Jon and his companions spend their days at the De Felice estate, while he and the rose of Highgarden grown close; but not all is as it seems for their are nefarious things about a chittering horde who seek calamity.
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For a moment, Jon stared at the page, unsure what to think. If an entire ship had gotten here, then it must be possible to get back. If this Hagren had written down how it had happened, he had hopefully written down their route or the course they had taken. If it were not that exact, then perhaps there was something here that Father Wiendenfeld could make use of in his research and combine it with whatever he had found from the book that they had recovered from Naubon. But, unfortunately, his mind was racing with the possibilities for the future, and he had to force himself back to the present. He turned back to Margaery, who was looking at him expectantly. Though he was embarrassed to do so, there was something he had to ask.
"Forgive me, the name Sun Chaser is somewhat familiar, but I do not remember all the details. Could you please enlighten me?" She nodded, seemingly pleased to be able to demonstrate her knowledge.
"The Sun Chaser was the ship of Lady Elissa Farman, who lived during the reign of the Old King. She wanted to sail west to see what lay beyond the sunset. She wanted it so badly that it was said that she stole dragon eggs from the Targaryens to finance her expedition. The Sun Chaser sailed with two other ships into the Sunset Sea, and there was no word for many long years. Then, three years later, one of the other ships, the Lady Meredith, captained by Sir Eustace Hightower, returned.
"They had been beset by storms that claimed the third ship, the Autumn Moon, but at last, they reached three islands where they made repairs and resupplied. It was there that Sir Hightower decided to turn back and, at last, made his way home. But, of Lady Farman and the Sun Chaser, nothing was ever found out. Years later, while on the second of his nine voyages, Sir Corlys Velaryon believed that he might have seen the remains of the ship, but he was never certain." She arched an elegant eyebrow and indicated the book.
"I believe that we may safely consider the possibility that he, in fact, did not find it." Jon could only nod, bidding her to continue.
"Does this say what happened to them?" An odd look came to her face.
"Not in so many words.
"Here." She moved to the book, coming uncomfortably close to Jon as she carefully moved the pages to about a third of the way through.
"Before this, he was merely speaking of the voyage and finding the islands. This is where he speaks of what happened after they left those islands and matters began to become…strange." His curiosity peaked; Jon began to read.
At times it was difficult to read as the pages were worn and stained, and in places, the words were too faded to read. Nevertheless, enough of the writing had survived that Jon's face turned white in horror as he read the no doubt last accounts of the old Pyke.
"Left the islands…days ago, winds good Lady Farman takes this as a good omen.
Winds still good, but fog seen ahead I suggested that we…down…Farman says to go on. Measure water and found it to still…deep. Still do not want to…in but no risk for now of running aground.
Entered fog and trouble began at once. Compass began spinning round and around. Spun…broke. Wind…strangely. Seems coming from…directions. The world seems to be shifting; I cannot tell what is up and down.
Fog ending. Praise be to the Drowned God!
Out of fog now and we can take our bearings. The crew is shaken up, but it appears that all are present and accounted for. The ship does not appear to have taken damage.
We are lost. No other way to say it. I do not recognize where we are, but I know we are not where we were before the air is strange and even the sea does not look right. I am of the Iron Islands and know the sea, but even the Greenlanders know that things are wrong.
Night has come and…worse. The stars are wrong! Familiar ones are gone and new ones…ones I…seen before, and gods save us…moon is in the sky. One that stares at us green and baleful. Even…Farman seems shaken….suggested that we turn back and try to sail through fog to get back to…before…fog is gone. Wherever we are we are stranded.
We are cursed; that is the only thing that can be the only explanation. The food is growing mouldy too fast to be natural. Water in barrels has gone oily and unfit…drink. Days since the fog and no sign of land. I do not know how, but I believe that we are sailing in cycles. Three of the crew missing search organized. Found them in the hold. Two of them were eating the third. One looked at me, and I fled. Said nothing to the others do not want to back down there. Madness claims the crew! Three of them have thrown themselves into the sea after staring at the green moon too long. More men have gone missing. The two cannibals came back on deck. Did not look like men anymore they were twisted and malformed. Attacked the rest of the crew and had to be cut down despite this more eaten bodies found!"
Jon was so riveted by the reading that he was startled when he found that the rest of the page and the one after the words were either too faded to read or the writing devolved into gibberish. Margaery seemed to sense his confusion and disappointment as she wordlessly turned the pages till the writing became legible again.
"dying…days no food, no water. Most of the crew is already dead at least….died for the bitch who has killed us all. Ran up and knifed her and then slit his own throat. More changed cannibals attacking the rest of the crew. Again, the writing became illegible; the writing devolving into frantic-looking scribblings. There was one final legible inscription.
The moon, the green moon, is talking to me. Telling me horrible things, I try, but I cannot get it out of my head; it is driving me mad. Can hear the cannibals clawing at the door. The sea, the sea will protect me. The Drowned God shall take me to his watery halls and free me of this hell. If anyone ever sees this, be warned. Stay away from the fog."
After that, there was no more writing. For a moment, Jon simply stared at the words, trying to process them. Then, at last, he looked over at Margaery. She looked back at him, a slightly queasy look on her face. Then, after a moment, she forced a slightly uneasy smile on her face.
"Well, all things considered, I believe that we should be grateful that our own journeys here were as uneventful as they were." Jon could only nod in agreement. He looked back at a journal, a thoughtful expression on his face as he reread the warning in Pyke's last entry.
"Has your research revealed anything about this fog that he talks about?"
"Unfortunately, no.
"At the Princess's command, the scholars searched the University library but found nothing. They even consulted with the priests of Mannan, but they knew nothing for certain.
"There are, of course, stories in which ships disappear under mysterious circumstances. But the; however, are not there always? Things happen, and stories grow up around them." Jon could not disagree with that statement. Obviously, some of the stories were true, and he suspected that here more were true than were not, but telling the difference, was the problem. Still, he would write to Father Wiendenfeld and tell him of what he had learned. Hopefully, it would prove to be of some use in the priest's research. Then, carefully closing the book, he rose to his feet. At once, Margaery was at his side and taking his arm.
"Come," she said; "The night is young, and I have had quite enough of mysteries and grim tales for one night. Let us go back to the dancing." Jon was not sure that he wanted to go back to dancing, but he agreed. There was nothing more that he could do at the moment, and he would gain nothing by pondering things to which he had no answer. So, he led her from the room and back towards the dancing. As they walked along, she looked about on either side of them, admiring the various paintings and sculptures which could be seen everywhere. Then, after a while, she spoke.
"While our coming here was not our choice, you have to admit that there is beauty to be found here. It could have been far worse." Jon nodded, though he reflected on all the things that had happened since coming to these lands. Some of them were far from pleasant. But, again, she seemed to sense what he was thinking.
"True, it is not the fairy world of stories told to children, but it is not all bad, and our own lands are far from being free of fear and unpleasantness."
"You sound as if you prefer this place to home." He told her. She gave a laugh which was half rueful and half something else.
"Well, I will not deny that I do not miss being charged with adultery nor having to speak with that hag of a Queen, but there is more to it." She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was solemn.
"Part of me does want to go home, but can we?" Before he could speak, she continued.
"You read the book; they could not go home the way that they had come. We do not even know what brought us here.
"While I would like to go home and wish to see my family again, we have to be realistic and admit that we may not be able to make it home. If that turns out to be so, if we are indeed trapped in this strange land, then all that we can do is make the best of it." She gave him a smile.
"And you do have to admit, we both could have done much worse than we have." She waved her free hand in an encompassing circle.
"I am companion to a princess of a city, and you appear to be moving in exalted circles yourself," Jon said nothing, being too deep in thought.
He knew that he had to return; he had a duty to the realm and his brothers in the Watch. But what if he did not? What was waiting for him at the Wall except for his duty? His family were either dead or scattered, and the place that had been his home was burned and in the hands of the ones who had betrayed them. He compared that to what he had here.
Here no one cared that he was a bastard; he was valued for his skills. True, he did not know how long that would last if he was not of much interest to them, but the fact remained that he was more accepted here than he had been back in Westeros. Unbidden the image of Ingfried and the memory of the kiss that they had shared. When he was young, he dreamed of being in love with a beautiful woman, and now it looked as if the dream could come true. Angrily he shook his head. He had a duty, and he would not break the oath that he had taken.
"Perhaps," he told her; "But, nevertheless, I have a duty to return." She looked at him for a moment.
"When you said that, you sounded like Lady Sansa." At her words, Jon silently cursed.
Of course, Queen Tyrell had been in King's Landing with his sister before she vanished, and she would have interacted with her. He found that he wanted very much to know all about her, the only of his siblings who were still alive as far as he knew. He especially hoped that Lady Margaery might understand what had happened to her after she fled the wedding where Joffrey had died. What Lady Margaery had said, however, piqued his interest.
"Forgive me, My Lady, but what did you mean when I said I sounded like my sister?" She was silent for a moment before answering.
"Your willingness to do the unpleasant, but necessary thing.
"The first time that I met her at King's Landing, my lady grandmother and I asked about my then-betrothed, King Joffrey. At first, your sister was reluctant to speak, but at last, she did and warned us that he was a monster, even though she was clearly afraid. Nor was that the only time that she warned me, even though if it had gotten back to the King, I do not think that she would enjoy what would happen to her.
"Just now, when you spoke of having to return home, when you clearly wish, at least in part, to remain here. You, like her, are doing what needs to be done, not what you want to do." This speech pleased Jon, as it connected him, however remotely, with his remaining sibling and his father. Before he could say anything, though, they returned to the dancefloor and waiting for them was Ingfried. She arched her eyebrow at them in a seemingly calm manner, but Jon could see the storm clouds in her eyes.
"I heard that you had found a most agreeable dancing partner." She said in a calm tone which was clearly forced. Jon was not sure what to say, but Margaery did. Stepping forward smoothly, she began to speak in a courtly manner.
"Lady Ingfried Mensing I presume. It is a pleasure to meet you. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Lady Margaery of House Tyrell of Highgarden, companion to Princess Lucrezzia Belladonna." At her words, Ingfried paused and looked at Jon, her eyes narrowing. She and Jon had often talked of Westeros, so she recognized the names and their significance.
"Yes," Jon replied to her unspoken question; "She is from there as well, though she has no more idea how she came to be here than I do."
"That is disappointing," Ingfried said. But, while her tone still held some hostility, it was clear that curiosity was also present. Jon quickly seized on this and suggested that they show her Pyke's journal, something to which Margaery readily agreed.
They took her back to the book while Margaery explained where it had come from, who Lady Farman had been and of her expedition. Once there, Jon sat at the table, Margaery on one side of him and Ingfried at the other, reading the book aloud to the young wizard. As he did so, her expression grew grave. Finally, when Jon concluded, she spoke.
"I confess, I have never read nor heard of such a phenomenon, though it is entirely possible that such things have happened. The book is clearly describing something magical in nature, though whether intended or not, I cannot say. I can say, however, that it would take a great amount of magic for such a thing to occur. Indeed, I do not believe any Imperial Wizard would be able to do so, at least not working alone. The great mage Teclis could do it, and perhaps the Slann of the Lizardmen, but more than that, I cannot say for certain." To Jon, it looked as if she wished to say more, but was unwilling to do so. Then, after a moment, she spoke again.
"I shall write to my master telling him what we have learned. I shall also inquire whether there are any divination spells that can be performed on the book itself to see if we can learn anything more from the book itself as to where it was before it came to the University and how it came to be there." After that, she fell silent, and she did not appear to have anything else to say. Then, after a moment of silence, Margaery spoke again.
"That is good counsel, and I shall ask the Princess if she can do so as well.
"In the meantime, as we can do nothing else for now, I propose we return to the party. I believe that dinner shall be served soon." At her words, Jon found that he was rather hungry, and the thought of a meal was rather appealing. Thus, after carefully closing the book, rose.
He paused for a moment, unsure of which of the ladies he should offer his arm to. Before he could decide what to do, Ingfried took his right arm, slightly firmer than was necessary. A moment later, Margaery was on his left side, taking his other arm. From the corner of his eye, Jon thought he saw Ingfried giving Margaery a venomous glare. Before anything unpleasant could occur, Jon led them from the room and back to the dancing. Soon after they arrived, the announcement for dinner was made. To his slight surprise, he found that he was invited to sit at the high table with their host, Alighiero De Felice, his son Francisco De Felice, who bore a close similarity to his father except that he was younger, shorter, less worn and somewhat fatter and his son's wife, Alexia De Felice and the child, whom Jon learned was named after his grandfather. Jon had never eaten at the high table before during a feast, even at home, lest important guests be insulted by the presence of a bastard at the high table. It was a strange feeling but one which he enjoyed. Even better was that he and his party was on one side of the presiding family, and Princess Belladonna and her party were on the other, and there was enough distance that any unpleasantness was doubtful.
The food was pleasant, though slightly spicy for his taste. He had always heard that Dornish food was spicy, which was why the women there were so wanton, and he wondered if the food there was like this. All the while, minstrels played, and singers sang. Jon could not understand the words, but he guessed that they were ballads like back home. For a moment, his mind was drawn to the last feast they had at Winterfell. Though there were many differences, the feast here made him think of it. He was sure his siblings would enjoy this, and he found a tear forming in his eye as a sense of longing threatened to overwhelm him. Fortunately, Herman, who sat next to him with Sumaira, chose that moment to speak to Jon, thankfully distracting him.
"Wonderful party, eh," he asked Jon.
"Indeed," Jon said, trying to quash the misery in his heart.
"It was also decent of De Felice to extend his hospitality to us."
"He has? Jon asked.
"Indeed, we shall be staring at his home for the duration of the negotiations. I understand that he is also extending his hospitality to the other dignitaries." At his words, Jon looked over at Princess Belladonna and Lady Tyrell and suppressed a shudder.
They spent a week at the De Felice house, a time that Jon found to be immensely dull. Herman and Alighiero De Felice were often gone to meet with the leaders of the city and dignitaries who had come to celebrate the birth of the younger Alighero. Privately Herman confided to Jon that one of the greatest difficulties was separating, in his words, "The important from those who only think themselves so." General Schwartz often accompanied Herman to these meetings to act as his adviser on the military aspects of the negotiations.
As the city and the various nobles provided soldiers to guard the meetings, Jon and the others were ordered to remain at the De Felice estate. Jon, who did not like long periods of inactivity, feared that he might become restless and irritable from boredom. Fortunately, he soon found ample activities to occupy his time. He often spared with Sir Lambert, Gudrin and some of the household guards. After all that he had been through he found the simple act of sparring to be both relaxing and enjoyable. However, he found himself wishing that all of what was going on was so pleasant.
He found himself spending a good deal of time with Margaery Tyrell. He supposed that it was only natural, with them being far from home and both finding it comforting to have someone from home to talk to. He was eager to hear all about his sister that she could tell. He was disappointed to learn that she did not know where Sansa had gone, but she was certain she had somehow escaped from King's Landing. Jon simply had to keep telling himself that she was safe somewhere. They also compared their experiences since coming to these strange lands. As they talked, she admitted that she had had an easier time than Jon. It seemed that the southern realms, not unlike in Westeros, were more peaceful than the northern realms, if only slightly. While there were still battles, these were primarily men versus men, not monsters. There was, however, Ingfried.
The young wizard had become…the only word to describe her was jealous. Whenever the two were together, Ingfried found an excuse to be there as well and was always as close to Jon as possible. Margaery seemed to be more amused by this than anything else, a fact which seemed to irritate Ingfried. Jon tried to explain to Ingfried that Margaery was married and would never be unfaithful. This too seemed to do nothing but upset her.
"Yes, she is married." She told him.
"Married to a child, one who is far away and will never know what she does or does not do and if you think she does not know that, then you know nothing, Jon Snow."
Nor was Herman of any help. Indeed, he seemed to find the whole matter to be. When told of the entire affair, he merely laughed. "I fear, my friend, that this is a battle that men cannot win. Therefore, I would advise a retreat."
Jon glanced at Herman confusedly. "I just do not understand what she is getting so upset about."
Herman had given him a look, as if Jon was some sort of halfwit. "My boy, this Lady Margaery Tyrell is beautiful and being shut up in the Colleges, I doubt that the Lady Mensing has had much experience with such matters and probably does not know how to deal with her feelings. So my advice is not to do anything to upset either of them and hope that everything calms down."
Jon was not sure that Herman's advice was good advice, but he could think of nothing else to do. Good or not, it might have worked. If not for Princess Belladonna. While the Princess was attending the negotiations, which took up much of the day, she returned to the De Felice estate at night.
When she did so, she at times would flirt with Jon at dinner or when they would come across each other. To his surprise, she did so in his native language, which Margaery had taught her. Though he never responded to her advances, she continued to do so. He had no idea why she was doing so, as far as he knew she had not even acknowledged him and he wished that she would stop as it seemed to make Ingfried even angrier than Margaery did, especially as the Princess never seemed to miss a chance to disparage the Mages Colleges, though she always coached them in subtlety. It was finally explained to him by Margaery several days later during one of the times that Ingfried had been called away.
"I fear it is partially my fault."
"I do not understand," Jon said.
"You have to understand that the Princess has a rather…" she paused; Jon guessed that she was attempting to say what she wanted to say in a way which would not be seen as insulting to the Princess.
"Cat-like sense of humour. She can become bored at times, and she finds the negotiations going on to be frustrating and boring. I told her of how Lady Mensing has been reacting to our spending time together, and she decided that it might be amusing too, as she put it; 'Stir the pot to watch it simmer' by irritating that, again as she says; 'That hairy savage from the North.' She paused and gave Jon a look which was a mixture of sympathy and apology.
"Please just be patient. These fancies of hers come and go. She will become bored and move on to some new form of amusement in time." This exchange clarified things for Jon, but it also made him dislike the Princess even more than he already did. Jon found far more pleasant company in Alighiero De Felice, the Elder.
The man was a garrulous and talented storyteller. Indeed, he seemed to greatly miss his younger days and preferred them to the life of a merchant prince and city leader. Consequently, he needed little encouragement to talk about them. Indeed, he seemed thrilled to have people in his home who had never heard his stories. From the looks of his family and some of the others from the household, Jon guessed that they had heard the stories many times before and that the patriarch of the house sometimes chose a good story over a factual one, and, indeed, the stories were somewhat fantastic and formulaic. They all seemed to begin with the De Felice as a young man in the company of his friends in a tavern, gambling hall or house of ill-repute. Then, there would be a series of poor decisions which would result in him being involved in some assignation with the wife, daughter, sister, mistress or possibly all of them at once of one of the powerful men of the city and him having to flee until the anger died down and the scandal was forgotten. Finally, he would have some incredible adventures involving great hardship, but they would always end with him returning home with great wealth.
He fought in all the most famous sellsword companies, known locally as dogs of war, all over Tilea and Estalia. He had faced all manner of foes, from savage Orcs to Bretonnian knights and more and had beaten them all. He had even formed his own company until he became bored and handed it over to his lieutenant to return home. Even more exciting, however, had been his travels beyond those lands.
He told of the time he and a hand-picked band of men had slipped into the harbour of the pirate principality of Sartosa and burned many of the pirates' ships at anchor before they could raid Tilea.
He had travelled to the land of Araby and had saved the life of a merchant from a dozen assassins in the city of Al-Haikk, the City of Thieves, when the man refused to pay tribute to the Thieves Guild. De Felice had bested them all and become a champion fighter in the city until he had to flee the city after sneaking into the sultan's harem to see for himself if the ladies there were indeed as beautiful as all said they were.
His company had once been hired to defend a town from the deprivations of the Norscans and had faced a raiding force. Though outnumbered a least seven to one, he had rallied both his men and the villagers and had beaten off the raiders in a battle which had lasted from sunrise to sunset. He had himself slain the chieftain who led the raiders in a duel which had lasted the better part of an hour. Songs, he claimed, were still sung there of the deed.
He had travelled into the great desert and seen at a distance the great tomb-cities of the Land of the Dead and the pyramids, which were said to house both great treasure and undead which guarded them.
He had befriended a Dwarf who belonged to the Slayer Cult and had sworn a vow of brotherhood with him. They had travelled together, and De Felice had fought side-by-side with the Dwarf against a mighty hydra. The Dwarf had struck the killing blow but had died of his wounds. De Felice had returned his fallen comrade's hammer to his people and told them of his mighty death. This had earned him the title Dwarf Friend.
He had joined an expedition to the distant lands of Lustria, a land of unending jungles where the flora and fauna were as dangerous as any foe. There he and his fellows found the lizardmen who dwelt there and returned with so much gold that the ship threatened to sink under the weight of it all. That was, of course, after he had been captured by a tribe of vicious warrior women, and he had charmed them into not sacrificing him to their savage gods.
He had travelled for more than a year with a caravan bound for old Ind and Cathy, the sources of silks and spices. He spoke almost fondly of travelling across lands which burned a man during the day and froze him at night and practically laughed at the memory of eating soup consisting of horseflesh and shoe leather. Along the way, they faced Ogres, goblins, and other monsters. Nor had the adventures ended when they reached their destinations. He told of fighting tigers which walked like men, of meeting the immortal emperor of Cathay and a hundred other sights and wonders of those lands. Jon was unsure how much of De Felice's stories were true, but they were very entertaining. They reminded him of being back in Winterfell, listening to Old Nan's stories with the others. An added benefit was the fact that both Ingfried and Margaery also enjoyed the stories, and while the elder De Felice was speaking, there was peace between them, to Jon's relief.
A week after their arrival, Jon was informed that a grand ceremony was to take place. It seemed that a fortnight after his birth, the babe was to be formally christened into the cult of Myrmidia at the goddess's great temple in the city. Consequently, Jon and the other dignitaries were invited to the ceremony. To Jon's surprise, he was informed that it was expected to be armed at the ceremony. Back home, he had never heard of men bearing arms inside a sept, but he was informed that Myrmidia was a warrior goddess and being armed was a mark of respect to her. Thus, did he buckle on his sword and join the column and column it was.
Forgoing horses the De Felice family placed themselves at the head of their retainers, guards and guests and marched from their home. Through the streets of the city, they marched, all making way for them and crying out greetings and well wishes on them and the new child. Many of these joined the procession until Jon guessed there had to be more than a hundred. As they marched, Jon marvelled at the size and beauty of the city. Many of the public buildings they passed were made of marble and shone in the sun. He was sure that away from here, in the less reputable parts of the city, the sights were far less grand. However, on this happy occasion, the whole scene seemed fitting. At last, they reached their destination, the Great Temple of Myrmidia.
It was a colossal structure; though he had never seen it, Jon was sure it had to be as large as the Great Sept of Baelor. Made entirely of marble, it seemed to be a half temple and half fortress. Ranked facing each other on the steps leading up to the entrance were two ranks of knights clad in golden plate, each bearing a great shield that bore the heraldry of the sun. Their visors were up, and Jon was surprised to see several women among them. At the top of the steps was a large olive-skinned man. Unlike the knights, he wore chainmail instead of plate with a blue tabard bearing a red eagle and a white cloak held by a broach shaped as an eagles clutching talons. The party approached the man who smiled and bowed slightly as the elder De Felice reached. De Felice in turn returned the bow and smiled.
"Father." He said simply. To his shock, Jon realized the man must be a priest, though Jon could not think of anything less like a septon. At the elder De Felice's motion, his son and wife approached the priest and handed their child to him. The priest took the babe in his hands, which looked large enough to crush him as easily as if he were an egg. Finally, the priest turned and led them all into the temple's interior.
The inside was as impressive as the outside. It was decorated with numerous statues of the goddess, and the walls were covered with murals of her life as a mortal, an idea Jon still found as strange as when it was explained to him. The priest led them all until they reached an altar at the back of the temple. Behind the altar was a plinth upon which was a large stone broken in half, displaying its crystallized interior. Behind the stone was a large statue of the goddess similar to the ones which flanked the gates to the De Felice estate. The priest halted before the altar, facing the statue and raised the child above his head as he began to chant in a language which sounded archaic and Jon did not understand. The knights, who had marched in as well, had lined up on either side of the altar and periodically punctuated the priest's chanting by crashing their spears against their shields. As the ceremony continued, Jon noticed that the elder De Felice began to act strangely.
He seemed to lose interest in the ceremony and began to surreptitiously look about the hall. Jon noticed that others were doing so as well. Jon himself began to feel uneasy; he could not shake the feeling that someone was watching him and that they were not benevolent. Looking about, he saw several figures moving about the crowd, pushing their way towards the front. Jon did not know what was going on, but it seemed that De Felice had no such doubts.
"ASSASINS!" He cried out, ripping his sword from its sheath. After that, everything devolved into chaos.
Men shouted, women screamed, and while all were drawing their weapons, none seemed to know who was friend and who was foe. That there were foes was not in any doubt. Weapons flashed, blood flowed, and people died. People tried to get away but did not know which way to run. At last, however, as people bunched up or fled, Jon could finally see the attackers. They were clad as common people and did not appear to bear any sigil, but there was something…wrong with them. As Jon drew closer to them, he saw that they seemed to be unhealthily gaunt, and their eyes made them appear that they were either drunk or crazed. Regardless of this, they were all well-armed and attacked any and all near them with an unbridled frenzy. The De Felice guards had formed around the son and wife, their halberds pointing outward. The elder De Felice, on the other hand, was not prepared to wait.
As several foes rushed forward, the old man charged to meet them, a finely-wrought longsword in hand, even as Jon ran to his aid. The old man ducked under the wild swing of the first man and then skewered him as he rose. Whatever witchery possessed these men made them swift as vipers but uncoordinated. Nevertheless, they were still dangerous foes. One came at Jon from the side, too close for Jon to use his sword. Instead, he punched the man in the face. Despite breaking the man's nose, he did not even seem to notice and grabbed Jon's outstretched arm and tried to bite his hand. Jon tried to pull his hand back, but the man's grip was surprisingly strong. Just then, the head of a bolt burst from his throat, having been shot from behind in the neck. For a moment, Jon just stared in surprise. It was a crossbow bolt but was too small. The sounds of battle brought Jon back to the present, and he returned his attention to the battle. As there were no foes near him at the moment, he looked about to take in the battle.
While many of the people had fled, a number of people had been unable to get away, making it hard to tell who was who. The De Felice armsmen were still guarding the younger De Delice and his wife, and they were trying to move as a group to assist the elder De Felice. For a moment, Jon wondered why they were not moving to defend their child and then saw why. The priest was holding the babe against his chest with one hand while he held his sword in the other. The knights who had been participating in the ceremony had lowered their visors and had formed a ring of steel around the priest and the child. Jon doubted that any of the foes would be able to get through that defence. He then turned to the elder De Felice, and was impressed at what he saw.
The older man cut down two opponents as if they were standing still. His movements were hindered by age, but it was clear that he was a master swordsman. Jon could only imagine what he must have been like in his youth, when he had the strength and agility of a young man. Jon found himself thinking that perhaps all those stories had not been as exaggerated as he had first thought. He then saw Ingfried and all other thoughts were forced from his mind.
She had become separated from the others and had been set upon by three of their assailants. Fortunately, she had placed her back against a pillar protecting her back, at least for the moment. She wielded her sword in one hand and her staff in the other. Even as he ran to aid her, Jon wondered why she did not use her magic. Even as he thought it, the answer came to him. From what he had seen, all of her spells were highly destructive, capable of laying waste to whole groups of foes. Unfortunately, they were of little use here where she was as likely to kill friend and foe. Jon ran to her as quickly as he could, shoving people out of the way as he went. As he neared Ingfried and her attackers, she rammed her staff into the belly of the attackers nearest Jon, forcing him back towards him. Jon thrust his sword into the man's back. Already being forced back, the blow had even greater impact and went all the way through the man. As Jon struggled to free his weapon, one of the other men turned and rushed at him, a dagger in each hand. Before he could reach Jon, another of the small bolts took the man in the side of the neck. As he fell, Jon looked about, but could not see who his mysterious protector was. Nevertheless, it appeared that the battle was going their way. Though their attackers were numerous and fought with unnatural savagery, they appeared to be nothing more than brigands and were no match for the heavily-armed warriors they were facing.
He was just turning to Ingfried to say as much to her when a fresh barrage of screaming reached him.
Turning in the direction of the sounds, he saw several people who had remained behind, as well as one of the De Felice guards, fall to the ground clutching at small pieces of metal which had sprouted in their throats. As they fell, a number of cloaked figures appeared. Due to their hoods, Jon could not see their faces. However, he could see that they all bore daggers and short curved swords in their hands, many of which emanated a greenish glow and what appeared to be small metal discs. Even as he watched, one of the figures closed with one of the guards.
The man thrust at the figure with his halberd, but the figure seemed to slide to the side with a slight movement which not only allowed the figure to dodge the attack, but also brought him next to the guard. Then, with astonishing speed, the figure slashed both of his weapons across the man's belly. Jon thought that the guard's armour would block the blades, but he was wrong. The blades cut through the armour as if it was no more than simple cloth. The man dropped his weapon and fell to the ground reaching as he fell. Once on the ground, he twitched for a moment and then was still.
With the man down, a gap was created, and the new assailants rushed to exploit it while the other guards rushed to fill the gap. At the same time, the elder De Felice, who Jon noted was beginning to slow, was trying to make his way back to his people. Jon looked, and Ingfried understood and nodded in agreement, and they began to make their way towards their hosts. As they did, a scream of terror drew Jon's attention.
A second group of assailants had emerged and were rushing towards Princess Belladonna and her party, which included Margaery Tyrell. Like the De Felice, the Princesses guards formed a wall of steel, hoping to delay the attackers, who were rushing towards them. As they charged, the attackers threw their metal discs, which, now that Jon could see them more clearly, looked as if they were actually three or four knife blades welded together. Despite their odd appearance, it was clear that they were deadly as four of the Princess's guards fell. Half a dozen of the attackers surged forward, making strange sounds of victory. Jon cursed and changed course to aid the Princess and the others, even though he was sure he would not make it in time. Before the attackers could reach them, the Princess stepped forward from among her cowering female companions.
Her face bore its usual look of superiority, but now it was mixed with disdain and contempt. Before the attackers could reach her, she shot her hand out and spat words that Jon could not understand. He might not have been able to understand her words, but he could clearly see the results. The shadows came alive.
They seemed to be drawn to her, pooling about her and, at a gesture from her, they broke into shards and flew towards the attackers. Four of them fell to the ground, little more than shredded meat. The remaining two gave high-pitched squeals of terror, turned and fled, her mocking laughter following after them. Even though he was becoming more used to the sight of magic, Jon was still slightly unnerved by what he had seen. He swiftly turned back and ran towards the De Felice family.
It seemed that there were more of the attackers, both more of the madmen and the robed attackers. One of the men rushed, screaming and frothing at the mouth, axe above his head, at Jon from the side. Jon braced himself and lowered himself at the waist. The man struck him and flipped over Jon to land on the floor. Although Jon could hear something breaking from the impact, the man tried to get back up. Before he could, Jon stabbed down into the man's throat. As he looked up, Jon found himself facing one of the hooded attackers, red eyes glaring at him from under its hood. Jon punched out at the figure, which dodged to the side. Its movement, however, caused its hood to fall back, allowing Jon to see what lay beneath.
It was a giant rat.
It was a rat approximately the size of a man, with man-like arms and legs. For a moment, Jon thought of Old Nan's story of the Rat Cook had come to life. It was clad in black leather armour and wielded two strange weapons. They each looked like two blades fixed to a handle. Of greater concern was the greenish glow. Jon remembered all too well what swords like that had done to the guard. But, unfortunately, Jon did not have time for more thought as the creature leapt at him.
It was surprisingly fast and dodged Jon's thrust and slash. It dropped low to the ground and scuttled about almost on all fours to the side to lunge at Jon from the side. Jon was forced to jump to the side, the creature hot on his heels. In desperation, Jon kicked out at the creature, who jumped back out of range. Before Jon could press the attack, the beast ran forward and took a running leap. It landed on Jon's shoulder, causing him to stagger. Fortunately, from its position, the rat-man could not stab Jon with its blades, but that was not its intention. It sprang from Jon's shoulder to land behind Jon. As it did so, its long, bald tail wrapped around Jon's neck and dragged him backwards. Already off-balanced from the creature landing on him, Jon lost his balance and fell to the floor.
Before he could get back up, the creature was on him. It straddled him, pinning both of Jon's arms as it raised its weapons to strike. As the blades came down, Ingfried was there behind it. Her sword was gone, but she swung her staff with all her strength. Her staff took the creature in the neck with such force that its whole body was knocked to the side, causing the blades to miss Jon and bury themselves in the floor from his position; Jon could hear the crack of the creature's neck and the way its head bent at an unnatural angle. Standing over him, Ingfried extended her hand to Jon and helped him back to his feet.
"Are you alright?" She asked, concern in her voice, as Jon rubbed his neck.
"I am, thanks to you." He told her. She smiled at him and then aimed a disgusted look at the body.
"Skaven." She spat, her voice full of disgust. Unfortunately, Jon did not have time to ask her about the creatures as the battle around them was still going on.
All around them, desperate bands of humans fought against the creatures Ingfried called Skaven and their human servants, and Jon was not sure who was winning. In places, the humans were holding, and the Skaven were falling back. While their human allies fought like mindless beasts, the Skaven themselves seemed rather craven creatures and would run away if the resistance was too fierce. At least, Jon thought that they were retreating. As he again began to run towards the De Felice, he saw that many of the prominent citizens who had come to witness the ceremony were dead or dying, which seemed to be the objective of the creatures. It reminded him of when he had received word of the Red Wedding, and he roared in wrath and charged the foul ratmen. Fury lent him speed, and he closed with the Skaven and their allies. He came on one of the humans who was strangling a man and took his head off with a single stroke. One of the Skaven turned and bared its fangs at him. Jon, who was not intimidated, thrusts out at the creature. It clearly had not intended for him to attack and was too slow to get out of the way, and Jon's thrust took it through the throat.
Another Skaven jumped on Jon's back and looped a thin cord around his neck. As his breath was suddenly cut off, Jon dropped his sword and clawed at the rope, but it was too tight, and he could not pull it away from his throat. His lungs were starting to cry out for air, and blood was beginning to pound in his ears like war drums. He reached back in an effort to grab the Skaven and pull it off him, but it was hanging from the cord too far down for Jon to grasp, and all he got for his efforts were bitten fingers. Thrashing about as black spots appeared in his vision, Jon saw a pillar nearby. Mustering his strength, Jon rushed at the pillar with all the speed that he could muster. At the last moment, he turned, and the Skaven was crushed between Jon and the pillar. It made a choking sound as the air was knocked from its lungs, and its grip loosened. It fell to the ground, and Jon was able to pull the cord from his throat. For a moment, all that he could do was draw in deep lungsful of air. For a few moments, that was all that he could do.
At last, he had recovered enough to once again rejoin the melee. While many humans had fallen, there were also many Skaven corpses, and the rat-men appeared to be on the verge of running. The humans had sensed this as well, and a number of the human groups were coming together, forming a united front. Faced with this, the Skaven began to flee. Elated by the sight, Jon began to move towards the De Felice party, which had merged with Princess Belladonna, though his wounds made each step an agony. After a moment, Ingfried came up to him and embraced him. He turned to her and smiled.
"If this is what Herman thinks of as a peaceful winter in Tilea, I believe that we should reconsider who we take holiday advice from." She laughed, a laugh which was a mixture of humour and the post-battle release of tension which he had seen many times before amongst his brothers. He was about to ask her why she thought that the Skaven had attacked them. When she suddenly stiffened, and her head whipped from side to side, like a wolf who caught the scent of a rival, her eyes began to glow. Jon opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but then he saw what was wrong and that the battle was not over.
A bolt of green lightning shot from the shadows and struck a group of men, killing them instantly. After a moment, the source of the lightning revealed itself in the form of another Skaven, differentiated from its fellows by a small pair of curling horns. It chittered and spat at its fellows while it waved its clawed hands. The other Skaven shrieked at its words and actions, their eyes burning with a green light. Then, to Jon's horror, a veritable tide of the creatures poured out from the shadows, seemingly endless. Where before they had been seemingly cunning, if craven, now they were apparently as mindlessly savage as their human allies. However, there was an unexpected advantage. While their fear appeared to have been washed away, they also sacrificed their advantages of speed and agility and seemed to depend solely on their numeral advantage.
They crashed into the humans like waves striking stones. Jon frantically hacked and slashed at them as they attempted to swarm over him, Ingfried's back pressed against his own. While more numerous, the Skaven attacking them now appeared to be smaller and were definitely weaker. Thus, Jon found it possible, if difficult, to hold his own. He was also aided by the still unseen archer. Four of the Skaven attacking Jon were felled by bolts. From the angles of the bolts, Jon guessed that the archer, whoever they were, was moving about, and Jon did not have time to seek them. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the green light burning in their eyes vanished. For a moment, the Skaven seemed drained and looked about as if they were unaware as to where they were. Taking advantage of this, Jon lunged forward and cut down several. Unfortunately, this seemed to draw the Skaven's attention.
Rather than attack him again, they all screamed and, emitting a foul smell, they all turned and fled. Jon's blood burned hot, and he gave chase. In their terror, the Skaven were remarkably fast; nevertheless, Jon was able to overtake and cut down several of them. He might have continued on, but an all too human cry of despair drew his attention. He instantly saw the source of the cry, and his blood froze at the sight.
The priest was down, blood flowing from a wound, as were many of the knights who had been guarding him. The Skaven with the horns was running from the priest, the De Felice child clutched in its arms. Around it were other Skaven, all of which were larger than the others and clad in heavy armour. The De Felice party ran after the Skaven, the elder De Felice leading the charge. Two of the larger Skaven turned to face him, halberds in their hands. One thrust at him while the second tried to move to flank the old man. He did not give them the chance.
He paired the thrust of the first and then moved behind him with a speed which belied his age. He then placed a furious kick to its back, which propelled it into its fellow. Then, without giving them a second glance, he ran on, leaving the Skaven to be dealt with by those who followed behind him. This had not gone unnoticed by the horned Skaven. It paused in its flight and handed the babe to one of those around it, which scurried on. The horned one spat out words; at least, Jon assumed they were words and a second bolt of green lightning. Jon could only watch in horror as the twin of the earlier one shot towards the old man, unable to do anything but watch as the elder De Felice was burnt to ash by the creature's magic.
Except that he was not.
As the bolt reached him, the older man swung his blade at it. As they connected, blue runes on the blade blazed to life, and the lightning bolt dissolved. The Skaven squealed and turned to flee, but it had left it too late. De Felice was on it and took its head in a single swipe. As the blade touched the Skaven's flesh, the runes on the sword burned even brighter, and the Skaven was consumed by blue-white flames, and its charred corpse fell to the ground. Jon, who had jumped over the first two Skaven, pausing only long enough to kick one that looked like it might be getting up, was almost caught up with the older man as he continued on after his grandchild. Though they were now in a more shadowed part of the temple, Jon could make out a hole in the floor which appeared to have been where the Skaven entered from and were now attempting to make their escape from their pursuers. To his distress, Jon saw that the one carrying the child had already gone through the hole, though several Skaven still waited their turn.
As De Felice, Jon and the others drew close, two of the Skaven produced green globes and threw them at their pursuits. The spheres hit the floor, they shattered, and a green mist rose up. Though he did not know what the fog was, he was sure that whatever it was, it was not good. Behind him, Ingfried, who seemed to know what the mist was, cried out in fear.
"DON'T BREATHE IT!" She cried out. Throwing out her hand, she cried out a phrase, and a gust of wind flowed past Jon and De Felice towards the mist.
Jon thought that she meant to blow the mist away and, for a moment, feared that the mist, whatever it was, would harm the child, but he was mistaken. As the wind met the mist Ingfried said another phrase. As she spoke it, the wind began to spin around and around, drawing the mist into the funnel that it had formed. A final phrase sent it all up into the vaulted ceiling. De Felice had sprung forward as soon as the mist was gone, and Jon followed after him. As soon as the remaining Skaven saw them coming, one of them squealed, shot into the hole, and a stone appeared, sealing the entrance. The remaining Skaven panicked and clawed at the stone in an effort to get the stone out of the way. Before they could lift it, the humans were on them. Some tried to run, while others tried to fight; in the end, it did not matter; both groups broke.
No sooner were the Skaven dead than the older De Felice dropped his sword as he fell to his knees and tried to pry up the stone. However, though he clawed at the stone until his fingers bled, he could not move it. Two of the surviving knights took him by his shoulders and lifted him as gently as they could. De Felice struggled against them, cursing them in his native language. Then the priest, looking much worse for wear, came up and, without warning, struck De Felice with the back of his armoured gauntlet hard. It had the effect of temporarily stunning the older man, which Jon guessed had been the priest's intention. Before he could recover and begin speaking again, the priest began speaking in a kindly, but firm tone of voice.
Jon did not understand the words, but he could follow the gestures. When the priest pointed back to where the other humans were, Jon saw that the rest of the De Felice family had not escaped unharmed. Alexia clutched her husband, screaming in anguish, while Francisco also screamed and clutched at his left arm. A ragged gash was running down much of his left forearm, and, in addition to the blood, a green puss was running from the wound. The sight of this seemed to snap the elder De Felice. He snatched up his sword and started bellowing orders to all those around him.
The elder De Felice led them through the city, his son carried by several of the family guards while more cleared the path for them. Finally, they arrived at a temple of white stone where Jon saw a number of women dressed similarly to Carmilla. For a moment, Jon started but then told himself not to be foolish and followed the rest inside. De Felice was already bellowing at the women. In response to his cries, several women came up and began examining Francisco. Then, at a command from the oldest of the woman, the younger man was carried into a smaller room, which the rest were barred from. As soon as the door closed. Alexia slumped to the ground crying. The elder De Felice, on the other hand, was grimly determined. He paced back and forth for several minutes, deep in thought. Then, at last, he began to speak.
"I am going after them." Although, for a moment, the people did not seem to understand what he meant, when it sank in, they began trying to talk him out of it.
"Impossible!"
"You will never find them!"
"Even if you did, they would kill you!"
At last, the priest spoke. "Lord De Felice, I feel your pain. The child was in my charge, and I allowed this to happen, but the others are right; you will never find them.
"Also, though it pains me to say it, the child is likely dead already." At his words, Alexia's sobs grew in volume and intensity. De Felice; however, shook his head adamantly.
"No, I refuse to believe that.
"If they only wanted him dead, they would have killed him in the temple.
"No, he is not dead." The priest hesitated and then spoke again.
"Even if that is true, then you know that it is a trap. You know this, and you know of the foul creatures. An army could be slaughtered down there." Jon looked over at the guards, who clearly felt the same way and were less than eager to descend into the tunnels. He was not sure if De Felice saw that or not. Regardless, his stance was made clear by what he said next.
"Gods damn the danger! This is my grandson, and I will not abandon him! But, if need be, I will go alone!"
"Not alone." A voice said in the silence which followed the older man's pronouncement.
"I will go with you." To Jon's half surprise, the voice was his. The older man looked at him, gratitude in his eyes.
"Thank you, Jon Jäger." He drew himself up and spoke in a firm tone of voice.
"We leave at once."