany joked. "At least Nesaerys will be the fighting one in our family."

Nakos chuckled. "They'll both be able to fight in their own way. Don't be too quick to discount the power of a smart mind. Remember, Sansa doesn't know much of the way of weapons, but she is formidable in her own right, as a practitioner of magic. Then there are other uses of a sharp mind, like my brother, or Tyrion, or Samwell Tarly." Nakos sighed at the mention of Sam as he went through some more letters. "His father disowned him and sent him to the Wall because Sam didn't want to be a fighter, and chose to read books and use his brain. I don't think that was kind or wise. A mind can be just as sharp and powerful as a sword. Both are formidable weapons. It all depends on how you use it."

Dany got off the bed and wrapped her arms around Nakos' neck from behind. "And I am thankful you know how to use both."

Nakos turned from his work and kissed Dany on the cheek. "Took years of practice and patience. Besides, it was also necessary. There was much to learn, and little time to learn it. In times of relative peace like this, the necessity is not so great, so the children learn what they are best suited for better, rather than trying to cram it all in at once as fast as they can in case it becomes needed." Nakos then scratched his goateed chin in thought for a moment. "Come to think of it. I learned magic on the fly without much guidance. I never attended to the College of Winterhold to learn magic. I think Sansa may have even exceeded me in arcane knowledge."

Dany sat on Nakos' lap and rested her head on her husband's. "Well then, should we send Rhaelor to one of the magic schools? Perhaps the Wolfswood College? Or perhaps wait until he makes his pilgrimage to High Hrothgar and have him attend the College of Winterhold?"

"I don't know. He's still so young. We should wait and see what he decides to do first. Then we can plan properly."

A knock sounded at the door before they could talk about the situation any further. "Come in," Nakos said and Jon Stark came in, escorting Robb Stark.

"My brother, Your Grace," Jon announced.

Robb bowed to the king and queen. "Your Graces."

"Lord Stark," Dany greeted the Warden of the North with a gentle embrace. "Would you like some wine?"

"Of course," Robb said, taking a seat.

Dany poured three goblets of wine and passed one to Robb. "I assume you came here to talk about Nesaerys visiting Winterfell."

"Indeed I have." Robb took the goblet and took a sip. "Has Nesaerys talked to you?"

"She has," Nakos answered. "And I think it's a good idea."

Robb seemed pleased to hear it, but still had to ask. "You do?"

Nakos nodded. "I have known your family for a long time. Your sister, Sansa, was one of the first members of the Starks I met when I arrived… and one of the first people I helped. Besides, it would do Nesaerys some good to get out of the city and see the wider world. She'll need to experience some of it before making her pilgrimage to High Hrothgar in Skyrim."

"It is a month's journey to Winterfell," Robb noted.

"When do you plan to leave, Lord Robb?" inquired Dany.

"As soon as possible," answered Robb. "Today, if we could. But how long do you expect her to stay in Winterfell?"

Nakos took a sip of wine before he answered. "I had been entertaining the idea of her being fostered there for a few months. Perhaps years. That's what Jon Arryn did with your father and Robert Baratheon, if I am not mistaken."

"You're not," said Robb. "Are you sure you can stand being away from her for so long?"

"I would visit every month, but I wouldn't be sending her alone to Winterfell," Nakos replied. "And it's not that I don't trust you. But I would feel more comfortable sending her with better protection."

"Of course," Robb chuckled. "I would expect nothing less, Your Grace."

"How fares the rest of your family, Lord Stark?" Dany asked.

"Well. My mother remains in Winterfell. Sansa spends most of her time in the Wolfswood College. Bran has joined the Thieves Guild, why I do not know."

Nakos suppressed a smile, already knowing that. As Bran had met Nocturnal, the Daedric Prince had given him back the use of his legs, and Nocturnal had influence with the Guild, Bran felt it made sense to lend his talents to the Daedric Prince. Bran did not become a thief, though. He was more of a scout or lookout... or spy, akin to one of Varys' little birds.

Robb continued. "Rickon has begun his training with the Dawnguard stationed at Winterfell. Arya..." his voice trailed off. "She always seems to appear and disappear on me. The last time I saw her was at the Nameday festival."

Nakos suppressed another smile. "She tends to do that to me as well," he lied.

"When… or if you see her, can you tell her her brother misses her?"

"I'm sure she knows," Nakos replied. "But I do not wish to keep you any longer as I know you would like to leave soon. I will tell Nesaerys to prepare to leave with you, although I have a feeling she already has. I will also send Farkas and Vilkas with her for protection."

Robb stood. "I will guard her as if she is my own."

"I would hope so," Dany said, her mouth a hard line. "If anything were to happen to her, fire will rain down on Winterfell."

Robb bit his lips nervously, not sure if that was a genuine threat or not. "I will make sure she stays safe. Now I must take my leave of you. Your Graces." With a bow, Robb opened the door and on the other side was Tyrion, about to knock.

"Ah, Lord Stark," Tyrion bowed. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all. I was just leaving for Winterfell and wanted to talk with His Grace for a moment. Unfortunately, I cannot speak for much longer, it is a long ride to Winterfell."

"I remember very well," Tyrion said with a small smile. "Well, I won't keep you any longer." After Robb left, Tyrion entered. "Your Graces. We have visitors. From Braavos."

"My lords," Nakos greeted the representatives from Braavos in the Tower of the Hand. "Welcome to King's Landing."

"King Nakos," one of the men bowed. "I am Larazo Orloris, First Sword of Braavos." The man had messy auburn hair and dark green eyes that eyed Nakos with concern. "These are my fellow Braavosi who served the Sealord, Adarys Ostah and Jaerys Sorryl."

"Welcome, friends," Tyrion greeted. "Please sit."

"I assume you know why we are here," Adarys said as he took a seat along with his fellow Braavosi.

"I had heard about the death of the Sealord," Nakos answered. "I am sorry for your loss."

"And can I assume you heard about the manner of his death," Larazo stated rather than asked.

"That I have not heard," Nakos lied.

The First Sword cleared his throat. "The Sealord was killed by one of the assassins from Tamriel. He left behind a parchment with a black handprint."

"Did you perhaps bring this parchment with you?"

Larazo nodded and going into his belt, took out the parchment and handed it to Nakos. Nakos looked it over. "We know?" he asked aloud. "Know what?"

Larazo looked confused. "I don't understand."

"From what little I know about the Dark Brotherhood," Nakos explained, "They usually kill their targets because of something they had done. Perhaps they crossed someone, or interfered in the Brotherhood's affairs. The Dark Brotherhood usually prefer to remain out of the affairs of everyone else, so they would have had a good reason for killing him, assuming they did."

"Are you suggesting that the Sealord was guilty of something?" Jaerys asked with a slight sneer of his lips.

"Not at all," Nakos said. "Good reasons for the Dark Brotherhood are somewhat… open to interpretation. That being said, my point was that this is not something the Dark Brotherhood would do on its own without good cause. Unless you think they were hired to perform an assassination mission under contract, I have little reason to suspect them of doing this."

"You seem protective of these assassins, King Nakos," Larazo sneered.

"They are of Tamriel," Nakos replied firmly. "Despite their actions and reputation, they are still my people. I want to make sure we consider all other options before I suspect them of killing someone across the Narrow Sea." Nakos then raised not one, but two parchments in his hands. "Besides, your evidence is forged."

"And how do you know that?" the First Sword asked.

Nakos smiled slightly. "Many reasons. But the first thing you should know about the Dark Brotherhood when they mock their victims to instil fear is that they always write their letters to victims and associates, is that they are always inked in blood. The one you recovered and brought here is inked in ordinary black ink and on clean parchment."

"Clean parchment?"

"Yes. The forgery is too clean. Whoever did this overplayed their part, and created a forgery that is too perfect to be real."

"Forgive me for asking, Your Grace," Tyrion spoke up finally, "but how would you know this."

Nakos held up the real letter. "This was from when the Dark Brotherhood tried to kill me before. I took this off of the body of one of their number when they ambushed me in the wilds of Skyrim many years ago. I keep it as a… personal reminder." The room was silent at this 'revelation.' But of course, that was a lie. It was just one of many letters Nakos had written himself before killing many a target in Skyrim.

"I am sorry, Your Grace," Tyrion said soothingly. "I... didn't know."

Nakos waved his hand dismissively. "It was a long time ago, during my first year in Skyrim. I have long forgotten about it by now." He turned back to face his guests. "If you would allow me, I can send people to help you investigate the truth behind the Sealord's murder."

"Forgive me, Nakos," Larazo sneered as he and his friends stood. "But I don't exactly trust you just yet. We will find the murderer ourselves and bring them to justice. If you will excuse us." With a shallow bow, he and the other left the room.

"Well," Tyrion said. "You tried. Trust takes time and effort to build, yet it only takes one suspicious act to bring it all down. And we didn't even have anything to do with it."

"Indeed," Nakos sighed, feigning disappointment. But it didn't matter. He already had people there.

Loredas, the 15th of Sun's Dusk

Braavos

The moonlight shone brightly in the sky and the security at the Sealord's Palace was high, which made sense. But the darkness was perfect and Arya felt more at home in the shadows than she did in Winterfell or even in King's Landing. She offered a quick, silent prayer to Sithis as she and her team snuck towards the back entrance of the palace and were not surprised to see several guards standing by the door.

"Great," Morgen groaned, "How in Oblivion are we supposed to get in now?"

"We're not going to kill them?" Camaron asked, sounding disappointed.

"And draw further unwanted attention?" Arya scoffed. "How about no." After a moment of thought, she spoke again. "It may be best if we split up in two groups. One group goes through the windows while the second goes through the door. We can cover more ground than if we're together, and it will be easier to sneak around if we're not all one group."

"And how exactly are we to deal with the guards?" Morgen asked.

"We knock them out. We don't kill them," Arya answered with a smirk. "Jax. You, Morgen, and I will take care of the guards and enter the door. The rest of you, take your grappling hooks, climb the walls, and enter by one of the windows. We'll regroup in five minutes in the top floor hallway."

"No killing?" Jax huffed. "That's no fun."

"It's too big a risk, Jax," Kirsten replied. "Their leader was just assassinated, and the Dark Brotherhood is to blame. What would they think if their guards were to die almost two weeks after?"

"Fine," the Imperial sighed in disappointment. "I'll try not to kill anyone."

"You won't kill anyone," Arya reprimanded, her face as hard as stone. "I'll leave you here myself if you do."

Jax raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't."

Arya chuckled once. "Want to risk it?"

Jax stared at her for a moment before smiling. "I like you already."

"Don't get too attached," she quipped with a smirk. "Now let's move before the sun comes up."

Arya and her group waited for Jax, Kirsten, and Cassius to make their way towards the side of the building and they disappeared into the shadows. She waited a few moments longer before she, Morgen, and Camaron snuck towards the rear entrance. They could not get as close as they liked due to the nearby sconces shining light near and on the guards. If they tried to get any closer, they would be spotted.

"Any ideas, princess?" Jax quipped silently.

Arya glared at him and took out a set of blowdarts. "Here you go, genius. Just make sure you aim right at the neck."

"You think this is the first time I've used a blowdart?" asked Jax.

"You're with the Dark Brotherhood," Arya retorted. "You have no need of a blowdart. You'd use your dagger."

Jax smirked. "True."

Arya handed a set of blowdarts to Morgen. "Make them count, Morgen."

"Oh, I plan to," Morgen said with a smile. She took the blowpipe in her mouth and on Arya's signal, they blew a dart into the guards' necks. Their aim was true and the guards slumped to the floor, asleep and unconscious. After dragging them into the shadows and extinguishing the flames, they snuck to the door.

"How long will it take to pick the lock?" Arya asked them.

Jax smirked. "Watch me work, princess."

"Stop calling me that."

Jax crouched in front of the door and began picking the lock. "But you are a princess."

"Wrong. I'm a lady. Not a Princess."

"Same thing. You're the sister of a noble lord. You just don't live in a castle like Nakos."

"So if I were to call you an idiot instead of a jerk, would that mean the same thing?" Arya smirked at her own words. Jax smirked himself, but had no ready answer.

Morgen chuckled. "There are shadows over there if you two need time to fuck."

Arya did her best not to laugh or chuckle. "Sounds like something an old friend of Nakos would say."

"Besides," Jax looked up at them, "If we did, we would be here a long time."

Arya just rolled her eyes. The click of a lock told them the door was open. They cracked the door open just enough for them to slip in. They were in what appeared to be an empty basement. A flight of steps was visible down the hallway. They slowly snuck up the steps and found themselves in a long hallway.

"Now where are the Sealord's Chambers?" Arya asked.

"I bet it's the only room without any guards," Morgen answered. "They would want to leave the room undisturbed so they can investigate themselves."

"Makes sense," Jax replied. "But there are few rooms without guards. How will we know when we find it?"

"Oh, I'm sure one of the guards will know," Arya said.

"And how exactly are we supposed to question a guard without witnesses?" Morgen asked.

"I'm sure Princess here will find a way," Jax said with a wink aimed at the Stark.

"I so want to kill you right now," Arya grumbled. "We can knock them out, and use this." Arya held up a needle. "It has a memory wiping poison, enough to wipe out the days worth of memories."

"And who is the unlucky target?" asked Jax.

"I think the captain of the guard will know where the chambers is, and much more if we need to ask him."

"The captain of the guard?" Morgen's eyes went wide. " Are you crazy? He'll be the most protected man here!"

"I'm sure you've worked in worse situations, Morgen," Jax replied. "I know I have, and I'm sure Princess has. We'll be fine. Now how do we find the barracks?"

"Follow the guards," replied Arya. "They'll be changing the shift soon." Movement behind them caught her eye. Instinctively, she drew her dagger and twirled around only to see Kirsten and the others. "Just in time. We're about to infiltrate the barracks and interrogate a guard to find out where the Sealord's chambers are."

"And she wants to interrogate the captain of the guard," Morgen grumbled.

"Are you crazy?!" Kirsten whispered harshly.

"That's what I said," Morgen said.

"You have a better option?" asked Arya.

"I'm sure any of the other guards know where the chambers are," answered Kirsten. "And we don't risk revealing ourselves. We may be good, but we're not that good."

"She has a point, Princess," said Jax. "Not to mention we can get a simple guard by himself much easier than the captain."

Arya quickly went through her options in her head. "Fine. We'll find a guard and question him."

It didn't take long to find one: a long guard taking what seemed to be an illicit wine break, hiding in a dark corner and drinking straight from the bottle. He even kept looked around to make sure no one was watching. As Camaron was the strongest of the group, Arya signaled for him to grab the lone guard. With a nod, he walked behind the guard and grabbed him in a choke hold, causing him to drop the bottle.

Arya caught it before it hit the ground and gave a small, evil smile. "Shame on you. This is why you don't take stray from your post. You could get caught drinking wine." She drew a dagger and placed it against the guard's throat. "Now don't scream, or you'll earn a red smile."

The guard looked frantically and fearfully at the assassins and thieves that stepped out of the shadows. "Who… who.. in Seven Hells are you?" he barely wheezed through the choke hold.

"That doesn't matter," Arya replied. "What does matter is where we can find the Sealord's Chambers."

"Now why would I-" the guard began before being cut off by Camaron tightening his hold.

"Wrong answer, friend," Camaron said firmly. "Let's try again. Where are the Sealord's Chambers?"

"Top floor. West side. You can't miss it."

Arya smirked. "See. That wasn't so hard." In the blink of an eye, she jammed the needle in his neck. His eyes rolled back and he went limp. Camaron gently let him down so as not to make a noise.

"Hold on." Jax took the bottle from Arya the bottle and laid it flat near the unconscious guard's hand.

"Ah, smart move," Arya said. She understood what Jax was doing. If a fellow guard were to pass by and find him, the wine bottle and his memory loss would make them think he had drunk too much. Jax said nothing in reply, but only winked. "We should move," Arya said and the group made their way to the top floor, avoiding guards along the way. Once they reached the Sealord's Chambers and after picking the lock, Arya had Camaron and Cassius stand guard while she and the others checked inside the room.

Morgen made a beeline for the desk and picked the locks of the drawers. "What exactly are we looking for?"

"Anything that can help," answered Arya. "Anything that can point to why he died and who killed him."

"Well, that narrows it down," Jax quipped as he search a bookshelf in between the pages.

"Gods, do you ever shut up?" Kirsten sighed in frustration.

"No," Jax shook his head. "Not really."

"Well, you should start before something happens to you," Kirsten said.

"You both know better than that. No fighting or killing among ourselves. Now shut up and look!"

"Oh, please," Jax chuckled. "That was not a real threat. She wouldn't kill me. Beat me up, maybe. But not kill me."

"Be careful what you wish for, Jax." Morgen quipped. "She may hurt you in ways you may not expect. She could be pretty rough."

"Well, lucky for both of us, I like it rough."

"Oh, so your flirting isn't limited to just me," Arya said. Jax just shrugged.

"I think I found something," Morgen said and she pulled a journal from the desk, along with several letters and documents. Her friends joined her around the desk.

"What did you find?" asked Kirsten.

Morgen looked through the letters quickly. "Shipping manifests. Personal letters. City business." She came across another letter. "Hmm… the harbor masters' reports say that several unmarked ships of unknown make recently arrived."

Arya didn't have to ask before Kirsten nodded. "I'll tell Cassius and Camaron to take a look at the harbor."

Arya nodded, then turned back to the documents and the journal. "Check the last weeks worth of entries in the journal, Morgen. Jax, keep looking through the letters."

Morgen flipped through the pages of the book as Jax took to reading the documents. It wasn't until Morgen got to the last entry of the journal that she began to read. "'Spoke to the leader of those unmarked ships today. He was one of those Tamriel Elves. Altmer, I think they were called. High Elves. One of them went by the name Ancano...'"

Arya slammed her hand on the journal and ran around to read it for herself. "Ancano?! Seven hells…"

"'He claimed to want to set up a new trade agreement with Tamriel on behalf of King Nakos." Morgen continued to read. "I don't like this guy… he seems like a viper, a liar. He knows how to play the political game of Westeros all too well, and he seemed far too overconfident. I invited him and his assistant to dinner to get a better judge of his character, but I plan to get confirmation from king Nakos himself. Just need to buy time…'"

"Ancano… the gods damn Thalmor are here in Essos!" Arya ground her teeth, remembering all the things she had heard of the Dominion's ruling body from Nakos and many of the Tamrielians, and Ancano in particular from Sansa. Nothing about the Thalmor were ever good for anyone but themselves. This could mean real trouble, and Arya knew it.

Morndas, the 17th of Sun's Dusk

King's Landing

The High Sparrow watched as Lancel Lannister lay back in a chair, while another Sparrow cut the Faith of the Seven symbol into his forehead. Lancel was only one of several Sparrows who wished to get the symbol cut into their forehead to show that they were a part of the new Faith Militant. But the High Sparrow was not alone. Several Altmer were behind him, witnessing the strange ritual.

"What is that symbol?" Naranbar Elsinious, one of the Thalmor asked.

"The Seven-Pointed Star is the symbol of the Faith of the Seven," the High Sparrow explained. "It shows everyone who we are."

"And how exactly is that supposed to strike fear into your enemies?" Aldaril Koriuth, another Thalmor asked.

"Who said we wished to strike fear into anyone?" the High Sparrow asked. "It is meant to be a show of devotion to our gods, not a fear tactic to strike terror at people."

"I think it will do more that that," Aesril Koriuth said, "especially towards those who are from Tamriel."

Naranbar's reaction was a little different. His eyes showed contempt more than the others. "Pfft. Self mutilation. Humans are strange…" he said quietly.

His comment did not go unheard by the High Sparrow. "As are you. How exactly are you going to help us?"

"Whatever you're about to do," Naranbar answered with a sneer. "We're to help you accomplish it. That's all you need to know. But do know that we will never reveal ourselves until the time is right. If you tell Nakos who we are..." He left the rest unsaid… and implied.

"It's done," the Sparrow said. Lancel sat up and felt the scarred star on his forehead. It was still wet with blood.

The High Sparrow stood in front of Brother Lancel. "Brother Lancel, are you prepared to undertake your first test?"

King's Landing was rife with chaos as men, women, children, and non-humans ran in all directions from the Faith Militant. They went from tavern to tavern, destroying all the wine in the barrels, and vandalizing brothels. They also walked through the streets, turning over tables of the Tamriel merchants who were selling shrines and amulets of the Nine Divines. But their vandalism did not stop there. A small group of them even went into the Temple of the Divines and began to vandalize it as well. They drove out the people who were worshipping there and began to beat on the priestesses of Dibella… as well as the patrons who were there. The City Watch was kept at bay by a surprisingly well armed Faith Militant armed with what appeared to be elvish weapons. None of the City Watch died, but the distraction and fighting was enough for the rest of the Militant to do their job.

Meanwhile, a number of Faith Militant, including Lancel, walked into the Great Sept, where people were worshipping. They spotted Loras Tyrell praying. "Seize him," one of the militants said.

The militants rushed forward and grabbed the Tyrell roughly. "Get your hands off of me."

Lancel walked forward and glared at Loras. "Ser Loras of House Tyrell, you have broken the laws of Gods and men."

Loras scoffed. "Who do you think you are?"

Lancel glared right back. "Justice." At a nod, the militants dragged Loras away.

The door to Nakos' chambers burst open and an angry Margaery Tyrell strode in, followed by Mjoll. She walked up to the desk where Nakos was working and angrily put her hands on the table. "Why is my brother in a cell?!"

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. I tried to stop her," Mjoll apologized, but Nakos held up his hand.

"It's alright," he said before turning back to Margaery. "What are you talking about?"

"My brother was arrested by the Faith Militant and placed in a cell in the Great Sept. You said you had no problem with him."

Nakos furrowed his brow and he stood. "I don't. And I certainly did not order the arrest of your brother."

Margaery visibly relaxed. "Then who did?"

Nakos thought for a moment. "I think I have an idea."

Nakos and his Royal Guard walked towards the Great Sept and made it to the bottom of the steps. He saw some Faith Militant stand guarding the steps. When they saw Nakos approaching, they quickly stood and blocked Nakos and his guards from walking up.

"His Holiness is praying," one of the militant said. "He will not be disturbed."

"Well," Nakos said, folding his arms. "You can tell the High Sparrow that the king demands to see him."

"The High Sparrow does not recognize your authority," the militant replied.

"Hah," Nakos laughed once. "If you do not move now, I will force you aside… with my Voice."

The Faith Militant actually took a step back, earning a few snickers from the Royal Guard, but when Nakos took a step forward, the Militant again took a step forward to block his way.

Nakos heard a few of the Royal Guard draw their swords a bit, but he waved them down. He took a deep breath and Shouted once. "FUS!" All of the Militant stumbled backwards to the ground, even tripping over each other as they fell.

Nakos did not wait for them to get up, but stepped over them and walked up the steps. "Watch them," he ordered the Royal Guard as he entered the Great Sept.

The High Sparrow was there in the main hall, almost as if he was waiting for Nakos. "I should have assumed that the Faith Militant would not have stopped you, Nakos."

Nakos ignored the fact that he did not say 'Your Grace'. "I hear you arrested Ser Loras Tyrell and started civil unrest all over King's Landing."

"I am simply trying to restore order to the city," the High Sparrow said with a shrug. "Order that you caused an imbalance in once you became king."

Nakos folded his arms. "And vandalizing temples and brothels and merchants creates order?"

"The Faith of the Seven looks down on such actions. As for those merchants, they were selling false idols."

"I believe we discussed this before, High Sparrow," Nakos said, as his lips curled back. "You are a member of a faith, not an advocate of law. If I have to remind you of this, then perhaps I was not as clear as I should have been. I will say this, only once more. You do not get to arbitrate law or dictate punishment. It is not up to us to carry out the god's justice. The judgement for the gods is left solely at the hands of the gods when a mortal's time has come, and not before. We can only carry out the justice of mortals, and we who rule and bear responsibility for carrying out that justice must also be judged before the gods when our time comes."

"Well, then," the High Sparrow smiled. "If it is our job to carry out the justice of mortals, then perhaps you will be interested in coming to Ser Loras' inquest, where he will be judged, not by the gods, but by men."

Nakos' face was stern, and brokered no argument. "For what crime, and under what law, has Ser Loras violated? If you say the laws of your faith, then I will tell you now, it will be an illegitimate judgement, and I will be forced to take steps. If he has violated a rightful law of mortals, then, and only then, will I consider attending your inquest. Speak, High Sparrow."

"He has broken laws of mortals. But in order to find out, you must attend the inquest, Your Grace. Loras has not been charged with a crime, yet. But we hold him for questioning. Once we have the inquest, you will be notified and you are welcome to attend."

"I hope so," Nakos replied. "If you do not…" Nakos left the rest unsaid as he left the Great Sept.

Turdas, the 20th of Sun's Dusk

Meereen

Preqhaz na Nozzazn, a thinly built Slave Master, walked through the dark streets of Meereen, avoiding any city guards that he could. Ever since the king and queen of Westeros banished slavery and placed one of their own in charge, the remaining slave masters who hadn't fled had hid, still trying to make profits through smuggling slaves. They even tried stirring up the people and leading revolts. But those revolts barely lasted a day before the leader was cut down by the city guard. No innocent blood was shed, though.

After a few single ill-fated attempts, the slave masters decided that enough was enough and wanted to meet together. Preqhaz had a cowl over his head in order to hide from the city guard, in case they recognized his face. He went into a tavern and the bartender directed him to the basement, where other slave masters were gathered around a wooden table.

"You're late," one of them said with a sneer.

"I'm sorry for not rushing here, Hizdak mo Maze," Preqhaz shot back sarcastically. "I had to avoid a legion of city guards on the way here. Had they seen me, I would have been thrown in a dungeon."

"Well, we're all here now," Zakhar na Lazke sighed. "We should not waste any more time here." At the murmurs of agreement, he continued. "Now we all know why we're here. We have had enough of the leadership that the foreigner has put in place. Meereen and Astapor and Yunkai have flourished on slavery. But now we have lost that. We lost what was once great for us, and we aim to get it back."

"And how do you expect to do that?" Prakheil zo Rarrin asked. "Every attempt we have made has failed. What makes you think we can do it working together?"

"Because we are working together," Zakhar replied. "The city guards and the leader stopped us because we worked separately. They won't be able to stop us if we worked together."

"You do know that these are the same people who killed wights and White Walkers and monsters from another world," Preqhaz said with a scoff. "I don't think a group of simple slave masters could stand up against them." At that, a few masters murmured in agreement.

"We are outnumbered," another master spoke up. "Our resources are far too limited, and we are overpowered by them at every turn. They even have dragons, like the ancient wars of Ghis against the might of Valyria."

The table fell silent for a moment. "So we are expected to stand by and do nothing?" Zakhar asked.

"Of course not," a strange voice came from the shadowed entryway. The masters all jumped to their feet when they say the tall gold-skinned man walk in. The stranger was not alone, either. Several others like him walked into the room from the entryway.

"Give us one reason why we shouldn't kill you now," Zakhar sneered.

"Several reasons," the Altmer said, "but let's begin with the fact that if you try it, I will kill you all the very instant you draw your blades." The stranger raised a single hand, and within was a pulsating ball of electrical energy. The sight of magic caused the masters to step back again. "And this is just me."

One of the masters was about to rush him, but Preqhaz stopped him. "No. I want to hear what he has to say."

"Smart man," the Altmer smirked and took a seat without asking. The other strangers made a half-circle around him. "Now, let's think back to a little more than ten years ago, when all of you had a thriving slave economy." The elf tented his fingertips. "Then a young woman and her lover came along and took the city from you, just as she had done to Astapor and Yunkai. She took the one thing that you relied on to survive in this city. She even killed most of you by crucifying you to signposts. Now, she and her lover, now husband, are living across the Narrow Sea as the king and queen of Westeros. But even now, they have a stranglehold on you. Even now, you are afraid of them. What happened? Did you lose your balls, like the Unsullied?" He and the elves behind him chuckled sinisterly.

"Get to the point!" Zakhar sneered.

The Altmer only glanced at the master before rolling his eyes. "The point is that you have lost your edge, your killer instinct. You have lost what gave the old Ghiscari Empire had: the will and drive to challenge even the might of Valyria five times." The Altmer took on a look of contemplation. "It would seem that you need assistance, if you are serious about taking back your city, and indeed all of Slaver's Bay."

"We are serious," Preqhaz said, putting a hand up to stop Zakhar from saying anything stupid. "But the issue still stands of how we are to stand up against such a formidable fighting force."

The Altmer leaned forward and rested his head on his closed fists. "We have experience in dealing with such things, my friends. We have dealt with an empire of dragons before, and defeated them. We brought a continent-spanning empire to its knees. You would be well advised to hire us, and together we can help you take the necessary steps to ensure victory. Already others of our order have taken steps to press the enemy closer to their home. Now you have an advantage you didn't have before."

"And what advantage would that be?" Zakhar hissed.

At this, the Altmer smiled sinisterly. "The dragon's eyes are focused elsewhere. With the distraction my superiors have arranged, you and your groups can operate more openly and freely. With the armaments we can provide and the magical assistances we offer, Slaver's Bay will be cut off from Nakos' control. All those loyal to him will be trapped within the three Slaver Cities, ready for the slaughter... or enslavement as you see fit. Meanwhile, our ships can transport your people between the three cities quickly and efficiently."

The masters looked at each other, nodding slowly. Others were not so convinced. "What if we refuse?"

The elf shrugged. "Then you won't get our help. Simple as that."

Preqhaz leaned forward. "What should we call you?"

The elf smiled. "We are the Thalmor, and you can call me Estermo." He looked at the masters present. "And what about you humans? What do we call you?"

Preqhaz thought for a moment and the smallest of smiles came across his face. "Sons of the Harpy."