Aurion IX
30th day of the third moon, 299 AC
It was not a long voyage for him to unite with the armies he had seen near Myrwater, a lake hardly a day's march southeast of Myr. The march had taken longer than expected, due to many of the pack animals being startled by Aegarax's presence. That was swiftly handled, and now he stood beside his armies numbering nearly fourteen thousand, though admittedly many were poorly trained slaves.
They were camped outside the walls of the city, where Aurion rested his back against Aegarax's golden scales as he awaited the envoy. He had ensured the dragon was clearly in view of any men stationed on the walls, not so subtly advising them how that at any moment he could turn them to ashes if he so desired. It was most fortunate that he did not, as Myr was home to many skilled artisans and craftsmen, and had the third greatest infrastructure in Essos behind only Volantis and Braavos.
In addition to the renowned Golden Company and the garrison of the city, Myr held a scant few sellsword companies employed by the Lyseni who had fled behind the large walls, among them the Second Sons and the Company of the Rose. Combined, their forces would have vastly outnumbered Aurion's, and if they had known of Aegarax they likely would have begun an aggressive march east to destroy his armies while they were isolated. Regardless, their scouts, along with any spies in Volantis, had done their duty poorly, and now the Myrmen were too fearful to sally out, in no small part from Aurion making clear Aegarax's existence and Valyria's rebirth by flying over the city, showing Myr his might through the clear morning sky. Now they were taking the much more logical path of surrender.
He had sent the envoy with the signed surrender of Lys as proof of the Lysene sellswords' terminated contracts, ending any reason for them to remain in Myr unless the Myrish magisters wished to bankrupt themselves by negotiating more contracts after hiring the Golden Company.
It had been an hour since his diplomat had entered the city, and now he returned with a host of four dozen men towards Aurion's camp. They wore plate cuirasses over hauberk and had light kettle helms. Half held large pavise shields with refined Myrish crossbows on their back, and the others held long pikes and were clad in heavier armor and full helmets. Aurion stood from his shaded respite beneath Aegarax and entered his palanquin, raised by fourteen slaves high enough that even the tallest man atop the largest horse would have to look up to him. In the front of the host were a few more men ahorse alongside a mounted woman in scarlet robes, likely a priestess of the red faith. If Aurion had to wager a guess, the men were the First Magister of Myr alongside the captains of the sellsword companies inside the walls.
"First Magister Terro Trellos, here to negotiate the surrender of Myr!" the herald announced to Aurion, though, like all the men, clearly distracted by Aegarax waking from his own slumber and staring down the newcomers. The herald paused and turned to the aging man with olive skin and dark hair at the front of the host, who dismounted from his red sand steed and knelt before Aurion. He was dressed in a cyan belted tunic with foam of white Myrish lace spilling out his arms and neck, bearing several pieces of gold jewelry. The herald raised his voice once more. "You stand in the presence of his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Aurion of the Varezys dynasty, the First of his Name, Autocrat of Essos, Dragonlord of Valyria, Lord of the Rhoyne and the Summer Sea, Protector of the Realm, and Azor Ahai reborn." The last title piqued all the Myrmen's attention, though it was the red priestess above all Aurion noticed.
"First Magister? Is it no longer Triarch of the Three Daughters?" Triarch Malaquo chuckled beside Aurion, sat in his own– substantially less ornate– palanquin. "It appears at the first sign of true Volantene strength, your Triarchy reveals it is more fragile than Myrish glass."
"...the Archon of Tyrosh has fallen into a sort of… madness and has taken drastic measures against Volantis," the First Magister spoke in a soft tone. "Archon Syrio Zokan has begun conscripting freemen and slaves alike into his garrisons, strictly rationing food while still holding lavish feasts for himself, executing all who oppose his orders, withdrawing Tyroshi forces from our garrisons in Myr– which I may add is in direct violation of our mutual defense agreement in the Triarchy– forcing women and children– burdens, he called them– outside his walls to be stranded on the barren island, to be captured by pirates and slavers… He has slave soldiers putting down slave revolts, and I fear it is only a matter of time before they rise in open revolt. I would not have my people condemned to such suffering." Trello briefly glanced at Aegarax before tilting his head back down. "And it would appear your envoy made no jest. I do truly speak to Emperor Aurion Varezys, returned from the dead."
"You would hardly be the first to be surprised by my existence," Aurion smiled. The First Magister paused, then shook his head. "Truth be told, I had been informed of your return. I simply chose to not believe it. I shan't make such a mistake twice."
"Informed?" Aurion asked, curious. "By whom?" Aurion would have to be more diligent of spies among his ranks. First Magister Trellos gestured behind him to the Red Priestess, "Exiled from the Volantene sect of the Faith of R'hllor years ago, Lady Kinvara has risen to become High Priestess of R'hllor in Myr." Aurion saw Moqorro's red eyes widen for but a second before he returned to his stoic expression.
The woman was clad in robes of scarlet satin and blood velvet, and when Aurion looked beneath her red necklace in the fashion of Asshai, little of her buxom chest was left to the imagination. The rest of her form was hidden beneath a scarlet cloak, and Aurion silently hoped he could see her relieve herself of the unnecessary coverings in the scorching heat of Myr. Unusually, the pale skin of her face was barren of the tattoos oft found on the Red Priests of Volantis, allowing her beauty to lay evident. Kinvara caught Aurion's gaze for a moment before she looked down to the side of his palanquin, where Moqorro stood. "Benerro preaches Emperor Aurion as Azor Ahai reborn," she said. "And it would seem you are doing his bidding, as the ever-loyal dog."
Kinvara seemed to be acquainted with Moqorro in the past, with how targeted her words were. "He does not preach heresy against the Lord of Light. You forget how R'hllor has protected you! We owe everything to Him," Moqorro growled. "Enough," Kinvara said, looking up at Aurion. "This is not the place to discuss our disagreements. I have advised the First Magister to surrender his arms days ago. I can not dispute that your Emperor's return is a divine sign."
"Yet you flaunt about, defying-"
"I care not for your petty squabbles," Aurion interjected, glaring at Moqorro, who nodded and stepped back in submission. "Lady Kinvara had the right of it. We are gathered here to discuss the surrender of Myr, not debate theology." Aurion sighed internally, it was likely some pointless dispute over the semantics of a sacred text. He turned to the First Magister. "You knew of my return, yet still called your soldiers and hired sellswords to wage war?"
"And now I kneel before your might, Your Majesty," Terro said, looking down in disappointment. "You show repentance. And for that, I can show forgiveness for your transgressions. Let there be peace, which shall open the gates for prosperity for us all– Myrmen, Lyeseni, Tyroshi, and Volantene alike. There has been no instance of a nation benefitting from prolonged warfare, and you have acted in the best interest of your people this day."
He had Lord Triarch Malaquo Maegyr bring the armies within the gates, accepting the surrender of the garrison.
Once the city was secured, Aurion gestured for his palanquin to be set down. Drawing Solfyre, he placed the gleaming white blade on the man's shoulder. Just the graze against the man's robes cut through and drew blood. The man hardly flinched, merely clenching his fists tight as he winced. "Swear on all the gods that you will remain an ever-faithful servant. That you will rise as Archon of Myr and act only in service to the crown of Valyria. That if I order you to end your life, then you will most certainly die."
"I swear that I shall faithfully execute all that the Emperor commands, that I shall never act against Your Imperial Majesty… and that I shall not seek to avoid death for the Valyrian Empire," Terro responded. Aurion sheathed Solfyre, "Then rise, Terro Trellos, Archon of Myr, servant of the Empire of Valyria." Aurion was most pleased by Myr's peaceful surrender. It was best to subdue the enemy without fighting. In many ways, the city was home to more advanced craftsmen than could be found in Volantis, though they still paled next to true Valyrian industry. Still a valuable piece of land, especially once the former Disputed Lands could be settled.
The land was most fertile, yet ravaged by endless war between the Three Daughters. Aurion wished to plan where the best colonies could be established, not only to grow the population and take advantage of the land's resources but to also further spread the Volantene influence west. Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr had squabbled for centuries over this land, as they knew whichever of the Three Daughters controlled the Disputed Lands would have the strength and resources to control the other two. Now Aurion would control them all. He found himself thinking of other locations where he could send settlers and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
It was time for the negotiations with the sellsword captains. Gylo Rhegan, captain of the Long Lances, was a murmuring coward, and Aurion could not fathom how eight hundred riders followed him. Nonetheless, he was easy to convince to join Aurion's forces with the threat of Aegarax looming over him. The Lyseni must have been truly desperate to hire the Second Sons from as far as Slaver's Bay. The captain, Mero, was a tall man with a bushy red beard and feral green eyes. The Titan's Bastard, he supposedly called himself. Boastful and crude, he was quick to agree to join employment from Aurion under the prospect of more bloodshed.
"Men like him are why I despise sellswords," Triarch Malaquo muttered as the captain left.
"I must concur with your judgment," Aurion sighed. He would need more men if he wished to control a more vast empire, and their coffers could not afford to hire sellswords for eternity, even if they were overflowing at the moment from his conquests. "Five hundred good men, led by a man with the sense of a feral bull. Mayhaps Tessarion shall bestow us his favor, and Mero will come upon a most fatal malady soon." Malaquo knew the meaning of his words and hummed in response as the next captain entered the tent.
"Harry Strickland, Captain General of the Golden Company," the herald announced, preparing to recite the titles once more. "You stand in the presence of his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Aurion of the Varezys dynasty, the First of his Name, Autocrat of Essos, Dragonlord of Valyria, Lord of the Rhoyne and the Summer Sea, Protector of the Realm, and Azor Ahai reborn."
Harry Strickland was not who Aurion thought would be in command of the esteemed sellsword company. He was a portly man with a big round head, soft grey eyes, and thinning grey hair brushed sideways. His unscathed steel plate shined brightly in the Myrish sun. He walked with a limp and spoke with a strong Andal accent. "I too had heard rumors of a dragon from the red priests, yet hearing it was the return of an ancient Valyrian Dragonlord was… not what I had expected."
"Were you expecting someone else to bear a dragon?" Aurion asked. "Who else could do as I've done? Did you suppose I was Viserys Targaryen, uncovering a dragon in the Sarnori plains after permitting a mongrel horse lord barbarian to defile my sister?" Lord Strickland flinched away for but a second, his expression unreadable. Aurion breathed in slowly. He had almost allowed his fury at the fate of the only others whom he could name his people to allow his tone to grow harsher than he intended. In a more reserved manner, Aurion continued, "The Targaryens are dead or gone. We are here so we can discuss your future employment." After a second of silence, Harry Strickland spoke. "The captains of the Golden Company have met. And we have agreed we are unable to pledge service to you regardless of the gold you offer."
What game was he playing? The Golden Company was the only sellsword group Aurion truly wished to hire from among the rabble. "You must pardon my ignorance, having missed four hundred years of history. But you are aware that the only employment you will find in Essos at this point are the poor and desolate cities in the northeast or in Ghiscari lands, defending against Dothaki hordes. Neither are wealthy enough to employ your services for an extended time. Unless you are planning to take your chances with Archon Syrio Zokan of Tyrosh and his mad defense?"
"...may I speak with you in private… without Triarch Malaquo present?" Lord Strickland asked. An amusing and bold request, it piqued Aurion's curiosity. He nodded to the old tiger, who was escorted out atop his own palanquin carried by his slaves. Aurion remained silent, looking down at Harry Strickland as the captain sat on a chair on the side of the tent. "You must pardon me if I sit. My toes have been cursed to be prone to blisters." Aurion held back a laugh at the man's words. His raw honesty was a welcome respite; perhaps Aurion had thought the man more craven than he truly was. No craven would sit before asking in the company of a dragonlord. And he did not need to keep up appearances while he was all but alone, so he allowed it.
"You are aware of the ongoing war in Westeros?" Lord Strickland asked. Aurion nodded. "Gold is most abundant in Westeros, and the Golden Company has… already arranged a contract, and we will be marching to Volon Therys, where we hope to sail west, paying the proper fees to you, of course. To break our contract would be to break the trust we have built over four generations." Our word is gold, Aurion recalled their saying.
"Of course, I would not ask you to renege on a contract," Aurion waved his hand dismissively, trying his best to conceal his scowl.
"We have also… discussed terms with the Stormbreakers and Ragged Standard companies, who will be joining forces with us and do not wish to negotiate further."
Aurion felt his stomach churn as his temper burned within him and stifled it as best he could. "I care not what sellswords do with their own men. We have yet to cross swords, and you best hope to keep it that way." Twelve thousand men in total, seemingly bound for Westeros from Volantis. The ever-wealthy Lannisters were Aurion's guess. The ones who had owned the greatsword he gave Triarch Nyessos Vhassar as a "gift." He knew little of the current war in the Sunset Kingdoms, but from what he could gather the northern two of the kingdoms had risen in rebellion under the Stark banner against the Baratheons– a cadet branch of the Durrandons who hailed from Aegon Targaryen's illegitimate half-brother– and the Lannisters. Aurion cared only that they were all families responsible for the death of the Targaryens, and would receive their punishment soon enough.
Harry Strickland was dismissed. Afterward, Aurion had met with the captain of the Men of Valor, and the fifteen hundred men were easily bought. Yet Aurion could only watch with undisguised fury burning in his eyes as he watched Harry Strickland leading his men out of the camp.
That night was spent planning for an invasion of Tyrosh. The city, being founded as a military outpost, was far more well-defended than the pleasure city of Lys. Even if he burned all the walls, a naval invasion would simply result in too many casualties, and Aurion did not wish to turn Tyrosh into ash. Terro's counsel led his staff to believe Archon Syrio would not be open to negotiation. With much of their fleet still stationed in Lys, it was decided that the first legion would sail through the stepstones, with Aurion, atop Aegarax, burning any Tyroshi or pirate fleet alike. Once docked in Lys, a blockade would ensue, starving the city of supplies. Legate Belicho Staegone, having experience with the attack on Lys, would maintain command over the first legion. A move to further appease the man's political ambition, contested by Malaquo Maegyr. It seems he was so certain a second Tiger would triumph in the elections already he did not wish to give too much glory to his future co-Triarch.
Overall, it would be less than a month before Tyrosh would be forced to surrender, and Aurion's forces would walk through the city. Depending on how soon he surrendered, Syrio may even be allowed to remain Archon. Likely not, Aurion thought. A messenger bearing a letter for the Archon was sent to Tyrosh, and Aurion mounted Aegarax to return to Volantis. He wished to consult the Supreme Stormsinger on his dreams and how they were plaguing his judgment.
Riding atop Aegarax, it was easy to calm his mind as the wind flew into his face, each beat of Aegarax's massive wings causing him to bounce slightly as he flew. He had a saddle being constructed, but he predicted it would take longer than expected due to the lack of craftsmen with experience producing such a saddle. To say nothing of how he would need to ensure absolute safety, as a single flaw in the design… no, it was safer to ride Aegarax without a saddle for now, even if it did limit his potential maneuverability and speed. He would take the non-existent risk of a scorpion bolt directly hitting him over the exceedingly likely risk of a poorly-made saddle sending him falling hundreds of feet to his untimely second demise. It was not as though anyone alive had a dragon he would need to dance with anyhow.
Aurion landed Aegarax within the Black Walls, outside the Maegyr manse he had made his temporary palace. He slept calmly for the night, and the next day a dozen legionnaires escorted him to the Volantene temple of the Fourteen, a tall tower that made a pale imitation of the one Aurion had known in Valyria. Here the Supreme Storminger and the fourteen flamens led the College of Stormsingers, assuming Volantis had maintained a similar structure once it had named itself the new center of the Valyrian faith. While men with magical ability could do their duty to the gods by joining the Pyromancer's Guild beneath the Fourteen Flames, the magical priests of Valyria were all women.
Three of the hooded Virgins of the Hearth bowed to him at the entrance. He had his guards stand at the door, even handing Solfyre over to one, as no weapons were allowed inside. Even Dragonlords had to show respect to the gods. The young maidens took him to another room, stripped him of his armor, and cleaned him in a hot bath, as one should hide nothing from the gods. He felt the cool breeze hitting his bare skin in the temple, a welcome respite from the heat outside.
They led him down a long hall, where carvings of the Fourteen were engraved on the black marble walls. There was Balerion, the god of fire and gold, followed by Morghul, the god of death, pain, and medicine. He saw Vhagar, the god of war and conquest fighting beside Tyraxes, the god of wisdom and strategy. Syraxes, goddess of wine, pleasure, festivity, and madness danced as Tessarion, god of music, art, shepherds, and harvest plucked a harp. There was Arrax, the god of the underworld, and Shrykos, the goddess of beginnings and ends. Vermax, Meraxes, Caraxes, Vermithor, Meleys, and finally, standing above all, was Aegarax. The god of the sun and sky, law and order, strength and virtue, king of the gods, for whom Aurion had named his dragon.
Or rather, the name his father had given him, as Aurion himself was much too young when his glorious golden dragon hatched from his nondescript rock of an egg.
"Your Majesty," Aurion heard a woman say as they approached a large meditation room at the very end, the double doors opened by his escort. He focused his eyes on the white-robed woman facing away from him, kneeling before fourteen small statues of symbols of the gods. "Supreme Stormsinger Elaera," he responded curtly, nodding in acknowledgment as the three virgin women left them to speak alone.
"Your walk is heavy. You carry something that weighs you down," she said, her voice soothing and enchanting. She stood from her knees and walked over to the first statue. She cupped it with her hands and whispered a blessing until a small purple flame seeped through. She repeated her ritual with the other fourteen figures until all were aflame and the whole chamber was scented with an aroma of myrrh, mint, marjoram, thyme, myrtle, almond blossom, and other smells he could not name, warming until he felt as though his skin were cloaked with a warm silk blanket. The flames left the room covered with an amethyst glow on the white marble. Aurion remained silent.
"The blood of the dragon runs strongly in you, more than any others I have met," she began. "The closest I have come was the former Triarch Nyessos Vhassar; he was the last of the descendants of Saera Targaryen in Volantis."
That news had surprised Aurion. "He had Targaryen blood in him?" She hummed in response, "Indeed. You did not know, yet you could sense it in him as well. That is why you approached him, did you not?"
There was no use in lying to a Stormsinger. He had approached him, but he knew not of his blood. "But I approached Doniphos Paenymion–"
"Approach him you did, and you urged the elephant towards caution and restraint, despite knowing little of his character. In contrast, you stoked Nyessos Vhassar's ego, pushed him to war, and granted him the blessing of Vhagar. You could feel his mind, how his passion burned hot. His ambition raw, untamed, and without end." She spoke boldly, her tone deliberate and revealing of the wisdom in her accusations, no, statements. There was no anger or resentment behind her words, merely reality. "Yours burn much hotter than his, yet I sense a coldness in you as well, one well suppressed."
"A coldness?" Aurion asked. He knew not of what she spoke. The Supreme Stormsinger nodded, "It is dull, yet ever-present. Do not turn away. Listen… feel it echoing within you... it is weak now, as though you have forgotten." She dipped her fingers in a bowl of holy oil, stood on her toes to reach his height, and ran the oil across his forehead. It felt warm and comforting. "I sense there are many things you have forgotten."
He did not know how the woman knew of his struggles remembering what happened during his expedition into Valyria. "Since the Doom… all I can remember from its aftermath are images, swift and fleeting, of ash and monsters, of fire and death. I see the bones of my friends and kin, and my mind is haunted by distant dreams and visions. I also find myself also being able to see through the eyes of my Aegarax, in a bond I have never seen nor read of in all my studies."
"These visions you see… the power you possess… as a cool breeze may swiftly turn into a gale, you are quickly reopening yourself to your inner self. Only once you control yourself in your entirety will your urges of passion no longer drive you, and you will stand firm in the whirlwind of power that is your will." Perhaps he would have to meditate on her words, on the nature of his unexplored bond with Aegarax. The Supreme Stormsinger smiled, and the flames extinguished as she spoke, "But now, as it seems, is time for fire."
Aurion frowned, "What do you–" he heard loud footsteps behind him, and turned to see a man he recognized as one of his legionnaire guards dashing down the hall, seemingly forced to strip as well. At least he followed the customs, Aurion chuckled internally as he watched the man interrupt his private meeting. "Your Majesty!" the man called out once he saw he had caught Aurion's attention. "A scout has arrived," he gasped, out of breath, "a Dothraki Khal named Pono, with a khalasar of thirty thousand men, is marching on Selhorys!"
Thirty thousand men? Damn the gods, this was the worst timing. Almost his entire army was on the other side of the continent. It was unlikely he could move the garrison of Volantis, Volon Therys, or Valysar fast enough. He was stuck with the thousand-strong garrison of enslaved tiger cloaks of Selhorys. The reputation of the Dothraki was fierce, the slave soldiers would likely be routed quickly if he had them sally out the walls. But if he did nothing, the Dothraki could raid the nearby villages unrestrained. And he did not even think about paying them tribute. No, Khal Pono would see why the Dothraki mongrels were kept at bay by the Freehold for thousands of years.
He had destroyed the Sarnori army once with Jaenara Belaerys when Aegarax was a fraction of his current size. They were so thoroughly battered that the Tall Men were weak enough to be almost entirely destroyed by the Dothraki themselves. The Dothraki were not the Sarnori, but they would burn the same.
"Prepare my arms and dragon," Aurion ordered. The legionnaire bowed and then sprinted back to the entrance. Aurion glanced at the Supreme Stormsinger, who nodded, so he himself followed the legionnaire.
His scale and helmet were quick enough to don with the help of the virgin women. He placed his helmet on, the dragonsteel mask obscuring his face, showing the world a cold expression. He felt the wind had picked up since he arrived at the temple and walked with haste.
It occurred to him as he approached Aegarax that the legionnaire did not know exactly what preparing his dragon would entail, as a dozen men were merely standing far away from his dragon not doing anything. How foolish of him, of course they did not have the training or mettle Valyrian dragon keepers had. Nor did he truly need them, as he still lacked a saddle for Aegarax. He walked past the men and stepped atop Aegarax's wing, who growled in excitement as he sensed Aurion's intentions for fire and blood. He shouted orders to send half the garrisons of Volon Therys and a quarter of Valysar to reinforce Selhorys, but they would only arrive after Aurion was finished.
Selhorys was far shorter a voyage, and soon he saw the sandstone walls of the fairly-sized city, with parchment lanterns outside the walls glowing in the evening sky. He circled around the city thrice to allow them time to gather a proper greeting and landed just outside the walls, where shops and stalls and storehouses huddled beneath. The towers and domes of the city were visible beyond it, reddened by the light of the setting sun.
The gates opened and a dozen tiger cloak guards marched out, led by a man atop a black warhorse. "Your Majesty," the man bowed his head as he approached. Aegarax served far more effectively than a palanquin. "I am Vogar Nogarys, Archon of Selhorys as appointed by Triarch Malaquo Maegyr."
Vogar Nogarys informed Aurion where his scout had spotted the Dothraki camp. After he had told them they would not be paying tribute earlier in the day, their envoy was killed and Khal Pono announced he would pillage every village near the city, killing all the men and raping the women, burning the crops, and all other threats the savages frequently made. Tonight, they were camping a few leagues east of the city. Aurion got atop Aegarax once more and flew.
In the distance, he saw the camp, sprawling with tents and campfires, though he was high enough that he could not hear. To his benefit, it was unlikely they could see him. For now, at least, as he intended to make his presence known. Out of Pono's khalasar, perhaps ten to fifteen thousand were warriors. But he would not just be killing them.
Aegarax thundered a war cry that would make Dothraki screamers pale and Aurion had him swoop down. "Dracarys!" Aurion yelled, and Aegarax's maw parted as he unleashed a blazing inferno of golden flame, lighting the sky as though he were the sun god himself. The tents were set aflame instantly and the dry plains would spread it far. Now he heard their screams of pain and terror, shouting in their barbarian language.
He would have to praise them for their recovery, however, as Aurion was quickly showered with arrows. He felt one bounce harmlessly off his left arm due to his spellforged dragonsteel armor, which absorbed the force so well it would not even leave a bruise. And he knew Aegarax would be unharmed, as his dragon's thick eyelids now covered his glowing golden orbs. He could see through Aurion, just as Aurion could him.
He circled around the perimeter of the camp, attempting to trap much of the Dothraki within as they burned. Many escaped, but many burned. Once he finished, Aegarax landed inside the camp, snarling before he unleashed another wave of fire, moving his neck to create a golden wall of death in a circle around him. Aurion reached out to the flames and pushed his arms out, fanning the circle of hell through the camp. Many were retreating, and many tried their hand at riding through the flames only to emerge with both them and their horses as charred corpses, falling harmlessly.
The smell of burning flesh permeated into his masked helmet, and before he threw up inside his helmet he pulled Aurion's scales, sending him into the air once more. The khalasar was now mounted and in full scatter. He let the ones fleeing east go and focused his efforts on the ones moving south and west, toward vulnerable villages.
A mass of a few hundred riders were in an organized formation, so Aurion soared behind them and cooked them alive with one dive. He spotted another group in retreat circle around and flee south alongside the Rhoyne while Aurion was distracted with the west. Aurion flew after them and ended their miserable lives. After killing a few more stragglers, the khalasar was utterly annihilated.
He returned to Selhorys to inform Archon Vogar that Khal Pono, if he survived, would be no threat for quite a while. The Archon said he would be sure to have singers tell of their Emperor's victory over the horse lords, the first time in centuries they had been turned back in this city. Aurion heard the cheers from the people and rewarded them by circling the city once more with Aegarax, breathing his golden flame in the night sky as they shrieked in excitement. He slept in the Archon's palace for the night and soon returned to Volantis.
It was not even a month before a messenger entered the grand hall, interrupting a debate over the lack of a diplomatic response from Braavos over their claims on Pentos and the Flatlands, and announced they had received word of the Tyroshi surrender. "The Archon finally came to his senses. Parquello, work with Doniphos to draft a response. The terms will be the same as with Myr, except the Triarchy will be formally dissolved and the separate cities integrated into the Valyrian Empire, the Archon will be forced to pay–"
"Excuse me, your Majesty," the messenger said. He trembled as Aurion glared at him for the interruption, but he gestured for him to speak. "The surrender was not from the Archon, but from a man who claims to be the new King of the Free Kingdom of Tyrosh. It seems a slave uprising occurred, and they propose complete surrender as long as all slaves in Tyrosh remain free. The King offers safe passage into Tyrosh to further negotiate."
Aurion leaned back in amusement. The Tyroshi had just grown much more interesting.