6th Moon, 8051
City of Mantarys
Vaekar Targaryen made his way through the fog covered streets of the grim city of Mantarys, his host leading him through the well paved black cobbled stone that weaved through the city like a black river, Aeranyx Zobridar pausing from time to time to point out something.
It was oft said that Mantarys was a city of monsters, necromancers, and all manner of horrible deformed creatures, half men and half beast. Vaekar had assumed all of this to be simply rumor, Mantarys was little known in Westeros and the accounts they did have were clearly exaggerations and fables.
Vaekar soon found that, upon his arrival however, like most rumors there is a grain of truth. While he was not met with the sight of winged half men, or pale bloodsucking fiends, it was clear that the city was afflicted by something. The Doom of Valyria, the mysterious and cataclysmic event that had destroyed the Targaryens homeland hundreds of years before had spared the nearby city of Mantarys to the north of Valyria, but it was clear there was a dark connection with the doom that left much of the cities populace deformed in the years since.
Likely connected to this damnable fog Vaekar thought to himself. The fog was so thick in many parts of the city he could barely see a few feet in front of him, though the well cobbled black stone streets and his host provided ample enough guidance. Mantarys was not a warm city, though neither was it cold, there was a stillness in the weather that unnerved Vaekar, but nothing was as uncomfortable than the very air itself, which was thick, with a cold humidity that seemed to enter the very lungs, Vaekar had managed it reasonably well, something his host attributed to his Valyrian blood, but his sworn shield, Ser Ryon Wells of the Kingsguard was clearly affected by it, with the dornishman seemingly growing weaker by the day, looking like a wraith in white as he shuffled through the black streets, eyes sunken and downcast.
The Prince had never before seen so many hunchbacks, grotesques, or malformed individuals in the same place in his life. Even his host, the honorable Lord Zobridar was not immune to the city's curse, with his lips being drawn upwards, exposing a pair of jutting teeth, though he made great pains to look presentable, wearing the finest white and purple silk money could buy.
It had been a long journey to reach the city, he had sailed from Kings Landing first to Tyrosh, and then to Volantis, from there he had rode by horse east through the southern grasslands of the Dothraki who bordered the Free City of Volantis and the independent city of Selhorys.
He did not have to ride far to find hospitality. Just a few days east from Selhorys he and his small escort were greeted by the scouts of Khal Horro, leader of one of the largest dothraki hordes in Essos that was said to have 20,000 riders. Intrigued by his silver hair, valyrian steel sword, and white armored escort, the Dothraki rather surprisingly invited him to a wedding in the Dothraki city of Rhaesh Dahhan, along with many Volantene nobleman, who were bringing a large tribute to appease Khal Horro.
While he was not permitted to bring Blackfyre to the proceedings, and was seated far away from the main benches, seated alongside the Volantene dignitaries, it was an interesting affair, with there being no less than seven fatal duels between Dothraki bloodriders, and Vaekar was well educated in the skill in which the Dothraki wielded their arakhs. He also learned that Rhaesh Dahaan was not a permanent city, with the Dothraki preferring to live in the plains, leaving behind their slaves and a few guards in the city to make felt and other products.
With those few days of rest done, the truly hard part of the journey began. Continuing east through the southern grasslands, he and his escort then turned south, marching through the painted valleys of Mantarys, huge Valyrian glyphs etched into the massive canyons and valleys, before finally turning west through the demon pass and reaching Mantarys where he was greeted by the Lord of Mantarys and its hinterlands, Aernyx Zobridar.
Lord Zobridar had proved to be a gracious host, showering gifts and artifacts upon Vaekar, horns with valyrian glyphs, jeweled daggers, and rare animal pelts, not once asking for a single thing in return, and was even preparing a feast in the prince's name, welcoming the ''son of Valyria'' to Manatrys.
Even with the fog, the architecture of Mantarys was impressive to behold. There were clear similarities to the buildings of old valyria, with many buildings having long and tall spires that seemed to cut through the fog itself, despite the grim nature of the town, it was quite large and busy, with there being many open air markets selling queer goods from as far east as Yi Ti and Asshai.
Despite the large size of the town and the busy streets, there was an eerie stillness and quietness to the city, as if the townspeople were talking in hushed tones so as not to awake whatever calamity had destroyed Valyria all those years ago.
Lord Zobridar pointed out a final building of interest before they at last turned back towards the palace, where the feast awaited them.
The palace of Mantarys, chief residence of Lord Zobridar was most impressive of all the buildings in the city, a massive building of black stone and spires that his host claimed was fused together by the dragons of the dragonlords of Valyria, the same as the immaculate black cobbled streets that wound through the city.
''The servants will have the feast ready….I do hope you have brought an appetite my prince.'' The Lord of Mantarys said lightly, as always referring to his slaves as servants, Mantarys, like almost all Essosi cities engaged heavily in the slave trade, though Vaekar gathered that Lord Zobridar was a kind master, if there ever was such a thing.
True to his host's word, the feast was indeed ready as they entered the palace to the smell of salt and brine. The smell made Vaekars stomach turn, the Prince had done well adjusting to the climate of the city, but its cuisine was something he could scarcely abide.
The Mantaryans were fond of pickling almost everything, from fish to beef, while other food was served in a sour jelly. Salt was heavily involved in all dishes, and even the wine was taken with a copious pinch of salt, making it bitter to the taste.
Seated beside his host, he watched as pickled pigs feet were brought out, along with jellied cod, it was more than clear he would gain no great enjoyment from the feast, so instead he would need to settle on the next best thing, information…he had several questions he had been waiting for the perfect moment to ask, and the moment had come to do so.
Turning to his host, his knife fiddling with the jelly cod, he began the conversation.
''My Lord…..little news of your realm reaches Westeros, and the little of it that does is shrouded in inaccuracy and nonsense, your city has proved to a magnificent one, and your hospitality has helped to shed light on the rather dark rumors I have heard.'' Vaekar began.
''You are kind to say so….Mantarys has prospered under my leadership….I am glad your Grace recognizes that.'' Lord Zobridar said, pinching some salt into his wine, made from the sour small grapes which grew in Mantarys.
''There is however one thing I have heard of your realm that I have yet to gain the truth of….'' Vaekar began, searching the man's face for a response.
His host smiled, a ghastly action which only accentuated his deformed lips.
''I was wondering when you were going to ask about the Dragon.'' He said, leaning back in his chair.
''So the rumors are true….Meraxes is in Mantarys?'' Vaekar asked, doing his best to hide his excitement, and wondering how he had not seen the dragon, he had travailed the painted valleys of the Mantaryan hinterlands and the Demon Pass for weeks before finally reaching the city, and it seemed that if the dragon were anywhere but in some sort of structure similar to the Dragonpit, he would have at least caught a glimpse of it.
''I am afraid you have come too late my friend…..if you had arrived but a year earlier….'' Lord Zobridar said apologetically.
''Tell me of it….of everything.'' Vaekar persisted.
His host took another sip of bitter wine ''Very well…but I fear any tale is likely to end in your disappointment.''
''I would hear it nonetheless.'' Vaekar replied.
''As you wish…this Meraxes as you call it has been known as the silver death ever since it has come to Essos….truly a massive beast…..I can attest to its length as I have seen it from a short distance away…..it surely surpasses 100 feet.'' His host said, cutting himself some pickled pigs feet before continuing.
''From what I understand it fled Westeros after your grandsires sister perished…..first it fled to Volantis, where it was claimed by a particularly brave volantene woman, Triarch Donaro is a paranoid man, and had to take some sort of action against having such a large beast that could level his entire city to ash…..he could bind the woman to her….or attempt to slay it.'' His host started.
''He chose the safer option…not surprising since the man is of the elephant party, preferring to solve problems with trade and peaceful options, he took the woman into his court, lavished her with gifts, and made her the foremost general in Volantis.'' Zobridar continued.
Vaekar waited patiently When I am King I will need a network of informers in Essos he thought to himself, his father had never much concerned himself with Essosi affairs, but it was unseemly that the news that Meraxes was in Volantis had not reached them.
''Triarch Donaro soon had good reason to have need of his foremost general…for in the Great Plaza of the Holy Temple of R'hllor rebellion was brewing…..the fiery hand, the temples private slave army was growing in size, and the red priests were preaching sermons that were emboldening the slaves of Volantis….and Triarch Donaro was never one to leave things to chance.''
''He ordered Meraxes and its rider to burn down the temple whilst the red priestess Parrah herself was preaching to a great crowd, and the silver death emerged from the sky burning and bathing the temple and crowd in flame….well over two thousand poor souls perished that day and much of the temple was destroyed, though it has since been rebuilt….ironic…the followers of the holy flame perished to the very thing they worshiped.'' His host finished.
''What of Meraxes's rider?'' Vaekar questioned, not paying much mind to the irony, the followers of R'hollor were heathenous demon worshipers and had paid the price for their blasphemy.
''She was later poisoned at a feast….some say the temple of R'hllor hired a faceless man to avenge their temple…while others say Triarch Donaro grew so wary of her after seeing the results of her dragon that he ordered it himself…nevertheless, the fact remains the same…and she perished.''
Taking a sip of wine, his host continued his tale.
''The dragon then flew to my own realm….making a lair in a large cave in the demon pass….you may have even passed by it on your own travels…there it remained for several years, causing terror to all who dared traverse the pass…before an old Mantaryan by the name of Jaqario Kirineon finally tamed it, every day for a year bringing a sheep to the dragons lair before at last the beast let him grow so close he was able to whisper the ancient Valyrian rites and claim it as his mount.'' Lord Zobridar finished.
''Does Jaqario still live?'' Vaekar questioned.
His host shook his head ''Sadly not…he perished of natural causes last year….a shame, he was a good man, and when word reached the neighboring realms that mine own realm had a dragonrider….profits were great, The cities of slaver's bay Yunkai, Mereen, Astapor, New Ghis, and Hazdhan sent tribute, as did Tolos and Elyria, even proud Volantis sent gifts of servants, silver, and spice….like as not if you had arrived the previous year he would have surrendered the dragon to you as your families birthright, or given you permission to claim it after your death…alas good prince, you have come too late.''
''Where is Meraxes now?'' Vaekar asked, not willing to give up.
Zobridar sighed ''The beast flew south to Valyria, and the lands of always summer….beyond the reach of men im afraid…it would be a fool's errand to pursue the beast.''
''You mentioned to me that the effects of the Doom are weakening…that the cities of Slaver's Bay have established colonies.'' Vaekar pointed out.
Lord Zobridar ran a hand through his stubble ''It is true….Mereen has established a profitable plantation in the Otor Lands, while Yunkai has colonized Zoklos and the Melior March….in the lands of the long summer the effects of the doom are weakening…the tides are receding, and the ground is regrowing its famed fertility…but the air….the Yunkish and Meereenese send nearly a thousand slaves every month…..eight out of ten of them will die within a year….these colonies are immensley profitable…both to the hands of the masters who send their slaves to die in their hundreds and to Balerion, the god of death.''
Vaekar thought of speaking his mind to his host as to his thoughts about that heathen god but he held his tongue, he needed answers ''I am sure the Stranger has his due my lord…but you have not answered my questions….if there are plantations why do you think it is a fool's errand to pursue Meraxes….it is true the slaves die to the air, but as you said, I am the blood of Old Valyria.''
''Because Meraxes was last sighted on the west coast of the lands of the long summer, in the howling bogs…the terrain is much rougher than that of the east…and this report is months old…it is true that a man can, with great difficulty traverse the lands of always summer, but if that beast has fled to the islands of old Valyria…..it is beyond the reach of men, the doom is still strong there.'' His host finished.
''Lord Zobridar…..I shall require a map to these howling bogs…and perhaps some guides if you can spare them.'' Vaekar said after a moment's pause, his mind was made up, he had come too far to turn back empty handed.
Ser Ryon Wells, who had recovered a bit of his color from being indoors placed a gauntlet on his arm ''My Prince….I beg you to consider…the dangers of this…''
''No man has claimed something so great as a dragon without a little bit of danger Ser.'' Vaekar said stubbornly, pulling his arm away to face his host.
Lord Zobridar was studying him carefully ''You truly are the blood of the dragon…..I would advise against it once more…but if you are set on this path…it shall be as you say, I shall provide you with a dozen pure blooded Mantaryan guides and as much food and water as you can take…they will withstand the air with some difficult, but your escort…..''
''I will be fine my prince….I was assigned to guard you, and I intend to keep that oath.'' Ser Ryon Wells responded when Vaekar translated his hosts' concerns to him.
Vaekar turned back to Lord Zobridar ''Why are you helping me my Lord…your hospitality has been unmatched.''
Lord Zobridars normally smiling face grew suddenly serious ''There are ancient oaths my Prince…between Mantarys and old Valyria….pacts bound in blood..I will say no more…but House Zobridar keeps its oaths….and….should you prevail in your task, my hospitality would be open for as long as you should wish it.''
He wants another Dragonrider in Mantarys Vaekar realized quickly ''You wish for me to serve you my Lord…should I claim Meraxes.''
''You would have a palace of your own….as grand as this one…with a thousand servants to see to your every need…the finest Mantaryan wines….spices…and in time, should your eyes turn south…towards the lands of the long summer…well, it is as I said my lord, House Zobridar keeps its oaths.'
Vaekar had no wish to reside in such a gloomy place and certainly no inclination for Mantaryan wines, but he found it would be unwise to throw his host's offer back in his face when the man had given, and promised him so much.
''You have given me much to think on my Lord…but first…I needs must find Meraxes.'' He said, choosing his words carefully.
His host nodded slowly ''I wish you luck my Prince….you shall need it.''
Three days later, the Prince, Ser Ryon Wells, and a dozen Mantaryan guides set out from the dark city, heading south, where no Targaryen had gone for generations.