The Dragon and the Hawke 22
Trying to follow a dragon on a hunt is impossible. This is for the simple fact that a dragon can fly. The massive creature takes to the air and just goes up for a good ten seconds before it starts to glide.
Rhaegal was no different from any other flying beast in this regard. That he and his brothers were in fact the only flying beasts actually around didn't take away from the comparison. After he got himself a decent height, the dragon started circling. He didn't try and circle the arena, or pick out the scents associated with the mask just yet. Instead, he was getting a feel for the scent of the city.
It was one that he had grown accustomed to over the last months, so it had faded into simple background stench by this point, and so he had to reacquaint himself with all of the particular nuances of his environment before he started to pick out singular traces.
He circled the city for half an hour before he felt comfortable enough to start his search, and then he started strafing the streets. He was amused by the screams of shock, fear, and wonder that he received as he flapped his powerful wings over the small creatures upon the ground. He noted thousands of different scents, and there were many that carried a similar scent to what was on the mask, but not most, and they were not his prey.
He strafed, glided, and roared for the sheer enjoyment of it, and eventually he found his prey. In a lavish home, one that reminded him of the fat dark skinned man from across the sea that had taken him and his brothers from Mother, he found his prey. He gave a screech of triumph as he slams down on the building's roof, and sends a gout of flame into the sky.
There are screams from inside the building, and he can smell his query defecate himself before trying to flee. Rhaegal took off as the man who wore the mask ran from the house, and started to flee through the streets. Rhaegal gave a series of screeches meant to increase the level of fear in his prey, which succeed.
Had he been a human, he would have laughed at how easy it was to get this stupid man to do exactly as he wanted. And what Rhaegal wanted was actually terribly clever; he was counting on the man to lead him to more like him. The dragon was not a fool, and those scents that reminded him of this one's mask were no doubt part of the same group, much like how all the Unsullied had something of a similar scent in them no matter how independent they became.
If his prey led him to his compatriots, then no doubt he would get an even bigger reward for doing a good job. He could ask for anything! A cow even! He hadn't had whole cow all to himself in his entire life and he was willing to beg Mother and Marian for the chance to enjoy such a feast.
But first he had a job to do, and that required that he seem to vanish from his prey's senses. This was terribly easy, all he had to do was land on the roofs above the man and trot along with his pace rather than fly above. The man did not look to his sides, nor to the roofs, he only looked up, and he looked relieved when he caught no sight of Rhaegal for an entire minute.
Humans were so easy to fool, was all that Rhaegal could think as the man slowed to a stop and laughed in triumph. The green dragon slithered along with the human, tracking him from his new vantage as the now calmed human moved casually through the crowds so as to not attract attention.
Rhaegal chuffs at the act, he can still smell the scent of recent shit coming off the man in waves. He ducks his head immediately after, as his chuff comes out as a loud bark. The man spins, looking around, and then starts to move away. When he peeks again, Rhaegal can see that the man has dismissed the sound.
It took a full hour for the man to get where he was going. It was a rather inconsequential building, for a former slave master. What that meant, was that it stood only three stories tall, and its gardens only had flowers and grass.
His job done, Rhaegal lay across the roof opposite the building, relaxing in the sun as he watched it. He lay there, fantasizing about cows and exotic meats as he waited for Mother's men to show up at Marian had told him they would.
That took less time than he thought it would.
Daario and his city guard moved onto the street below the green dragon less than ten minutes after Rhaegal had gotten settled. They quickly took covert positions along the road as Daario looked up at the dragon that stared down at him. It always unnerved him when he saw the cruel yet indifferent intelligence behind those slitted eyes. They bore into his soul, and always he was judged not good enough for something. There were only two beings that he had ever seen those eyes soften for, and they were Dany and Marian.
In those eyes, there was love for Dany, and respect for Marian, he warranted neither. He might even warrant some contempt now that he thought about it, but that was something to think about later. Right now, the issue to deal with was that Rhaegal was pointing to the building across from him with one talon.
Daario nods, then looks to his men and indicates the building in question. There is an assortment of nods, and ten of his thirty men break off from their hiding spots to move behind the house to cut off escape.
They move silently, years of infiltration missions, assassinations, and an assortment of bad deeds done for people with a lot of gold giving them a great ability to be quiet when necessary. After they disappear from sight, Daario signals and the rest of his men form up around the front of the house. Six climb the walls to get to second floor balconies, and then Daario gives the signal.
As one, they enter.
There is a splintering of wood as doors are kicked in, and the screech of metal on metal as swords are drawn. Inside, dozens of men stand around, having clearly been in the midst of a serious discussion. Eyes turn to the doors and the guards, then they flick to the walls. Following their eyes, Daario can see, stacked on shelves, were golden masks.
There is a great silence as this information is absorbed, indexed, and then Daario waves his hand at the men who lived in the house, "On your bellies, or we'll open them up."
A few of the men drop, but the majority draw long daggers. They give shouts, and then charge. In a second, battle is joined. It is mercenary turned guard against lazy masters turned revolutionaries. The battle does not last long.
Daario only manages to stab one man through the heart and cut another's throat before all those that tried to fight either turned tail to run into his men behind the house, or dropped to the ground with various fatal injuries. The guard captain snorts at the soft nature of slave masters, then starts to issue orders to those who were smart enough to surrender.
Two minutes after they entered, Daario and his men came back out of the house, five men heavier. Leaving a team to search the premises, Daario led his new captives out into the streets. The former slave masters had their hands tied behind their backs as they were led through the great city of Meereen, much to the enjoyment of the crowds.
The trek from the house to the palace was a long one, and by the time they reached it a crowd had formed in anticipation. Dany had decided to meet them in the market before the palace, and Rhaegal dropped from the roofs to plant himself beside her. Marian was also there, looking happy, and giving the guards a pair of enthusiastic thumbs up.
"Captain Naharis, who have you brought before me?" Dany asks, in that regal tone that she preserved only for those that had pleased her, but she needed to remain professional with.
"Insurrectionists, your grace," He tells her, bowing his head, "They call themselves 'The Sons of the Harpy.'"
"Is this all their number?" Dany asks, looking over the prisoners with disdain and anger.
"No, your grace," he tells her, and tugs one of the prisoners forward, "This is Grasso zo Jorros, one of the Harpies, and he begs for your mercy in exchange for information."
"And what information does he possess that you do not?" Dany asks
"More than i care to say, your grace," Daario admits, "But given enough time I could make him talk."
"As could the Thunder God," Dany shrugs, "But both methods would take more time than I like. Very well, Grasso zo Jorros, your life will be spared and you will spend the rest of your days comfortably in one of my cells, rather than in the stomach of my Dragons."
At hearing what his treat will be, Rhaegal perks his head up excitedly and starts looking over the captured masters. The men who had been too stubborn to give up their organization were beginning to regret their decision, and soon enough another called that he was willing to trade information for life in a cell.
This set off a cacophony of shouts as the masters pleaded for their lives, begging to be allowed to make the same deal as Grasso. Dany was unfazed, though, and merely turned her head to Marian, "They will be at your tender mercies."
"Ooh, you mean you're finally letting me blow their minds?" Marian asks
"So long as you get some form of information out of it, yes," Dany nods, then waves a hand for Daario to follow, and drag Grasso zo Jorros along with him.
Once they had vanished, Marian smiled devilishly at her victims and told them, "So, it looks like I get to play with Rhaegal's food! I hope you don't mind my terrible habit, but I really must see what goes on inside those heads!"
She smacks her hands onto either side of the first Harpy's head, and the man gives a surprised cry of pain. This is quickly followed by a scream of agony as Marian digs through his thoughts at an accelerated rate. She tears thoughts from his head, faces from his memory, and plans from his scheming little melon before she burnt him out.
There is a pop as the man's eyes explode, and Marian blinks, and moves her head away. She sighs, not having gotten all she could, but turns to her next victim with a smile. The man cries in terror, the sight of the Thunder God covered in the blood of his late friend bringing the man to tears.
Marian sighs, and this time she gently takes his head between her palms. She never could be cruel to crying people, and even former slave masters were no exception. This sympathy lasted all of six seconds before she found some of his darker memories. She watched as he did horrible and unspeakable things to people who served him for the simple joy of doing it.
His whole head popped by the time she was done with him. She sighed, then with a flick, his corpse joined the other one, and Rhaegal dug into the treat as she turned to her next subject.