After the battle with the servants of Tzeentch our heroes must make for the safe haven of Bretonnia and then to the Boarder Lands where Jon shall meet one of his great loves.
Kindly leave a review sorry for the delay, I caught covid and it's been hard to right so point out grammatical errors
In the aftermath of the battle, the survivors took stock of their situation; of the original crew of thirty, only eight were still alive and capable of manning the vessel. As in the aftermath of the battle at Castle Black, Jon and the others went among the wounded, aiding those they could save and giving mercy to those of their own whose wounds were clearly mortal and any enemy still living. To Jon's surprise and immense relief, one of the men in Herman's retinue, a man named Max Striber, was a physician. Unfortunately, though Max worked himself to exhaustion for hours, many of those he tried to help were lost despite his efforts.
There was also the matter of the bodies of the slain. The bodies of Khyrir and his raiders were pulled to the side with boathooks and dumped over the side. They were forced to do the same for their own dead, but these were given what respect that the survivors could afford them. The bodies were weighed down to ensure that they sank, and as they were thrown over the side General Schwartz and the ship's captain muttered prayers to Morr, Sigmar and Mannan to watch over the souls of those who had died fighting the servants of the Dark Gods at sea. Once this was done, the captain and Herman met in Herman's cabin to discuss what to do next. After some time, they emerged, and Herman motioned for Jon and the others to come over to join him. Once they all came together, Herman began to speak.
"It will come as no surprise to any of you that it has been determined that we cannot continue as we are. We have lost too many of the crew, and the ship has taken too much damage."
"Are we turning back then?" Sir Lambert asked. Herman shook his head.
"We cannot even do that. The captain does not believe that we could make it."
"Then what are we going to do?" General Schwartz demanded.
"We are turning south.
"The captain informed me that we are not far from the Bretonnian city of L'Anguille.
"There we can take portage and hire sailors to replace our losses." He looked at them all to see if there were any questions, but, in truth, there was nothing to be said, and he received only silence. He nodded and then returned to his quarters, where Sumaira lay resting.
Khyrir had broken her leg, and she had suffered several cuts and bruises from being thrown. Fortunately, none of these were severe, and the break had been a clean one, and Max had had no difficulty in setting it. It would, he had assured her, heal, but it would take some time. Until then, she was bedridden; attended by Herman's servants and Herman himself hovering around her, something Ingfried told Jon that she found annoying, if somewhat romantic. However, Jon had little time to think of such things.
With so many of the crew dead or too injured to perform their duties, Jon, Sir Lambert, Gundrin and many of Herman's servants as were deemed useful were drafted to fulfil the responsibilities of the missing crew. While none of them were sailors, there seemed to be an endless number of duties involved in the sailing of a ship which appeared to require little but brute strength. Jon wished that he had spoken more with the few brothers of the Watch who had experience with ships, but he could only do his best and listen to the advice of the remaining sailors. While they worked, Ingfried generated wind to propel the ship forward though summoning such magics was wearying, still she refused to either stop or complain. The only good thing to come of the battle, if it could be called such, was the fact that they did not have far to go to reach L'Anguille. This meant that William could provide large meals for everyone aboard the ship, which was a small courtesy, but it did much to raise the spirits of those left. Two days after the battle, the lookout declared that land was in sight and soon after Jon could see it as well.
The first thing that Jon saw was a large lighthouse which looked to be several hundred feet tall and appeared to be made of a single piece of stone. The city beyond seemed to be constructed around a harbour, in the middle of which was an island upon which a formidable castle had been raised. The city itself, at least from a distance, looked to be a prosperous place. The harbour was large, and Jon counted at least thirty vessels of many shapes and sizes. Jon could not see the entirety of the city, but he could see the high wall of white stone encircled the city. Their arrival had clearly been spotted as a skiff holding aloft a banner bearing a blue dragon upon a field of white began rowing out from the castle. The skiff came alongside, and a man climbed up onto the deck.
The man was taller than most, clad in plate armour, and a great gold chain bearing a glimmering trident hung from his neck. From the way that the man carried himself, Jon guessed he was someone of great importance. As the man came onto the deck, Herman went up to him. The man said something in a language which Jon did not understand. Fortunately, Herman not only understood what the man was saying, but spoke the language as well. At a signal from Herman, one of his servants brought forward a letter with a large wax seal at the bottom. The man took the letter and, after examining the seal, read the letter. After he had finished, he returned the letter and made an elaborate bow, had a brief conversation with Herman; whatever he said seemed to please Herman, and he then returned to the skiff, which began to row back to the castle, leaving the Gilded Hind to make its way to an empty pier and dock. Once they did so, the crew secured the ship while Herman sent one of his servants into the city and waited. About half an hour later, three carriages and several wagons arrived. Herman helped Sumairaaa into the lead carriage, where they were joined by Sir Lambert, Jon, Ingfried and General Schwartz while Gundrin, who there was no room inside for, climbed up with the driver, crossbow in hand. William and the other servants loaded the wagons and rode on them, Ghost going with William, much to the discomfort of those on the wagon with them. Once everyone was ready, they made their way from the docks and into the city proper.
A thin layer of snow lay on the ground, but the city was far warmer than any of the Empire, and it looked as if it would soon melt. While crowded, L'Anguille did not appear to be as large as either Marienburg or Altdorf but seemed to be just as lively. Indeed, the whole city seemed to have a festive air about them. The people, for the most part, seemed to be smiling, laughing and drinking. Here and there, Jon saw people playing instruments. There were tightrope walkers, tumblers and acrobats cavorting amongst the crowd.
"Seems a rather festive place." Sir Lambert commented. Ingfried, walking beside Jon, nodded.
"Yes, Sir Lambert. According to the harbour master, a tournament is being held."
"Seems an odd time to hold a tournament." Said, Sir Lambert.
"Normally it is." Ingfried agreed.
"However, this is a special occasion. It is being held in honour of Baron Fritz von Straffer, the new ambassador from the Empire to Bretonnia, who we are going to meet now."
Ahead of them, Herman laughed in a slightly cynical manner.
"Honour, you say, My Lady, I have a different word for it. Intimidation." Jon was confused.
"Are Bretonnia and the Empire not allies? I thought that the emperor was going to request the Bretonnian king's aid."
"Oh, he is," Herman informed him; "But just because our peoples share common foes does not make us friends." He paused and took a thoughtful look.
"Though I suppose you could not call us enemies either. In truth, we have been both allies and enemies in the past. We fought together in the crusade against Araby, and we have fought one another numerous times over where exactly the border between our two lands lies. Emperor Karl Franz and King Louen Leoncoeur indeed share a deep personal friendship, but neither can allow that to interfere with politics.
"Both men are new to their positions, with the King having held the throne for only four years and the emperor only having been elected two years ago."
"Elected?" Jon asked.
"Did he not inherit it from his father?" He thought that he had heard that somewhere. But clearly, it was not the case. Herman gave him a look, and Ingfried gave a barely perceptible flinch. Clearly, Jon had displayed his ignorance of something which was common knowledge here. Before the silence could become award, Ingfried joined the conversation.
"Yes, he was elected, though truth be told it was like he succeeded his father and from Riekland, like all emperors of late." While it was clear she had spoken to deflect attention from Jon, he was surprised at the bitterness in her voice. General Schwartz clearly heard it as well.
"Now, now," he said in calming tone; "While I can understand your feelings, the election was fairly won." She snorted and gave a bitter laugh.
"Fair. With three votes in addition to his own free and clear." As she spoke, her voice became angrier, and she began rubbing her fingers." General Schwartz gave her a warning look, and Herman quickly rejoined the conversation.
"It was a bitter election, and true, some in the north still claim that Graf Boris Todbringer of Middenheim should have been elected. But it is over and done with," At his words, Ingfried started to make a gesture of agreement but stopped herself as Herman continued speaking.
"So, while for the moment things are calm, matters are still tense between Altdorf and Middenheim and their various supporters.
"The Bretonnians are not unaware of this, and unlike the Emperor, the King suffers from no such internal division.
"Apart from securing promises of aid from the threat of the North, one of Ambassador von Straffer's tasks is to finally settle where exactly the border is between our two kingdoms. Therefore, in addition to honouring him, this tournament, which I was told includes knights from all the dukedoms of Bretonnia, is to remind von Straffer of the might and unity of Bretonnia during the negotiations.
Jon nodded his understanding. It made sense and sounded a great deal like the behaviour of many lords in Westeros, at least according to Maester Luwin's lessons. He hoped this posturing did not lead to conflict, as it had back home at times. It seemed that far more important events than some border skirmishes. That harkened too much, once again, to home and the War of the Five Kings and the Watch's battles with the Wildlings while the Others were gathering their strength in the Far North beyond the Wall. That thought reminded him of his duties and the need for him to return home. The thought of the Wall and then the whole realm falling and him not being there to aid those he had sworn to protect made him shudder and reminded him how important it was to find a way to get home.
The carriages and wagons continued to make their way through the city's streets until they came to the more prosperous part of the city and arrived at a large, walled palatial home. Standing at the gate were two soldiers wearing uniforms similar to the ones that he had seen in Altdorf. It was clear that they had been expected, and the soldiers waved them in without question. Inside the courtyard were a number of people who were clearly servants led by a well-dressed man who radiated a superior air. The lead carriage pulled up in front of the man, who motioned for one of the servants to open the door. As Herman exited and helped Sumaira down, the man bowed.
"Greetings, Lord von Mannheim, and welcome to L'Anguille. I am Wilburg Saks, steward of Baron von Straffer. Unfortunately, my master was called away, but he bid me make you welcome until he returns." Then, with a command, the servants came forward and began to unload the wagons and take their possessions inside.
The inside of the estate was as luxurious as the outside. Strangely, in a way, it reminded Jon more of the castles of Westeros than any that he had seen in the Empire. There was simply an…air about the place that seemed more familiar, one that he had difficulty putting his finger on; it just was. One point that he could understand was the fact that, in the place of the portraits that seemed prevalent in the Empire, the walls here were hung with tapestries, like those in the castles of Westeros. They were primarily of knights battling dragons, monsters and other foes. While many of the foes portrayed were unfamiliar to Jon, the knights were quite familiar. A polite cough from Ingfried brought Jon back to the present, and he had to hurry to catch up to the others. They were led up a flight of stairs to the second floor; once there, a servant led Jon and Gunther to what was revealed to be a suite of rooms.
"I will have water brought for you to bathe," Saks said, addressing the entire group.
"The Duke L'Anguille is hosting a feast for the Baron, and I am sure you will be invited as well." Jon was tired, but the thought of a feast cheered him, as did the prospect of a hot bath.
He entered the room as Gunther followed after him; shortly thereafter a pair of servants brought in the trunk which held his possessions. A short time after that, more servants brought in a wooden tub and buckets of hot water. They also brought a brush and soap. Jon gratefully pulled off the clothes he had been wearing since the battle, which were more than a little rank, and climbed into the tub. As soon as he entered the water, he felt his tense muscles begin to relax and loosen up. As he scrubbed himself, Gunther began to unpack the truck, a look on his face which made Jon slightly uneasy.
"What are you thinking?" Jon demanded. Gunther gave him a look of perfect innocence, which did not fool Jon for a moment.
"Nothing, My Lord." At a look from Jon, Gunther sighed.
"Well, perhaps I was thinking that there a large number of rich people here in great need of humbling."
"No," Jon said firmly.
"Come, My Lord, the people here have it coming. From what I saw, the whole place is full of merchants and nobles.
"Everyone knows that merchants exploit the needs of others, and they're not even proper Empire merchants; they're bloody Bretonnians, pampered poofs the lot of them.
"Also, it's a fact that Bretonnian nobles treat their peasants even worse than the Empire nobles do. Working them to death and taking the majority of it. Thieving from them is not just a divine command… it's practically justice." Jon shushed him and tried to go back to relaxing.
After he got out of the tub and dried himself, he found the clothing he had worn to Herman's father's party. As he dressed, a knock came at the door; when Gunther opened it, Jon saw Ingfried wearing the same dress she had worn to Herman's father's party.
"May I come in?" She inquired. At a nod from Jon, she came in and sat down. As she did so, she looked at Gunther and then at Jon, clearly indicating that she wished to be alone with Jon. He quickly took her meaning.
"Gunther, go to the kitchens and see about getting something for you to eat while we are gone."
"Yes, My Lord," Gunther said, leering slightly as he looked between the two. Ingfried flushed, and Jon found himself blushing.
"And behave yourself." He added sternly. Once he was gone, Ingfried began to speak.
"I am sorry for earlier. I failed to remember that you would not understand how our system of government works and how our leaders are chosen. But, as it is likely to be spoken of frequently, I thought I might explain the basics to you while we wait for the feast to begin." Jon, not wishing to appear foolish again, nodded his agreement.
"As I told you before Sigmar united the human tribes into the Empire thousands of years ago, and afterwards he departed, and no one knows where he went. Once it was accepted that he was not returning, the lords of the Empire began to argue over who should become emperor. For a time, it looked as if the Empire would end after only a single generation." Her words caused Jon's mind to return to the lessons Maester Luwin had taught them of the Dance of the Dragons, when Targaryen siblings had torn the Realm apart as they fought for the Iron Throne and had sowed the seeds of the destruction of their dynasty. Oblivious to his thoughts, Ingfried continued to speak.
"Eventually, the counts decided that they would vote to decide which of them would become the next emperor. That set a precedent ever since the emperor was chosen in this manner." Jon nodded. He supposed that it was like the Great Council of 101. He returned his attention to the conversation as Ingfried continued speaking, her tone taking on the tone of a Maester delivering a lecture.
"As time has passed, the Electors have come and gone as provinces in the Empire have fallen and been absorbed by others and reemerge sometimes. Additionally, others have been granted an Electoral Vote. Currently the Electors are: The Elector Counts of Riekland, Stirland, Hochland, Averland, Wissenland, Talabecland, Ostermark, Nordland, Ostland and Middenland. Along with the counts, there is the Elder of the Moot and the Ar-Ulric, the head of my faith." She paused, and her tone became angry and bitter.
"Then there are the Sigmarites."
"It was during the reign of Magnus Pious that the cults were given their votes. I already told you of the Ar-Ulric. The emperor also gave the vote to the Grand Theogonist, the head of their faith. However, that was not the end of it. The emperor was himself a Sigmarite, so in addition to the Grand Theogonist, he also gave votes to the Sigmarite Arch-Lectors. Thus, the Church of Sigmar has three votes to everyone else's one." Her tone became angrier as she continued to speak, though her voice remained low.
"Which means that if one wants to win, one needs the support of the Cult of Sigmar. You will not be surprised to learn that their wealth, holdings, and influence continually grow. Nor is it a coincidence that for nearly the last hundred years, all the emperors have come from Riekland, home of the Sigmarite Cult. Thieving, torturing, hypocritical heretical bastards." As she continued to speak, her voice became little more than mutter and seemingly without realizing it, she began clenching her fist as her body trembled from anger.
Without thinking, Jon went up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders in an effort to calm her. It seemed to have the desired effect as she stopped her tirade, looking slightly abashed.
"Forgive me; I should not have lost my temper like that. Please, forgive me."
"Nothing to forgive." He assured her. He suddenly realized that he was still holding her, and it felt charming. He quickly pulled his hands away, and now it was his turn to flush. For a moment, there was an awkward silence. Finally, Ingfried cleared her throat in a forced manner.
"I should go. I will see you soon." With that, she was gone. Though he was mostly ready to go, he waited briefly before going down to give her some time. Once he decided that enough time had passed, he went down.
The others were already there, with Herman also in what he had worn before and Sir Lambert in boots, trousers, and a bright yellow shirt under a red vest. Perhaps not as elaborate as the others, but they were clearly the best that he had, and he looked more than presentable. General Schwartz had donned an outfit which was both elaborate and martial at the same time. Once again, they boarded carriages and left the estate.
They rode through the city and exited out of a gate. Beyond the gates was a vast field upon which a second city, one made of tents, had been raised. These varied in size, ranging from one or two man tents to some similar to huts or even larger ones. Whatever their size, all of them had banners which displayed the sigils of the knight or lord to which they belonged. Jon could not count how many tents there were, but he was sure that there were easily hundreds and would not have been surprised if he were to be told that there were thousands. It was easily an assemblage of knights greater than even the tourney that was held at Harrenhal before his birth. If he were being honest, he was not even sure that there were as many knights in all of Westeros as there were here.
Beyond the tents was a massive tilting field which looked it could accommodate fifty jousts at a time. Flanking the tilting field on either side were enormous stands for the viewers. In the centre of both stands were many private boxes which were clearly intended for the duke if he were not participating in the joust himself and, more important, for his guests. They were not going to tilting fields; however, they were heading towards a number of canopied tables where a large number of people were eating and drinking while servants ran about with trays of food and drink. As the carriages drew near, servants opened the doors, and a man led them to a table on a raised dais at the far end of the other tables, which were arranged facing each other with a vast space between them.
As they made their way amongst the tables, Jon was able to get a closer look at the people as they passed them. Their manner of dress, as with the tapestries of the estate, bore some similarities to that of Westeros. However, as he looked at them and compared them to the dress of those of the Empire, he found that there was something almost…archaic about them. He also compared those who were clearly knights and nobles and those who were peasants. In addition to their superior dress, the nobles were taller and healthier looking than the peasants. At last, they reached the dais, and Jon was able to look fully at those sitting there.
In The centre of the table sat an older man; Jon guessed that he had to be at least in his mid-fifties. He was dressed in blue and white with the mere dragon sigil on his breast. To his left was a woman of similar age in a dress of blue and gold with her white hair elaborately made up. She was also wearing a large amount of jewellery, including a large necklace of pearls wrapped in silver wire. Also at the table were four people, three in Bretonnian garb and one dressed like an Empire noble.
Of the four of them, the Empire noble, whom Jon took to be Baron von Straffer, was easily the eldest, by at least twenty years. He was dressed in a manner similar to Jon, though his colours were green and yellow. Of the other three, one woman and two men, all looked to be in their early twenties. One of the men looked so much like the duke and his wife that Jon assumed that he was their son. He was even dressed like his father, though somewhat more subdued. His face was weathered like the sailors and Jon guessed that he spent a great deal of time at sea.
The other man had long blond hair and bright green eyes. He was easily the tallest person at the table, well over six feet and while he was not muscular, he was trim and well-shaped. Moreover, his clothing was quartered in black, gold, white and purple. While this should have made him look ridiculous, somehow, it did not. As Jon and the others approached, the man regarded them with an expression which was both bored and contemptuous. Jon took an instant dislike to the man, the man made him think of Joffrey, but at the same time, the man made him wary. Even in the current relaxed setting, the man seemed somehow tense. He reminded Jon of a viper, coiled and ready to strike.
The woman shared some similarities to the duke and his wife, though it was not as strong as it was in the first young man. She had curly red hair and wore a sky-blue dress with gold thread. In addition, she wore a number of rings and a necklace of pearls. Her eyes too were green, but they lacked the man's arrogance. Indeed, as she regarded the newcomers, her eyes revealed a mixture of curiosity and friendliness. Jon turned his attention back to the duke as the party arrived to stand several feet before the dais. Herman took another step forward and made an elaborate bow. He then began to speak in what Jon assumed was Bretonnian. As he did not understand what Herman was saying, Jon instead watched the duke and the others to watch their reactions. He guessed that they had already been told who Herman and the others were and how they came to be there and, indeed, whatever Herman was saying to them did not seem to surprise them. After Herman had finished speaking the duke rose and spoke in a deep, yet cultured, voice.
"I greet you, Lord von Mannheim and I welcome you to L'Anguille. I regret to hear of the deprivations inflicted upon you by the accursed Norscans. I offer you the hospitality of my city for as long as you wish to remain."
"I thank you for your generosity, My Lord, both for myself and those in my company." That seemed to be the end of the speeches as servants escorted them to their seats.
Herman and Ingfried were escorted to seats were where set at the high table with the duke and those whom Jon guessed to be either his family or his honoured guests. Meanwhile, Jon and the others were shown seats at the lower tables. Jon found himself seating with a number of men who were clearly knights. Jon did not speak Bretonnian, and they did not seem to speak the language of the Empire. Fortunately, although they could not speak with one another, they could still communicate. Jon did not have to understand their words to know when a man was boasting, which they clearly were. They almost seemed to take turns going on long-winded boasts while the others listened and either cheered or made sounds of derision. Jon merely listened, laughing at some of the wild and comic gestures along with the others. Some of the food was unfamiliar to him, while others were both familiar and welcome. The wine was also both good and plentiful. However, he remembered the feast that his father had held for the King when he came to Winterfell and how Jon had drunk too much and some of his behaviour resulting from that. Thus, he resolved to moderate how much he drank. This continued for some time until the music, which had been playing softly in the background, became louder and faster. All around Jon men and women rose from the tables and began dancing in the empty space between the two rows of tables.
The dances were just as familiar to him, but he did not join in, asking a woman to dance when he could not speak the language would likely only make him appear foolish. Instead, he looked to the high table and saw that Herman and Ingfried were still seated and talking with the duke. From what he could see, they were engaged in a heated conversation, and he assumed they had moved beyond small talk and were discussing the attack and the need for a replacement crew. Unfortunately, he was too far away to hear what they were saying, nor if the conversation was going well. He could only sit and wait to see what the results were.
"Not joining in the dancing Empire dog ?" Jon turned to find himself facing the tall man from the high table. Jon quickly rose to his feet; though he was shorter than the man, he did not cower.
"No, not at this time." He replied, eager to change the subject.
"I fear that I do not know your name." He did not really care, but it was the expected thing to say. The man smirked again.
"I am Sir Florent de Breban; Knight of the Realm and heir to the Barony of Hautes Plaines and cousin to Cassyon of Parravon, heir to the Dukedom of Parravon." He paused and gave Jon a condescending look.
"Your lord introduced you as Jon Jäger."
"That is what I am called." Jon replied shortly. Jäger was the name Ingfried had given to him, so it was not a lie. Breban was looking at him oddly.
"I note that your lord did not address you as 'Sir' so you are not a knight, yet you are no peasant either." He seemed to ponder this for a moment and then a mocking expression came to him.
"Ah, of course, a bastard then, the unfortunate result of a noble father rolling between the sheets with a scullery maid?" Jon's temper flared and he took a step towards the Breban before he could regain control of himself. The knight saw this and smirked again as his hand fell to the dagger which hung from his belt. Then, before anything else could happen, the younger woman from the high table appeared and took Breban's arm.
"Florent, my love, I adore this dance." She turned to Jon and gave a slight curtsy.
"Forgive us, Sir," said Jon, who had regained control and bowed in return.
"My Lady." He barely had time to say the words before they were gone.
"Good evening, Sir." Came a voice behind Jon. He turned to see the other young man from the high table standing behind him.
"I am Sir Taubert de L'Anguille, son of Duke Gerart de L'Anguille."
Jon bowed low. "My Lord it is an honour to meet you," he said.
"I must apologize for my brother-in-law. He is a brave and skilled warrior, but he can be an ass at times." This was said with a slight chuckle, and Jon found himself warming to the man, who, now that he could see him up close, did not look as if he was much older than Jon himself. Sir Taubert then turned his attention fully on Jon.
"I was told that you slew the Norse leader in single combat. Is that true?" asked Taubert, eyeing him with pride.
"I had help, My Lord," answered Jon.
"Modesty is becoming of a knight. However, I believe that false modesty is just as detrimental. You accomplished a great feat, one that many could not accomplish. It speaks well of you." His tone became serious.
"These raids are an ever-present threat, and those who are capable of doing such feats must be prepared to do so." He paused and laughed a laugh which sounded slightly forced.
"Forgive me. This is a time of enjoyment and here am I sounding like some raving prophet of doom. Come, eat, drink and be merry." With that he called for wine from a servant and then went to join the crowd as Jon watched him go.
The evening carried on, with Jon remaining on the side and watching the dancing. Ingfried and Herman, on the other hand, joined in. The revelry lasted long into the night before it finally came to an end and the participants made their way back to their dwellings. Jon rejoined Ingfried, Sir Lambert and Herman as they made their way back to their carriage. Despite the lateness of the hour and the amount of wine that Jon had seen him drink, Herman appeared to be fully awake and alert. He also appeared to be in a good mood as well. Jon commented on this, and Herman nodded.
"Indeed, I am quite pleased with how things went.
"We have been given permission both to use the port's facilities to repair our ship and hire the sailors necessary to complete our voyage."
"How long will it all take?" General Schwartz asked.
"I do not know." Herman replied.
"I will not know until the shipwrights have a chance to look at it, but I should not be surprised if it does not take some time. Just as well really."
"What do you mean?" Sir Lambert asked.
"The duke has invited us to attend the tourney as his guests. We can hardly say no to his invitation after the hospitality that he showed us now, can we?" There was no arguing, and the remainder of the trip was made in private.
Jon rose early the following day and, joining the others, made their way back to the tilting field. The stands were now filled with people of all social standing. On both sides of the tilting fields were seemingly hundreds of knights awaiting their turns at the list. Soldiers escorted them to the duke's box. Shortly after they were seated the duke's daughter, Jon had not gotten her name, went to the edge of the box. She brought out a silk handkerchief and held it out. She held it out where all could see it for a moment and then let it flutter to the ground. No sooner had she let it go than the knights put spurs to horses and the jousting began.
Two dozen knights squared off against each other; their horses thundering as fast as they could towards their riders' opponents. Finally, they came together with a crash that seemed to shake the ground. Lances splintered as knights fought to maintain their seats and then rode to take fresh ones from squires. While all the lances broke on the first pass, none of the knights was unhorsed. Taking up new lances, the jousts continued. Again, the knights clashed together; this time, some were unhorsed. When this happened, the knights would fight on foot until one yielded. No sooner had they left the field when another pair took their place.
All through the morning, the tourney continued. Servants brought a constant stream of food and drink. The crowds roared with each pass, and Jon found that he was enjoying the event too. Part of him wished he was competing, but this was also pleasurable. Indeed, Jon found only one thing about the entire event disagreeable. Sir Florent de Breban. Wearing a surcoat in the same colouration as the clothing he had been wearing the night before, the only difference being a red Pegasus in the centre of his chest, the knight took to the field.
Though it pained Jon to admit it, the knight was good, better than good, in fact. He defeated every knight he tilted against, unhorsing many of his opponents with a single pass. He was equally successful when he crossed blades with. Such was the ease that he bested them that Jon began thinking that his opponent was a skilled swordsman if he lasted more than five or six strokes. His sword seemed more like a living thing and slashed, flashed and thrust with such speed that its movements were nearly impossible to track and seemed to instinctively find gaps in his opponent's defences. Jon was sure that he would be the tournament champion, and that thought took some of the pleasure from the event. Sir Taubert also performed well but was nowhere near as skilled as Sir Florent. Though he won several victories, he was eventually defeated. Due to the sheer number of knights, they could not all compete that day, and the jousting ended as the sun neared the horizon. Though the competition had ended, the festivities had not.
As in Westeros, an impromptu fair had formed and there was all manner of sights and diversions. While Herman once again went to spend time with Sumaira before once again joining the duke for dinner. Ingfried expressed a desire to take in the sights and Jon offered to accompany her as he did not want to risk running into Sir Florent if he could help it. He was sure that the knight's victories would only make him more insufferable than he already was. Also, if he was being honest with himself, he was enjoying an opportunity to spend time alone with Ingfried. He knew that was probably wrong, but given the alternative and the fact that they would be out in public where nothing improper would happen, he thought that it would be alright.
While Jon saw some people of higher birth, for the most part, the people were smallfolk. Everywhere people ate, drank, danced and sang. People played music, tumblers performed on tightropes and puppeteers performed for crowds. Despite the festive atmosphere, social constraints remained. Whenever they drew near, people would draw back and bow respectfully. Jon did not know if they recognized that Ingfried was a mage, or if they simply assumed that he and she were of noble birth. Jon did not find it too unusual; he had grown up seeing people bow to his father and siblings and being Lord Commander, with all the respect that came to the position. The smallfolk here; however, seemed more servile than back home. Indeed, when they bought two horns of ale and some grilled sausages the woman selling them seemed almost surprised that they were paying for them. Jon commented on this to Ingfried.
"It is true, the peasants of Bretonnia are far more servile than the people of the Empire." She paused and looked around, taking in the fearful looks some were giving her.
"Somethings; however, remain the same."
"Has there been any word on the repairs to the ship?" Jon asked, eager to divert her from the unpleasant thought.
"Von Mannheim spoke to the head of the Guild of Shipwrights and the news seemed good. It seems that the damage was not as extensive than we feared, and the man was confident that we should be able to sail within three days, four at the most."
"That is good news," Jon said, feeling his spirits rising; "How about getting the new crew?"
"We already have them. The captain has been recruiting since this morning. By the time the tournament is over all the repairs should have been made and we will be ready to go." Before Jon could reply Ingfried seemed to notice something and moved away, Jon following after her.
She went a little way and then stopped behind a group of people, mostly children, who were seated in front of a stage where one of the troops of puppeteers were performing. There were several puppets on the stage: a knight, a dragon and a woman. The dragon was between the knight and the woman and the two were clearly fighting. The puppets were surprisingly well-made and realistic looking. The puppeteers were masters of the performing part of their craft as well. They made the puppets moved about with a smooth grace which was almost lifelike. This was added to by their skilled voices. Through some art, they made it seem that their voices were coming from the puppets themselves rather than from above them.
"Lady above!" A feminine voice cried out as the woman puppet jerked about.
"I have been kidnapped by this vile dragon!" even as she spoke the knight bobbed closer.
"Fear not good lady! I, Sir De Mart the Pure, shall slay this wretched beast!" With that the knight lunged at the dragon, whom one of the puppeteers gave a slightly less than convincing roar.
The puppeteers made the two figures jump back and forth, the children gasping and cheering as the "battle" continued. At last, the dragon struck the knight and knocked him to the ground. The children screamed and several of the smaller ones began to cry. As the dragon loomed over the knight the puppeteer controlling the knight called out.
"Lady! Grant me strength!" The knight jerked to its feet and thrust with its sword. It struck the dragon, and with a cry, the dragon fell onto its back. The crowd cheered and threw pieces of copper to the puppeteers, who came out and bowed. Ingfried stepped forward and dropped three silver coins on the stage. The puppeteers seemed clearly shocked at her largess and bowed low as Ingfried walked away. She came back up to Jon and took his arm in hers. Again, he found this both troubling and pleasurable, but did nothing to dislodge her. He told himself that he did not wish to be unkind.
"That was probably more than they will make in a whole year." She said as they walked through the crowd.
"When I was a child, I always enjoyed puppet shows. How about you?"
"There were not many puppet shows where I was growing up and those I saw were not as good as the one we just saw." He paused and thought for a moment.
"We did have singers though and I always had my favourites." Ingfried chuckled slightly.
"Let me guess, you always liked the songs about knights." Jon laughed in turn.
"You would not be wrong." She smiled and leaned against him to rest her head against his shoulder. Jon felt a thrill pass through his body as hers pressed against him and found he did not want to pull away. Thus, they walked about taking in the sights until they returned to rest.
The next day of the tourney passed as the first one had, with knights competing against one another. However, to Jon, the competition seemed even more fierce as the less skilled or simply unlucky knights were defeated. As he had the day before, Sir Florent continued to dominate the field as he defeated opponent after opponent. As he continued to win, he seemed to grow more and more arrogant. The arrogance which he displayed at the feast that night. His presence made Jon glad to know that the next day was the last day of the tourney, and the ship should be repaired by the end of the day, meaning that they could depart the next day. The final day of the tourney began and continued as the last two days had, then an hour after noon, something changed.
About the middle of the second day tilting had changed to one-on-one with a herald calling out the names of the competing knights. He had just named Sir Florent and then turned to the other side where his opponent appeared. Before he could speak, however, the crowd burst into wild cheers for Sir Florent's opponent. Jon, who would have cheered for anyone to unhorse Sir Florent, was not sure why the man was so enthusiastically cheered. Curious, he looked closer at the man.
He was a giant of a man bedecked in shining armour that was a work of inspired artistry, every inch covered in intricate detailing, engravings and inlaid with finely worked silver. A shimmering cloak of blue, lined with soft fur, fluttered behind him, held in place by a heavy golden brooch in the shape of a golden chalice; he rode a great grey gelding which would have been the pride of any noble's stables. It was none of these things; however, which commanded the attention and adoration of the people. It was something else, something which Jon could not quite describe. There was just an…aura about the man, which commanded respect bordering on reverence. The knight was looking about the crowd, and for a moment, their eyes met. Jon was prepared to swear that there was a glow there. He turned to Sir Taubert.
"Who is he?" Before Sir Taubert could reply, his sister, who Jon had learned was named Alain, spoke up in her heavily accented Reikspiel.
"You truly are a foreigner. There is not a man, woman, or child in Bretonnia who does not know of Sir Hue de Bonpuis of Carcassonne. Tales of his deeds are spoken and sung of throughout the whole of the Kingdom. When he was still a Knight Errant and had not seen his seventeenth year, he saved a village in the Grey Mountains from an Ork raiding party single-handedly. He saved a noblewoman from three trolls. He aided the Dukedom of Bordeleaux when they warred against piratical Elves. They say he even defended the Fey Enchantress herself from a massive wyvern. The singers say that after he defeated the monster, he had one of its fangs made into the tip of his war lance and the Fey Enchantress herself blessed it so that it could pierce any armour.
"At last, the Lady of the Lake rewarded his deeds, and he was permitted to drink from the Holy Grail and join the ranks of the Grail Knights, the Lady's champions and the greatest defenders of Bretonnia." Jon knew that the Lady of the Lake was the goddess of Bretonnia, though he knew little of her or what her worship entailed. Still, he said nothing of this to avoid showing his ignorance. Just then, the trumpets sounded, and the two knights spurred towards each other.
The two knights seemed as swift as the wind as they drew together. Jon was sure that Sir Florent's aim would be as accurate as ever. Yet, with barely any movement, Sir Hue moved to the side, and Sir Florent's lance slid off his shield without breaking. Sir Hue's lance, on the other hand, struck Sir Florent's shield full on. The younger knight reeled in the saddle but managed to keep his seat. The knights passed one another, Sir Florent seized a fresh lance from his squire, and the joust continued again they struck, and Sir Florent barely managed to remain on his horse. Finally, on the third pass, both lances broke. This time, however, Sir Florent lost his seat and fell to the ground. As he scrambled to his feet, Sir Hue dismounted, axe in hand.
They traded blows, moving so fast that Jon had difficulty following them. Blade and axe thudded on shields which were swiftly reduced to splinters. By now, the nobles and smallfolk spectators were on their feet: cheering and howling with delight. Watching the combatants, Jon wondered if even Jamie Lannister, said to be one of the best knights in Westeros, could contend with them. Then, so swiftly it took several seconds to sink in, it was over. Sir Hue moved to the side, caught Sir Florent's sword arm with his shield arm and struck Sir Florent on the head. Even with the distance between them, Jon could swear that he could hear the ringing of the blow. Sir Florent dropped to the ground like a felled ox. Alain's hands flew to her mouth, and her eyes were wide with fear. In contrast, everyone else roared their delight so loudly that it was almost deafening.
Seemingly oblivious to the cheers, Sir Hue knelt down, helped Sir Florent to his feet, and aided the younger knight in removing his helmet. Sir Florent bowed to Sir Hue though his face was flaming with shame and anger. The Grail Knight lent in and said something to Sir Florent. Jon could not hear what was said, but he could see how it affected Sir Florent. He seemed to calm down and nodded in agreement. With that, the tournament was concluded.
Sir Hue was escorted to the duke's box to receive his prize. As he drew close, Jon saw that the man was not, as Jon had first assumed, well-preserved like some men he had met. Instead, there was an ageless quality of the man. It was as if he had simply stopped ageing. It made him think of Carmilla, though he tried to shake the thought from his mind.
Sir Hue bowed to the duke. The duke, for his part, made a brief speech praising Sir Hue for his skill and valour and thanking him for the honour that he had done the tourney by competing in it. He then presented the prizes of the tournament to Sir Hue. These consisted of a bag of gold coins and a sword in a sheath of leather, worked with gold and studded with gems. When Sir Hue drew it, the blade was revealed to be pure white and glowed with an inner light. Sir Hue returned the sword to its sheath and belted it at his waist. He bowed to the duke, thanked him, and then departed, handing the coins to his squire and whispering something into the boy's ear. The boy turned and ran off; with that, the duke and his party made their way towards their castle, the Imperial delegation being invited to accompany them. As they made their way through the city, Jon looked out of the carriage window and saw Sir Hue's squire giving the bag of coins to a priestess of Shallya.
The duke hosted all the grandest knights and lords who had participated and the Imperial delegation. Jon found the event quite enjoyable, partly because Sir Florent, though much calmer and more tolerable than before, was still somewhat upset by his loss. In truth, though, Jon paid him little mind. This was their last night before they departed Bretonnia, and he was determined to enjoy it. He ate well, drank well and joined in the dancing. He found himself dancing with Ingfried, and perhaps because of the wine, he found no discomfort at her closeness. Despite this, he had not lost control of himself and found himself looking around as he led Ingfried from the dancefloor back to the tables.
"I do not see Sir Hue anywhere." from nearby, Sir Taubert, a pretty woman on his arm, heard Jon and joined the conversation.
"He has already left. He rarely indulges in feasts and the like. He goes where the Lady calls him." Jon merely had time to nod before they were separated. The evening passed pleasantly, and Jon retired to his room full and content.
The next day Jon and the others rose early and took their leave, Gunther having packed Jon's possessions the night before. Ghost seemed to be the most eager to leave, having been confined to the quarters given to Jon the whole time they were there. Many were making their way from the city now that the tournament had ended, and Herman began to express concern that they would miss the tide. Fortunately, these fears proved to be unfounded, and the ship slid from its moorings and set sail.
Thankfully, this part of the voyage went without incident. After leaving L'Anguille, they sailed west along the coast and continued to follow it when the land turned south. As they never left sight of land, they could set into ports to refurbish supplies as needed, so they often had fresh food. Jon also noticed that it was becoming somewhat warmer the further south they sailed. The change was not dramatic, but compared to the North, it was almost sweltering. He clung to that thought as it made him think of home and remember his vows, as it seemed that memory of these slipped farther and farther away. Ingfried spent much of her time on deck, and they would often walk about the ship talking about this strange new world that he found himself in, or other times they would simply stare out at sea or watch the coast as they sailed past it. Often, she would take his arm and lean against him. He found himself taking pleasure in this, remembering when she kissed him and thinking it would be nice if she would do it again. He fought these thoughts, but that only made it worse. Finally, after some time, they turned to the open water for the final part of their voyage. They were only out of sight of land for a few days, then their destination came into view, and the sight of it took Jon's breath away.
It was a massive city built around an enormous circular harbour and surrounded by high walls. Over the harbour entrance was a great arch that Jon was stunned to see was man-made, and upon which were numerous grand houses. Within the harbour were innumerable ships of all shapes and sizes. They clearly had been expected, for a party was waiting for them as they pulled in to dock. Several of them had the look of officials, while the rest were clearly soldiers. The latter wore colourful clothing, bedecked with puffed sleeves and short capes that should have looked ridiculous. There was nothing absurd, however, about their helmets and breastplates. Nor in the short swords at their belts and halberds in their hands. As they disembarked, Jon could look at them closer and look them in the eye; he saw that they all had the eyes of killers, which would not have looked out of place amongst the Wildlings. Even the officials, all at least of middle years and running from plump to outright fat, carried swords that made him think of Herman's rapier; though their blades were thicker, they had basset handguards. As they all disembarked, the eldest and most elaborately dressed of the officials took a step forward and, sweeping his hat off, executed an elaborate bow.
"Lord Herman von Mannheim. On behalf of the Triumvirate and the Council of Fifty, I welcome you to the Republic of Remas." Herman, for his part, walked forward and embraced the man.
"Federico! My good friend! It is delightful to see you again!" He looked down at the man's large belly and smiled good-naturedly.
"I see that the years have been good to you." Federico smiled back equally warmly.
"As they appear to have been to you.
"I trust your father is well?"
"Healthy as a horse," Herman assured him. He then seemed to remember the others and turned back to look at them.
"Oh, do forgive my lack of manners. This is Federico Pentri, First Secretary to the Council of Fifty." He swiftly made introductions as their baggage was brought ashore Pentri greeted them all and made sympathetic sounds when he saw Sumaira and signalled for servants to help her into a litter which had come with them.
"Terrible, just terrible. The way those northern savages think they can simply go where they please to pillage and burn." With more fussing, the baggage was loaded on carts while Ingfried joined Sumaira in the litter. On the other hand, the men were mounted on horses, a relief to Jon, weary of carriages. Some soldiers gripped their weapons tighter when they saw Ghost, but they were assured that there was nothing to fear. Once this was done, they began moving through the city.
As they did so, Jon looked about. While he had seen many tall buildings since he had come to this land, even so, these took his breath. Not only were they tall, but they were also artistic. They had a liveliness that he had not seen in the Empire. There were statues of whom Jon assumed to be leaders and heroes of the city. At first, he thought that they were going up a hill and then realized that they were, in fact, going up the arch which spanned the entrance to the harbour. It was even more massive than he had first realized; there were buildings the size of palaces with walled gardens. It soon became apparent that they were heading towards one of these.
A wall surrounded it, its gates flanked by twin statues of a woman wearing a breastplate over her dress, holding a shield in her left hand while in her right, she held a spear high, her helmeted head looking up to the sky. Guards at the gate opened them and permitted them entrance. What lay beyond was could only be described as palatial. There was a large garden full of decorative bushes and statues. The palace was fronted with gilded marble. As at Herman's father's estate, there were several carriages along with servants and bodyguards. From within came the sound of music. It seemed that there was a celebration in progress. Jon heard Herman comment on this to Pentri.
"Indeed, this is the home of Alighiero De Felice, one of the Triumvirate this year, and he is hosting a celebration for the birth of his first grandson. Members of all the important families are here, as well as many prominent visitors from outside of the city. They say it will be the event of the year."
"Sounds like quite a party," Herman said; "I am looking forward to it."
They reached the steps leading up, and grooms took their horses. Servants led them to rooms, and Herman urged them to change quickly as the party had already started. Jon dressed again. If this was what diplomacy was, he thought warily, then it was no wonder so many southern nobles were fat. Still, he supposed he preferred battling feasts over any foes he had met, both here and at home. Smiling at the thought, he left his room. As he headed down, he met Ingfried, who now wore a dress of crimson and gold and the others and together, a servant led them to the ballroom. As they neared the ballroom, the sounds of music, speaking and laughing drifted towards them. As they did so two more servants came up and handed them masks while saying to Herman, who nodded and motioned for the others to don the masks.
"What are these?" Jon asked.
"It is a custom here to sometimes wear masks," Herman explained. Jon thought it a strange custom, but he did not complain and donned a silver mask which covered much of his face. It almost felt like he was wearing some kind of strange helmet.
"You look quick hansom." Ingfried, whose own mask was a silver and gold affair which barely covered her eyes. As she could not see his face, Jon assumed that she was mocking him, but it was friendly, and he found himself smiling in return and without prompting he offered her his arm as they walked to the ballroom.
It, like everything else about the palace, was large and elaborate. Marble pillars held up a high ceiling from which massive chandeliers were suspended, from which burned hundreds of candles. The floor was decorated with mosaics, and the walls were covered with paintings, murals and friezes. In an overhead balcony, an orchestra played music for the dancers on the floor. They were all dressed in such flamboyant clothing, much of which seemed to consist of puffy clothing, capes and a wide variety of hats and hairstyles so that some might find it hard to tell one person from another. At the rear of the hall was a raised daises with three large and elaborate chairs; at the moment, two stood empty. The one on the left was occupied, by a slightly plum, pleasant looking woman with two armed men standing behind her. She was well-dressed and wore numerous jewels. In her arms, she held a babe whom Jon assumed was the cause of all the celebrations.
As they entered the hall, an elaborately dressed man struck a staff on the ground, and as soon as it appeared that most people were looking at them, he called out something that Jon could not understand but which he assumed was the man introducing them. Once they had been announced, an older man came forward. Jon guessed that he had to be in his mid-sixties, if not older. His skin was leathery with a deep tan and crisscrossed with numerous scars, with doubtless more concerned by his beard and moustache, both as grey as his hair. Despite his age and old injuries, the man moved with surprising speed and gracefulness. He was dressed in an elaborate outfit of red, blue and green cloth. His sleeves were puffed and trimmed with gold thread. He wore tight hoes and polished shoes. Around his neck was a necklace consisting of strange golden squares linked together. The strangest thing about the necklace was that while the courts looked old, a chain connected them looked much younger, and Jon guessed it had been added later. Atop his head was a large hat which sported an equally large feather. Despite his foppish appearance, his scars spoke of a hard life, and as he drew near, Jon saw nothing soft in his brown eyes. Jon had no doubt that the man was their host, Alighiero De Felice.
This was confirmed when he came up to their party and Herman bowed to him. Herman spoke to De Felice in his own language, which Jon did not understand. The older man accepted the bow and made a brief speech. Again, Jon could not understand it, but it sounded friendly, and Jon guessed that their host was making a welcoming speech, such as at home. Whatever it was, it was short, and the new arrivals joined the rest of the celebrations. Determined to enjoy himself, Jon joined in the festivities. He sampled food and wine from servants, finding the wine good but rather sweet and the food far spicier than he was used to. He soon joined in the dancing. After being on the ship and riding for so long, it felt good to stretch his legs, and he found himself enjoying the dancing. From time to time, the herald would strike his staff on the floor and announce the arrival of a new guest. Each time this occurred, De Felice would personally welcome them. For the most part, Jon did not pay too much attention to them till another arrived.
It was a young woman; Jon placed her in her mid to late twenties at most. She was dressed in a green and white dress which was both elaborate, while at the same time appearing to show as much skin as was acceptable. Her black hair was elaborately done up and encircled by several strings of pearls. Her mask was little more than a silver outline around her black eyes, which appeared strangely dilated. There was something almost predatory about her beauty and the way her eyes swept the room, putting Jon in mind of one of the shadow cats back home as it regarded potential prey.
Jon instantly disliked her.
There was something cruel about her. Perhaps it was the way that she was looking at everyone like she was evaluating those she was looking at, as if determining who would and would not be of use to her and discarding those who would not. Her eyes, at least to Jon, seemed slightly contemptuous. His mind went back to Winterfell when the King had visited. He remembered Cersei Lannister and how cruel she had been to the servants, but there was little time to think; the dancing resumed, and Jon put her from his mind and returned to the dancing. Sometime later, Jon danced with Ingfried when Herman appeared beside him, a woman on his arm.
"My good sir, keeping one partner to oneself the entire evening is considered rude." His intentions were clear; Jon looked to Ingfried, who smiled and nodded. The two men switched partners, and the dance continued.
As they danced, Jon was able to get a closer look at his new partner. Looking closer at her, he realized that she was one of the young women who had been accompanying the woman from earlier and who he had taken to be either ladies in waiting or companions. She was also younger than Jon had first believed, appearing to be about his own age with curly brown hair and eyes of similar colour. The eyes held a vibrancy and liveliness about them, which Jon found to be appealing, and her body, while slim, was still womanly and attractive. She wore a green and yellow dress, and her mask was shaped to look like a mass of flowers.
As the dances continued, she soon proved to be a skilled dancer, far better than him, but though she smiled at this, she said nothing as they spun about the dance floor. At last, the music reached a crescendo and then came to an end. This had happened before, breaks in the dancing to allow the dancers to take refreshments and rest in order to continue the dancing. Ingfried had told Jon that these events sometimes lasted until dawn. Jon took advantage of the break in the dancing to lead the young woman towards a servant while signalling for the man's attention. As they enjoyed their drinks, the woman said something which Jon could not understand but which he assumed was a comment on his dancing. Jon was shocked; it was not at her words, which he could not understand; instead, it was how she said it.
She had spoken with a Westerosi accent.
He thought he had misheard for a moment, but he was sure of it.
"Thank you, My Lady." He replied in Westerosi. Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth hung open slightly.
She grabbed his arm and hurried him from the dancefloor and towards one of the alcoves along the walls. As they went, several people gave them knowing smiles, but the two paid them no mind. Once they were out of the way and there was little chance that they could be overheard, the young woman turned to him.
"Who are you, and how did you get here?" She demanded. Her tone was demanding, but it was also eager and even somewhat hopeful. Jon could understand; he felt the same way.
"My name is Jon Snow." Her eyes narrowed.
"The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?"
"The very same. As to how I got here, I do not know. I was at Castle Black when I went to bed, and I was in this world when I awoke.
"Now, it is my turn. Who are you, and do you know how we came to be here?" She seemed to draw herself up a little taller at his words and replied in a dignified voice that bordered on regal.
"I am Margaery of House Tyrell, Queen Consort to King Tommen Baratheon the First of His Name and currently companion to Princess Lucrezzia Belladonna of Pavona." Jon was stunned and had to fight the urge to kneel, which he had been taught to do in the presence of his superiors since boyhood. Fortunately, she did not appear to notice as she continued to speak.
"As to how I came here, I must confess that I did not know how I came to be here anymore than you.
"I had been released into the custody of Lord Randyll Tarly to await my trial before the Faith, and I too retired to sleep, and when I awoke, I found myself in a hilly countryside." Jon had heard some rumours of the arrest of the Queen, but he had paid them little mind then and even less now as she continued speaking.
"At first, I thought I was dreaming until I was set upon by bandits," she shuddered at the memories.
"I thought I was doomed when men led by a knight came and drove them away. I could not understand their speech, and they could not understand me, but they seemed to be looking for me and brought me back to the city of Pavona and the Princess. Later I learned that she is a sorceress of great power, and whatever brought me here had alerted her, and she had sent men to investigate; they were the ones who found me and brought me to her.
"It was some time before we could effectively speak to each other," Margaery smiled a little; "Fortunately, I seem to have a talent for languages.
"Princess Belladonna at first wondered if I might be a threat, but I was able to convince her that I was not. Had I failed in that, I do not believe I would still be alive." She looked slightly uneasy and said in a small voice, "The Princess does not tolerate things she considers threats." She hastily continued.
"Once that was done, she graciously offered me the hospitality of her city and court. At first, I thought I was little more than a curiosity, but as time passed, she made me one of her companions and even sought my counsel. The lands here are as fractious as the Free Cities, and she has sometimes found it beneficial to have someone to consult who has no local or familial loyalties." Jon nodded as he digested this, and then something she said struck him.
"You said you did not know how you came here at first." He stated, placing emphasis on the last words."
"Yes, Once I had gained her trust, the Princess, too, became somewhat interested in how it occurred.
"One of her counsellors, an elderly man named Luigi of Organza, remembered a book which came by unknown means to the University of Pavona more than a century ago. Naturally, the scholars who maintain the University were reluctant to part with it, but the Princess can be most persuasive when she wishes to be."
"What does this book say?" Jon asked, becoming excited despite himself and hoping it was more helpful than the book he and Wiedenfeld had retrieved.
"Let me show you." She took him by the hand and led him from the hall.
She led him up several stairs, ignoring guards and servants they passed until they finally reached a set of double doors. Opening them, Margaery led him into a suite of rooms richly decorated with paintings, rugs and elaborately carved furniture. Paying all of these no mind, she led Jon to a bedroom and went to a small chest. Jon opened the trunk and saw that the inside was heavily padded with thick cushions. Lying in the middle of these was an ancient looking book bound in cracked leather. Very gently, Margaery took the book from the chest and placed it on a nearby table, where she lit several candles. Then, carefully, she opened the book and gestured for Jon to see the writing. He moved forward and began to read.
The writing was difficult to read. It had been written in the blocky manner of someone who had not received much education. Matters were not helped by the fact that the ink had faded with age. Nevertheless, by squinting his eyes, Jon could make enough of the words to understand what was being written. What was most interesting was the fact that it was written in Westerosi. Marvelling at this, Jon read the first line on the first page.
This is the record of Hagren Pyke, navigator of the Sun Chaser.