The First
Disclaimer- Game of Thrones and Campione do not belong to me. I am just borrowing them. English is not my first or second language so please be gentle with me.
"Normal Talk"
'Thoughts/internal monologue'
"Telepathic conversation"
"Gods/Goddesses Talking"
"Shouting"
'Chant'
Enjoy
Sealord's Manse, Braavos (five days to the deadline)
"Why have we not dealt with the boy? Why are we even entertaining him?" asked one of the keyholders.
"Because we have already tangled with the boy, and simply ignoring him does not look profitable." Answered another.
The first speaker gave the second one a nasty look. "You know what I am speaking about, Entrio. We should have nipped the bud before the boy could have become a threat to us."
"The fact remains that we did not, and it nearly blew up in our faces. But it is still not too late, we can still contact the House of Black and White to put an end to it all." Answered another keyholder.
"Are you going to ignore the warning of the Black Pearl and the Sealord, Aenar?" Aenar merely scoffed at Bessaro's question.
"I am not going to ignore the warning of our beloved Black Pearl, but I am also not willing to ignore the insult of the foreign boy. If we do not deal with the boy now, the other daughters of Valyria will smell the weakness. Do I need to remind you of the true extent of that boy's crimes? The boy attacked..."
"-our sealord in broad daylight. Yes, we know Aenar; you would not let us forget the fact."
"And you still would not agree or make efforts to neutralize the boy. What does that tell you about you, Bessaro?"
"I do not let my emotions get the better of me. Better than Delvaro, who is hell bent on arresting the boy and dismissing the words of our Black Pearl. We all know the consequences of ignoring her words."
"Then we are going to ignore the blasphemy the boy has committed? Why not contact assassins to deal with the boy at the end of the week?"
"Aside from the fact that the assassins have failed before, the same reason that you do not kill an unruly horse, my lord. The boy is drunk off his power, but when he faces the true might of Braavos at the end of this week, he will have no choice but to submit to our will. What will this say about our great city? We took the greatest offense of Braavos and turned it into our greatest weapon. The boy is a weapon of great power, you have to admit it, my lord." Bessaro explained this to his fellow keyholders. While Entrio was content to let him handle the matter, Aenar was not willing to let the matter lie.
"You are pretty confident that you can handle the matter perfectly, Bessaro. Why are you certain that your champion can handle the boy when the whole city has failed to do so since the boy landed here?"
"One would be wrong to put all their hopes in one person. I have located the largest khalsaar within five days of our city, along with the mercenary company Brave Companions. Khal Moro was easy enough to convince with the promise of a worthy opponent and our promise to overlook their activities in some of the villages within our borders, particularly those close to Andolos." Bessaro disclosed.
"Why did we not hire the Golden Company?" Aenar asked.
"Because they were not willing to void their contract with Myr, the price did not matter. The Brave Companions make up for their small number with their skillset. Most of it will be for show, no one in their right mind will be able to maintain their composer in front of such a large number. The boy may even try to come to an agreement with us should he learn our plan."
"If it were a matter of skills, then our First Sword would have already dealt with the boy."
Bessaro gave Aenar an amused smile in response. "Our First Sword is known for his conventional skills, while the Brave Companions are known for their underhanded techniques. You know there is more to war than men merely poking each other. Let the boy enjoy his few days of freedom; after this week, Braavos will begin her reign as the undisputed ruler of Essos."
Before anyone could comment on Bessaro's plan, the sealord entered the meeting room. The three keyholders focused their eyes on him because, truth be told, this entire mess was centered on him. If it were anyone else, they would have already dealt with the responsible party. But in this case, the option was not viable.
"My Lords, I hope you all are doing well today." Ferrego greeted them.
"We are doing well considering the situation we have found ourselves in, my lord. Needless to say, the Ironbank is not pleased with current affairs." Deal with the situation or else... Ferrego merely nodded his head in defeat. While he would not dare to show his emotion on his face so readily, he was among the few people he could loosely call friends. That was one of the reasons he requested their presence in his mansion.
The other was that these three were old blood and thus had a great deal of influence, even amongst the other keyholders. He made his way to the table that held wine and poured himself a generous amount of it. He then proceeded to gulp it down in one go before refilling his glass for more, and only then did he pour his guests a cup as well.
The three keyholders looked at him in concern, mentally deciding who among them would ask the question. They noticed the discrepancies in his looks, and while many would ignore the subtle signs, they had known him for a long time. His top button was undone, and his cuffs were a mess, pointing towards his nervous habit of playing with his cuffs. Ultimately, Aenar decided that he had to be the one to break the silence.
"Is everything all right, Ferrego?"
Ferrego scoffed at the question. "My situation has turned into a shitstorm; pardon my language." Now this was concerning, they had never heard such explicit language from his mouth. It showed that the recent event had really affected him.
"You do not have to worry, my friend. Jon Snow will be on his knees in front of you after five days. The largest khalsaa, consisting of around seven thousand horseriders, is on its way to Braavos right now, along with three thousand cavalries of Brave Companions. Nobody in their right mind would dare face such an army. I am sure that Jon Snow will lose his will to fight. You will come out smelling like roses for granting Ironbank the opportunity to get their hands on Jon Snow." Ferrego started laughing weakly at Bessaro's words without ever turning to look at him, which slowly increased in volume. Bessaro was holding his stomach at the end of his laughter, his cup slipping from his hands.
He did not pay mind to the slipped cup, or to the wine that adored his clothes. Aenar called for servants immediately while bringing out his handkerchief to attempt to clean Ferrego's shirt. Ferrego merely waved his hands at him while waiting for the servants to clean up his mess.
The servants, as well as his three friends, were looking at him with concern when he could not control his chuckles. It was the laughter of a defeated man who was waiting for his doom. He was able to control his laughter by the time the servants cleaned up the mess. He promptly dismissed them to keep the discussion private.
"Our Black Pearl has shared some grave news as well, a truly bizarre request. Yesterday, she invited Jon Snow to visit her mansion in an attempt to talk him down. She told him about the might of our city and beseeched him that it would serve him better to take our hands in friendship rather than break said hand. Unfortunately, it backfired, and Jon Snow is now bent on conquering our city." The keyholders began shouting in protest.
"I am not done, my lords. The Black Pearl has asked me to tell you, Bessaro, to convince Khal Moro to expand his khalsaar as much as he can before he reaches us. She has also asked you to hire The Company of Cats as well since Brave Companions do not have the number and avoid The Company of Roses. Agree to all the demands presented by Khal Moro and offer a million gold coins to each Sellsword company, regardless of which one is able to bring the boy to his knees. But they will only get their reward when the boy is either on his knees or dead."
"We need an army of ten thousand to bring that slip of a boy down!?" Aenar exclaimed.
"Around fifteen thousand, my friend. If Khal Moro accepts our plan, then he will encounter two khalsaars on his way here, and absorbing them will raise his number to ten thousand.
"But I am digressing, my lords; we need an army of fifteen thousand to put on a show for the Ironbank that fighting against Jon Snow is pointless. It does not matter what we throw against him; he will stand victorious in the end. It is not the question of what we can do against the boy; the question is how big the show is going to be."
"Ironbank will not like this. We are already pushing the boundary by inviting the horsemen and brave companions. None of the companies that she listed are of good repute. The horsemen already demand too much. If we were to agree on all the terms presented by Khal Moro, then it would make many of our projects vulnerable. Many of our merchants will face difficulties in their deals if we allow horsemen more freedom than they already possess. Their terms are little more than demands for free reign within our borders.
"Even the amount that she is proposing to pay the mercenaries is too much for a single endeavour. We are looking at least five million gold coins, not to mention the question of our reputation among our investors by mingling with these mercenary companies. It would have been a different matter if we had contracted these companies for discreet services, but this situation is far too open!" Bessaro exclaimed. He tried to maintain his cool normally, but this situation was already getting out of hand! If other free cities learned about their dealings, Braavos would be hard-pressed to maintain many of her endeavours. But that was if they managed to convince other keyholders of this mad scheme.
"It will not matter at the end of the week. Bellegre has assured me that the agreement with the horselords will not matter since they will be decimated, and we will not lose anything substantial since no one will get the prize amount. But in any case, she has proposed to invest two and a half million gold coins in this endeavour. She had also assured me that other keyholders would soon agree to this plan when they heard Jon Snow's intentions.
"It needs to be big; it needs to be grand. If we want to spare Braavos from its destruction, then we need to drive the point home." Ferrego answered while taking a seat. He had drained his second cup. He wanted to refill his cup, but Entrio placed the wine jug far from his reach. He gave his friend a stink eye, but Entrio was not moved.
"If it needs to be grand, then why not hire the Rose Company? They have the number, and it will be cheaper to hire one company rather than three. They have the strength of twenty thousand at their side. They alone can fill the number of the other three companies." Aenar asked.
"Better yet, why not contact the house of Black and White? They call this city their home; surely they would be amendable. Now that we have a name, they could end the matter easily. A knife in the dark could be the answer." Entrio asked; he was the one who was most cautious of the four present. Most of his dealings were not known to the world, but they were no less vital for the betterment of Braavos. He was used to hiding his nature, but nobody in the room was fooled enough to not think that he was the most vicious one.
"I think you already know the answer to your question, Entrio. Did you not send poor Arrion to contact them despite the warning from Black Pearl? Though you are not alone, they have also rejected the proposal from Ironbank. I believe their answer was the same that Arrion was given." Bessaro answered.
"'One does interfere in the matter of gods.' They do not intend to take Jon Snow's name, no matter the price. As for the Rose Company, they are the decedents of the north and will outright decline any contract against their fellow northmen, much more for the son of the warden who dethroned the Tragaryens. In the worst case, they may decide to side with us and sabotage other companies." Aenar answered.
"Aenar answers truly; the company will decline the contract should they learn who it is against, Bellegre predicted. The matter is truly out of our hands, and the conclusion is forgone. The only thing we can do is ensure that Braavos comes out relatively unscathed and our stations remain unaffected."
"So, what are we doing? We are securing such a large amount of force for slaughter." Bessaro shouted.
"A sacrifice for a god."
"Worse, my friend. A Godslayer." Said Ferrego.
Beyond the Wall, Westeros
The man did not survive the process, but he was not surprised. Men were fragile, subservient to natural conditions, and perishable. The only admirable traits about them were their resilience and their ingenuity. They came to an unknown land and made it their home, driving the local residents to extinction. Where all else failed, they survived.
But that was failing too. He had thought it would be a lot easier, but so far, success has eluded him. With a final breath, the man became still, and he stopped himself from crushing his skull. The process was not meant for grown men, but the Queen's orders were absolute.
Whimpers drew his attention, and he was reminded that they had an abundant specimen; perhaps a younger specimen will do. He was patient.
The Free Folks watched in horror as the demon from the old stories motioned his companions to bring forth a teen this time. Mace Rider had warned them and asked them to join his tribe and seek shelter beyond the wall, but they had declined. Not wanting to leave their simpler way of life.
The demon stabbed the teenager's gut before stabbing his temple with his fingers. The demon has repeated this process with dozens of tribesmen whose corpses lie near them. All the able hunters were slaughtered, and only the old and weak were left.
The demon let out a noise that grated their ears, and they watched in horrid fascination as the teen let out a short gasp before falling silent. They did not know what these demons wanted with them, nor could they understand their high-pitched screams. But that did not matter.
Everyone knew that they would not survive another day of sunlight.
Black Pearl's Manse (Three Days to Deadline)
Jon has just retired to his chamber, provided by Bellegre, after watching the play organized specially for him. The story of the play was adopted from the constant wars and rampant slavery in Essos. The story depicted the story of a boy named Xolos, whose village was attacked by Dothraki. The boy's father and mother were slain by the looting horde, his sister was taken away to be a slave, and Xolos himself was left for dead in the burning town centre. The boy rose from death and tracked the slavers that had bought his sister. He became a pit fighter in Mereen to win his sister and escape to Braavos, where the boy became the first sword of Braavos and his sister married a wealthy merchant.
It was the same as before for the play that he watched yesterday: escaped slaves that found their way to Braavos for safe heaven. He suspected it was a way of portraying Braavos in a positive light. His constant companions were two of the ladies-in-waiting of Bellegre. They claimed to be former pleasure slaves who found their way to Braavos. He tried to be respectful to them, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with their constant flirting and lack of personal space. He was not sure what to do in those situations or where to look. They wore clothes that left little room for imagination. He always felt something weird rise in his stomach when confronted by them, and his male parts reared their heads at inappropriate times. He wondered if it was what the ladies of the Winterfell brothel said. They always invited him and even promised to provide the best night and warmth of his life.
He was not naïve and knew what happened behind the closed doors of the brothel. He just never understood their significance. But recently, that was not the case. Ever since his kiss with Pine and meeting with Bellegre, he has become increasingly aware of the allure of female form.
He had tried to deny that part of him, burying it underneath the veneer of knightly behavior, but it was proving difficult. They did not even leave him when he wanted to take a bath, in case he wanted their assistance. As much as he wanted to, he could not raise his ire on them. He had always respected the ladies, irrespective of their birth.
In any case, he never thought of continuing his family. As a bastard, he never wanted the life of a bastard for anyone else, and after the revelation of his lineage, he never had a moment to think about that particular topic.
Still, was it right for him to dare to think about the offer of sampling the services, so to speak? He was tempted, but he wanted to be a knight and did not think that knights should visit brothels. Pine had laughed at him for following the conventional rules of man that had no place in the real world.
Flashback
"I would like to see you carry out your perfect vision of knighthood. It will be good jest, if nothing else." Pine commented when he discussed what he wanted to do with his powers.
"It is not a jest." I will ride the seven kingdoms, fighting bandits and saving maidens, the same as Duncan the Tall." He said it with a pout.
"Those are mere stories, washed down to hide the most abhorrent acts performed by the knights. You will soon find that beneath the armor of a knight remains a man. A man is as flawed as the person next to him, some men tend to hide their tendencies better, but at the end of the day, they are mere men. Your rules of engagement may work in an ideal world, but our world is anything but that."
"Even if what you say is true, living a life without rules makes me no better than a wildling."
"I never said you have to live without rules, Jon. I just said that you will find the rules of society stifling." Pine said, mildly stroking the fire absentmindedly.
"You are talking in circles, Pine. How can I live if I reject the rules of society?" Pine seemed to be weighing her thoughts.
"You will sooner or later break the norm of your world; it is not the question of 'if' but 'when'. In the eyes of society, you are a bastard. Privileged one, but a bastard all the same.
"Your rights are what your lord father permits you. You are already rebelling against him. Sooner or later, you will reject his authority and rules." Pine explained.
"So, what should I do?"
"Make your own rules."
Flashback Ends
He did not know what she meant then and still did not. He felt that he needed to get out of the manse to clear his mind. When he declared that he would conquer Braavos, he thought that it would be a straight-forward thing.
He would give the Braavos time to prepare and show up to defeat their champion, or whatever preparations they had made. It was clear from the sealord's talk that Braavos would not back down quietly. But here he was, subtly manipulated into not destroying Braavos, which he had no plan on doing. He just needs Braavos to submit to him so he can use its resources to protect his siblings.
Had he known that he would be tangled in such a mess, he would have left the city and wandered until he found a guide. It was annoying, and there was nothing he could do about it. He really needed to think before acting.
On a positive note, Bellegre made sure to spend time with him. She made sure to counsel him through his aversion to killing. She made him understand that he was not in the wrong to slay the Ironborns because there was no doubt about the fate of smallfolk should he have hesitated. Through various talks, he was coming out of his hesitation about killing. He knew that he was going to kill sooner than he would have liked, but that did not mean he was going to feel guilty about it. Bellegre had made her see that there are some people who are better off dead. It was cruel, but such was their world. A knight who cannot kill will be a lousy protector, she stated.
He looked out of the window of his room and decided to jump on the tree that provided the shade for his room. He wondered what kind of tree it was and if it bore fruit, but he put it in the back of his mind as he devised his way out of the compound. For a manor of courtesans, it has a surprising number of guards, on par with the sealord's mansion. He had to remind himself that he wanted to leave the compound stealthily and not set an alarm. He was sure that, if he wanted to, he could stroll out of the mansion easily. The issue was the hanger-on's or guards that Bellegere would insist on accompanying him.
He had insisted on not being disturbed before the evening meal, so his caretakers would not immediately notice his disappearance. It will give him some uninterrupted time to wander.
As he made his way to the streets, he cursed himself for not getting a cloak. He was perhaps the most known individual in Braavos, and city watch will soon hound his steps. They had tried to storm the mansion to arrest him, but Bellegre has put a stop to it. He had heard from the maids that the Black Pearl was furious with the blatant attempt to enter her mansion, which was quite frowned upon. Even the keyholders had to inform them beforehand of any visit.
She had later informed him that she had managed to stop the keyholders from repeating the action and implored him to stay within the boundaries of her mansion for the rest of his time there. He was tempted to refuse the request but reminded himself that this lady was providing him food and shelter, and the least he could do was abide by her request, at face value at least.
Also, he did not want to disappoint her.
He had left the mansion last evening too. He was not one to be able to stay in one place for long; he liked his freedom. He decided to do so covertly so as to not disappoint the lady.
He liked walking down the streets of Braavos in the evening, away from the sweltering heat of the sun. In Winterfell, most people tend to not come out in the evening. But here in Braavos, it looked like the city became more alive at night. He was mindful to hide his wooden sword so as not to attract challengers. He began to wander the market with no destination in mind. He began to think about what he had to do and how he would have to go about it. There were many things that he had not had time to contemplate, like the deaths of relatives from his father's side of the family. His uncle and aunt were alive and were somewhere in Essos. Did he want to contact them? Would they want to meet with him? They shared blood, and Jon was not going to not meet them. That brought his attention to his mother and where she was buried. He had always wanted to meet his mother, not knowing that she was already buried in Winterfell. He would go back to meet her.
Before he knew it, he was standing near a deserted ally. After a moment or two, he tensed because he knew that something had changed about the air around him. Suddenly the air picked up, and Jon was blown away by a strong gust of wind. He righted himself midair and landed on his feet, a sword in his hand.
The wind had not abated and picked up speed; it looked like a storm. Suddenly, a giant silhouette filled the landscape. Jon looked up to see a giant bull glaring down on him with red eyes. It was large, larger than anything Jon had ever encountered, its skin was rusty red, and it had horns that seemed to pierce the sky. The bull let out a loud bellow, forcing Jon to cover his ears. The winds picked up even more speed, and Jon had to jump away when a house almost fell on top of him.
He looked around for the giant bull, but he was nowhere to be found. The wind slowly died down, and Jon was left standing in the midst of devastation. The street was torn down as far as he could see, and Jon could see the Isle of Gods in the distance. He searched for the bull in the vicinity, but he was nowhere to be found, nor was there any evidence pointing towards the fact that there was a large animal responsible for this. He decided to leave the area before someone discovered him and blamed him for the devastation that occurred. Also, he had to talk to Bellegere about the giant bull.
Unbeknownst to him, he had already caught the attention of a pair of eyes that were going about their business. It will not be long before the news reaches the Iron Bank, who will reassess their current stance on Jon Snow.
Lys (Night before the Challenge)
Prince Oberyn Martell was a free man. In fact, he considered himself to be the freest man of all. Being the second son had freed him from any expectations. He went where he pleased, fought who he pleased, and most of all, fucked who he pleased. Sure, his mother and later his brother attempted to curb his appetite, citing his station as the prince of Dorne. It was all a ploy to use him as a political tool, he knew that. That was why his sister was married to the royal family, all for political gain.
Well, he had promised himself that he was not going to be their pawn and live his life to the fullest. Though he contemplates that everyone has regrets and he has them too, the greatest of all was his inability to save his sister, and above that, his inability to get revenge on the responsible party.
That thought dimmed the smile on his face. Was he really a free man if he was not free to act on his impulse? His brother had begged him to exercise caution, for it was not the right time, and he could not bear to lose another sibling. He had promised to stay by his side at the moment but also warned him that should an opportunity present itself, he would take the chance regardless of the danger. His brother has relented, and in the meantime, Oberyn channelled his energy to boost his hedonistic lifestyle. He portrayed himself as someone who did not fear the consequence of his action, a wild horse.
It was in part to distance his family from his actions. He wanted to make sure that they were safe from repercussions. His brother did help the matter by having him on house arrest after every infraction.
But that did not matter, he only lived to fuck, fight, and take revenge. The last part was important. But he was willing to wait for the opportunity; after all, the best hunter was the one who would wait for their prey to lower their guard.
The Baratheon dynasty was new and thus had very limited control over the affairs and oaths of the great houses. The current king, Robert Baratheon, was perhaps one of the few people that Oberyn could enjoy company with.
Had things been different.
But the King's hold on the throne was tentative at best; the Greyjoy Rebellion showed that. He had wanted to strike the moment the realm's eyes were on the Ironborns. With the eyes of five kingdoms on the Iron-Islands, they could have easily fucked them from behind. It was the greatest opportunity.
He had wanted to strike, but his brother declined to call banners. He reasoned that while the whole attention of Westeros was concentrated on the Iron-borns, attacking at this time would also earn them the ire of the Five Kingdoms when the rebellion would be crushed, and there was no doubt that it would be crushed. It would not paint them in a good light.
He had scoffed at his brother for being so cautious. The army of Westros would find no way through the sands of Dorne, their bannermen would make sure of that. Elia was beloved in Dorne, and their bannermen would not shy away from battle.
His brother had then revealed his plan, and Oberyn was not sure he would be this disgusted with his brother. Despite all they had suffered, despite the fact that their sister, niece, and nephew were slaughtered, his brother was still obsessed with the Iron Throne. After that, their relationship became tense, not enough for anyone to notice, but his brother's words began to lose meaning to him.
His brother was rather sure that the hedonist king would weaken the kingdom, enough for them to stand against it in the future. In the meantime, they were to gather the loyalists for Targaryen restoration.
But then rose the bastard of the north.
The son of Baratheon's foster brother and the man who rode alongside him. The boy had gained notoriety overnight. He had done something that no one could ever imagine, slain a thousand Iron-borns in one night. The boy had changed the power balance since the fall of dragons.
An army killer.
And to think that the boy had done so before reaching double digits in age. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that the boy would play a decisive role in the future. His brother had tried to nip the problem in the bud, so to speak. He had tried to assassinate the boy. A foreign merchant, not necessarily of Dorne, in Wintertown selling exotic goods was no strange site. It had become quite a common site in the aftermath of the attack; many lords had sent spies in the guise of smallfolk to scout the boy. It was not hard for a food merchant to slip poison into the boy.
Alas, the plot failed. Their contact was quite insistent that they had fed various concoctions to the boy in the guise of food to major effect; the most they had done was give the boy a mild stomach ache. They had, of course, disposed of the assassins with their own concoction to hide their failed plot. Their plot had driven the point rather hard; Jon Snow was going to be a very important piece in the game not so far in the future.
He had wanted to go meet the boy. After all, he was born in Dorne. It could be the blood of Daynes that was responsible for the boy's martial prowess. Daynes had been rather quiet in regards to the boy. He was going to offer the boy to be his squire. The boy had power, and if he could influence the boy, then he would have a powerful ally against the Lannisters.
But his brother had forbidden him from doing that too. Instead, he had been tasked with talking with Daynes and finding out the truth about the parentage of the boy to leverage it for him in the future.
He was reluctant to follow the command, but his brother had threatened to cut his funds. While he had his own funds, it would be a hassle. On the positive side, it gave him the chance to stay away from his brother. He prayed to Mother Rhyone for some excitement and some bandits to quench his thirst.
The goddess had answered him favourably; instead of bandits, he had found some Lannister soldiers sneaking around Starfall. They were there for the same thing he was there for; the whole Westeros was looking for the truth about the boy's parentage.
It gave him the perfect opportunity to hunt some Lannisters. Of course, his brother disagreed with his course of action and had him imprisoned to appease the broken pride of the lion.
At that moment, Oberyn felt that he needed to get out of Dorne. His destination was the North, home of the enigma known as Jon Snow. But he knew that his brother would most assuredly guess his destination and would try to stop him. To counter this, he planned his journey in a roundabout way. He had already sent Ellaria to Norvos along with his children in the guise of his daughters spending some time with their aunt. He was going to meet them there.
It was easy to slip the guards and hitch a ride from a shop going to Essos. He had landed in Tyrosh and made his way to Lys to further muddy his trail. It also helped that Lys was famous for its debauchery.
It was his paradise; nothing was off limits here. The people of Lys had truly perfected the art of pleasure. The only fly in the ointment was that Ellaria was not there to enjoy it with him. It was regrettable, but he would make it up to her.
He was currently on the roof of the pleasure house he was currently staying in, enjoying the cool sea breeze. He was going to catch a ship the next morning to make his way to Volantis.
He was looking towards the docks when he noticed someone sitting on the opposite rooftop, looking at the full moon. His years of experience told him that it was a woman, a petite but muscular one. The woman turned her head to look at him, and he raised his hand in greeting. The woman raised an odd shaped object in her hand in greeting before bringing the object to her mouth. The object in question was shaped as if someone decided to stack two balls on top of each other with a gap to place the hand in between.
The woman took a gulp, and he realized that it was a bottle of some kind. "Is that wine you are drinking, my lady?" He shouted.
The woman gave a snort. "Nothing so weak, boyo. Too sweet for me. I am drinking Saki."
He dismissed the odd name the lady christened him with. Her accent sounded dornish. He did not know what sakI was, but he was always ready for new things. "Care to share a drink, my lady?"
The woman shrugged her shoulders and stood up. She took up a rod from where she was sitting and jumped. She jumped all the way from the other side of the roof of another building to the building he was standing on. It was an impressive sight, and he was speechless for quite a moment.
"How did you do that?" He asked. She must be one of the gymnasts in a circus, but he had never seen such a feat. He saw her face, and she was clearly not of these lands. Her eyes were slanted and her nose was a little flatter than what he noticed in people around here. Her eyes were deep amber, almost golden. Her hair was pulled into a bun with sticks sticking out of it. She had a muscular build. She wore black leggings and a short robe that crossed over her torso. Her one arm was bare, clearly muscular, while the other was covered in a sleeve that opened and widened at the end. It was a rather strange outfit.
Strange woman, strange outfit, and strange drink. He had seen such features in the merchants who claimed that they had hailed from Yi Ti.
"I am a hero, boyo. It is nothing compared to the things I am capable of. You wanted Saki? Be careful with it; it is an acquired taste, and for heaven's sake, do not drop the gourd." The woman offered the bottle to him. Oberyn gratefully took the strange bottle offered to him, holding it carefully. He pulled the cork to take a gulp and immediately coughed. It was certainly strong.
"This certainly has a strong taste. What is it that you called it? Taki?"
"It is Saki, boyo. Made of rice, it's hard to get into these parts, so be careful not to drop my gourd." Oberyn just nodded before taking another sip more carefully. On the second try, it was much more tasteful, spicy with a hint of sweetness. He jiggled the bottle to make sure it had enough for another gulp. Seeing this, the woman chuckled.
"Take your time, boy. There is enough in the gourd to knock out a dragon." That was a strange thing to say. But then he realized that he had not introduced himself.
"My apologies, my lady, for I have forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne, at your service." He gave her a bow and tried to take her hands to kiss. Tried, because it was difficult to move her hands. He was quite strong, as he had trained his entire life, but this woman was making it seem like he was trying to bend a boulder. It became apparent that this lady was quite peculiar. A strange gleam passed through her eyes and disappeared before he could identify it.
"You hail from Dorne; is that in Sunset Kingdom?" The woman asked excitedly. It looked like a coin was flipped, and where the woman looked nonchalant before, she became quite excited.
"Yes, I hail from the Seven Kingdoms. May I have the pleasure of knowing the name of my lady?" The woman excitedly nodded her head.
"My name is Seiten Taisei; I hail from the Azure Mountains. It was nice to meet you. Now, can you tell me of the current ongoings of the Sunset Kingdom, especially of the North?" She asked. He was quite puzzled when she asked about the North. It was the most boring part of Westeros. Nothing happened there except for the northernmost part, the Wall.
No, that was not right; it had become the most interesting part of Seven Kingdoms in recent years. Was it not the reason why he had decided to escape his house arrest?
"You want to know about the boy, Jon Snow." He commented. The woman just nodded excitedly.
"Why are you interested in his mystical sword? Did the Jade Emperor ask you to investigate him and invite him to the Yi Ti?" He inquired out of curiosity. The woman merely laughed.
"Nothing so benign, boyo. I have been waiting for that boy for a long time. That boy has a much larger role than playing fool for the boy's court."
"And what role is that, my lady?" he asked curiously.
"He is going to be the savior and the destroyer. He is the king and the slayer of gods. But most importantly, He is the end of my journey." Oberyn's head was spinning. What was this woman talking about? Sure, the boy was a powerful warrior, and there was no way to tell when the boy would peak. But he was still a bastard, and no one would declare for a bastard, the blackfyre rebellion was still fresh in the minds of many people. That was ignoring the fact that Eddard Stark would allow the boy to rebel against his friend. This notion was completely ridiculous.
But it was less ridiculous than the later part, Salyer of Gods. This was quite preposterous and quite heretical to the religious mind. This woman was not right in her head to talk such nonsense.
"I think you are mistaken, my lady. The boy is a bastard, and while I do not have any sort of problem with it, nobody in their right mind will crown a bastard. The history of Westeros had made them wary of bastards, and while I may agree that the boy is quite powerful with his mystical blade to be a savior or a destroyer; slaying gods is a bit farfetched; don't you think?"
The woman gave him an amused look, like she knew something that he did not. The look in her eyes reminded him of his mother when he proclaimed something that she knew was wrong.
"How did you think he earned his 'mystical blade'? You only see what you want to see, boyo. But that is not what you want to argue about. I can see in your eyes that you are quite set that I am a mad woman. I know things that no one knows and no one would believe, and you know something that I want to know. How about we exchange information?" She offered.
Oberyn was certain that the woman was mad but still decided to entertain her. He had nothing else to do, and he would never shy away from something new. On a side note, the woman was exotic, and he was open to sampling exotic goods. If he played his cards right, maybe he could invite her into his bed.
"Very well, my lady. But first, I must ask why you need the help of the boy. If you are a slave here, then I am sure I could come to an arrangement with your master. I do not see anything that marks you as a slave." He inquired.
"I am not a slave, not in the conventional sense. You can say I am trapped. Let's not talk about that. "At the very least, the boy can provide me with a challenge." The woman said she was holding her pole tightly. Oberyn smirked. The woman was beginning to become quite intriguing.
"I think there are more people who can provide you with a challenge. I myself am an accomplished fighter." The woman laughed loudly at that. It stroked Oberyn's ego when the woman made fun of his martial prowess. Seeing his expression, she quickly waved her hands. "I am not laughing at you, Boyo. You are not the first to challenge me, and you will not be the last. It all ends the same way, with you on your back."
"Why do you keep calling me that?" Oberyn asked.
"What?"
"That word, boyo. What does it mean?" Seiten smiled.
"It is a nickname for boys." She explained.
"I assure you, my lady. I am not a boy. In fact, I have daughters who are perhaps closer to your age."
"And I assure you, my lord. I was old before your ancestors even planned their first city." She said it with a teasing grin.
"You cannot expect me to believe such a thing, my lady. Nobody can live that long."
"I have, I was here when the Maiden-made-of-light was impregnated by the Lion-of-Night and birthed the first emperor. I was fighting during the Blood Betrayal. I was fighting with the Last Hero. I was there when the winter fell, and I was there when the Wall was built. I have seen the rise of the Valyrians and their destruction. I have been roaming these lands for thousands of years, and that is why I need Jon Snow. He is the next part of my quest. I have been alive on this world for far too long."
Oberyn was astonished by such a proclamation. Any normal person may have dismissed such claims, but he had seen shadowbinders of Asshai, priests of R'hllor, strange creatures of Sothoryos, and much more.
"Who are you?" he asked again. The woman straightened herself, and suddenly her presence became rather heavy.
"I am Saiten Taisei, of the Azure Mountains, the rebel, commander of the first army of men, defender of the last hold of men, and the sage of a forgotten era." The woman, Sainten Taisei, proclaimed, spinning her pole, which suspiciously grew in length. She struck the butt of the pole on the floor, cracking it a bit. She smiled with a full toothed grin, and he saw larger than normal incisors. Oberyn rubbed his eyes when he saw something move behind her; it looked like a tail. On closer inspection, it was indeed a tail.
He had heard tales of the Far East, where people wore monkey-tail hats in honor of a woman long forgotten by history. Those same tales talked about a woman with a monkey tail who fought with the last hero. Was this the same entity, because if that were to be true, then he had just stumbled upon a legend.
Oberyn was speechless for a moment; he had never thought he would have such an encounter. Was she similar to Jon Snow? His surprise gave way to excitement. Maybe it was a copious amount of alcohol that he had consumed, but he had always wanted to cross blades with Jon Snow since hearing about him. If this lady was similar to Snow, he could test his mettle against her.
"How about a spar? You proclaim yourself to be master and I am known for my deadly strikes. I have been named Viper for my quick strikes. I would like to test my mettle against you, if you do not mind. In return, I will answer all your questions to the fullest extent, and for those that I cannot answer, I will help you find the answers. What say you? Want to humor a fool?" Oberyn challenged. The woman looked at him amusedly, as if to assess him. After a moment, she nodded her head.
"Might as well. You are the first noble of the Sunset Kingdom that I have encountered, and you seem knowledgeable. Do you want to do this now or wait till the morning?"
"I am not a very patient person, and I have already booked a ship for tomorrow. If my lady is willing, I want to do this now." Taisei nodded at him and motioned for him to fetch his weapon. Oberyn asked a servant to fetch his spear from his room while they looked for a good spot to spar. The servant shortly returned with his spear. It was a work of art, the spear head had intricate designs. While it was beautiful to look at, it was also sturdy. The edge was sharp enough that a glancing blow was enough to cut.
Oberyn took the spear from the boy and gave it a twirl. Few people came out to see the spectacle. Taisei looked at him with amused eyes and planted her pole right into the ground.
"I will give you a free hit, boyo. Make it count." She said this while standing still. Oberyn also took a stance.
"Are you sure about fighting me bare-handed?" he asked with a cocky smile.
"Make me draw Nyoi Bo, and I will grant you one wish." Oberyn gave a challenging smile and dashed towards her. He thrust his spear, but the woman just moved her torso to the right in a statement of her flexibility, easily avoiding the thrust. Oberyn moved the spear sideways to catch her, but she just bent her torso forward.
He moved it downward, but she still managed to avoid the tip by moving her torso. He tried to strike at her legs, but she just jumped over them. He then tried multiple strikes, but she just moved her body around the spear to avoid strikes. He was hitting nothing but air, he felt like a novice, holding a spear for the first time. To the few observers, it looked like she was flowing around the strikes.
"Feeling tired yet?" she asked with a smile, avoiding yet another strike.
"I have enough stamina to outlast anyone in the bedroom." He joked, jumping back, creating a distance between them.
"Brag about your other skills when you have proved your martial skills to me, boyo."
"I will, as soon as you stop moving around." He said it with a smile, trying to hide his frustration. He had not been able to land any blows on her. It stung his pride when he was known as the fastest spearhand in all of Westeros.
"But I am still, I have not moved from my spot." She said it with a smirk, and Oberyn noticed that it was right. She was still on the spot where she had started. "But I see your point. Make it count." She stopped moving, and Oberyn capitalized on that. He brought down the butt of the spear on her torso blades and was stunned.
He had put in more than enough power to fold any normal person. He had to admit that he had put all of his frustration into that strike.
But all is for naught. His hands shook from the reverberation. It felt like he had hit a wall. Taisei stood still with an amused smirk on her face, and Oberyn wanted to wipe that out. Suddenly, her hand was on the spear.
"It's my turn now. I hope you are not a sore loser." Oberyn tried to pull the spear back, but it did not budge. He tried to put strength behind his pull, but before he could exert any real effort, the woman struck him with an open palm on the torso.
Oberyn flew back several yards and hit the walls of a nearby building. He let out an 'oomph'.
"Are you okay, boyo?" she asked.
As much as Oberyn wanted to answer, he was feeling every bit of pain; it felt as if he had broken something. He let out a pained groan.
"Get up, will ya? It was a light tap." She said, coming closer to him. She was lazily spinning his spear, and he feared she was going to use it against him. Oberyn took a moment to assess the damage before trying to stand. He was successful after few tries, having to take support from the wall. The pain was reduced to a dull throb but he was not sure if he was feeling alright or it was the effect of the dubious amount of alcohol that he had consumed. If it was later then he would feel the effects tomorrow.
"I think you underestimate your 'light tap', my lady. I do not think I will be fighting anytime soon." He said it with a pained voice. He was using his hand to support his back. She handed him back his spear, which he took to use as a crutch.
"It has been a long time since I have fought any normal people. I tried to hold back my strength, but I may have used a bit more strength than I intended. Still, nothing would not heal with a night's rest."
"It would be a spectacle to watch you at full strength, on the condition that I would not be on the other end." He said it gingerly.
"Then you would be unhappy to learn that you would be missing a spectacle tomorrow." She commented idly.
"I think I may be able to delay my departure to watch your fight." He spoke.
"Not me, Jon Snow. He is going to fight an opponent that will spread his tale far wider than his fight with the Iron-borns."
Oberyn was puzzled by her answer. "The Seven Kingdoms are in peace right now. Who is he going to fight? I do not think that anyone in their right mind is going to disturb that peace, not with the threat of Jon Snow."
"Who said that Jon Snow was in Westeros? He is in Essos right now, Braavos to be exact. He is going to conquer it tomorrow."
"Braavos?!" He asked with a surprise. Snow's ambition was far too great.
"Yes, he tangled with the sealord, and they thought he could be controlled. It bit them in the back. Jon Snow issued a challenge to them: Defeat him or bow before him." She looked up at the moon.
"The bankers had brought a sizable force against him, but it will all be for naught. By sundown tomorrow, Braavos will surrender to Jon Snow, and the so called bastard will be crowned as the King."
Braavos (Day of the Challenge)
Jon could not sleep the night before. He had not been able to sleep for the past three days. He had been feeling anticipation since his encounter with the giant bull. He had asked Bellegre about the incident, but she informed him that no one witnessed any giant bull or its bellowing. A freak storm had hit the town and destroyed most of it. What she did not say was that a few survivors had witnessed Jon and assumed that he was responsible for the freak storm. Jon had spent the better part of the days delving deeper into his power in an effort to understand them better, at the advice of Bellegre. She reasoned that there was always something to learn, as proved by the fact that he summoned his armor to fight the god in Bolton Land. He had also read all the religious texts available to deepen his understanding of Warrior.
He had also searched for any religious texts that talked about the red bull that had appeared. He found the book easily. Apparently, there was a religion based around a red bull. There was even a temple here in Braavos. While the identity of the mysterious bull was revealed, it was still not clear why the bull had refrained from attacking him directly or why it vanished so quickly after manifesting. It also begs the question of whether or not the bull will attack again.
The bankers were already wary of him and were getting uneasy with his continued presence in the city. Whatever hope they had of their victory was dashed by the blunt words of Bellegre. Nobody had dared to challenge them in recent history.
Today was the day that either the Iron Bank would get their coin's worth or their Black Pearl's prediction would come true. Considering the track record, the odds were in Bellegre's favor.
The whole city was gathered outside the walls of Braavos for the spectacle. A large army was assembled near the city. Tents were raised as far as the eyes could see. It was akin to fair if not for the undercurrent tension. The keyholders, influential merchants, and the Sealord were gathered in a pavilion, along with the commanders of the two mercenary companies and Khal Moro.
"The halls of Black Pearl's mansion were strangely packed with sentries. It might lead someone to think that someone must not want anything to happen to today's challenge." Vargo Hoat, the leader of the Brave Companions. He had tried to sabotage the boy the day before, maybe steal his sword if he got the chance. It was a smart thing to do, as even he had heard about the boy with a mystical sword. He would not have given the boy much attention. The stories of the boy were surely exaggerated, as were all the stories. Also was the fact that he was in Westros and thus not his problem. But he would not say no to the chance of getting his hands on the mystical blade he had heard so much about.
"Our Black Pearl has taken a shine to the boy and was adamant to prevent any foul play." Said one of the bankers.
"She is a courtesan, that much power is not suitable in those hands." Spat Bloodbeard, the captain of the company of cats.
"Ah, but you forget, my dear captains. Our Black Pearl has many admirers, most of whom would leave their spouse for her time in the evening with a smile on their faces." Bessaro said it with a fake smile.
"That is what happens when you let a woman take control. A woman is but a pair of tits with a hole to hold your cock into, a nice face if you are into that. Fuck her till her cunt becomes loose, and move onto the next one. Only you, Braavosi, would crown a whore." Vargo Hoat was not aware of the glares directed at him by the female keyholders. The man was as vile as he was a fool.
Khal Moro said something in dothraki, "Khal Moro asks if the boy will fight on horse like a real warrior or will he crawl on the ground like a worm?" the aid provided by Braavos translated.
"Jon Snow has not shown any inclination to ride a horse." Answered Aenar after taking a moment to think.
"There will not be any need for sellswords, for Khal Moro alone will break the boy." His aide again translated the horselord's words.
"That boy slaughtered one thousand Ironborns in one night, at the age of eight namedays, I must add. Among them was the infamous Euron Greyjoy. A feat that no one can boast about. Are you confidant that you alone will be able to bring the boy down?" Asked Bessaro.
"The boy does not even ride a horse. Khal Moro has the largest khalsaar in Essos. If he were to ride his whole khalsaar against a boy, then he would be laughed at in Vaes Dothrak. He will defeat the boy one on one, and it will make him the greatest Khal in the world." His aide translated again. Bloodbeard snorted at the declaration.
"Tell Khal Moro that if he thinks that he alone can defeat the boy who has slain a thousand warriors, then he is welcome to try. I think our contract ensures that all parties will be paid equally, irrespective of who brings the boy down. My warriors will be more than happy to sit out the fight."
Khal Moro took a threatening step towards him, but the captain was quick, and a dagger was pointed at Khal's throat.
"Only cowards speak of sharing loot without lifting Arakh." Spat Khal Moro in broken Bravosi.
"You are confused about being smart and being a coward." Bloodbeard said with a smirk. The sealord came in between them before the matter could escalate.
"Your enemy is not here, my good men. He is across the field. It would behove you not to underestimate the boy. Aside from eliminating Ironborns during the 'Breaking of Iron', this boy had already ended a great house in his homeland, House Bolton. They were known as the largest bannermen of his father for a reason."
Khal Moro grunted and backed away. "This Khal lay claim to the mystical blade of the boy. It will be melted to forge the greatest arakh of the known world."
"Keep on dreaming, horselord. That sword will be the greatest treasure of Brave Companions. With its help, we will become the greatest sellsword company." Before matter could escalate again, the sealord again intervened.
"The sword will belong to someone who can pry it from the boy's hands. You may deal with this however you want, but the boy must fall." With that, Ferrego left the captains of the two mercenary companies and the Khal alone. Knowing full well that they were doomed, mere sacrifice for the betterment of Braavos.
Jon was standing in his own pavilion on the opposite side of the sealord's. Bellegre was standing there beside him, counseling him.
"In front of you is an army of savage slavers, and the others are mercenary groups, my lord." She spoke. "One is Brave Companions, and the other is Company of Cats; both are infamous even among other mercenary groups. You would be doing the world a favor by getting them." She was drinking wine. Unlike the bankers, merchants, and sealord; she was entirely unconcerned with the result, as it was a forgone conclusion. She had spent the better part of the week getting to know the boy, and while he was a powerhouse comparable to the dragon lords in their prime, he was still just a boy. He was easily flustered by a bit of skin.
She had lost track of the number of times she had teased him; it was an enjoyable way to pass time. He had even summoned his famous sword to impress her. It was clear to her that while Jon Snow was impervious to threats, he could be directed by a softer hand. She had spent the better part of the week trying to place herself in a favourable light, and she was certain that she was somewhat successful.
"You want me to fight at my full strength?" He asked in a measured tone. It was the first time that he was going to demonstrate his power in such a setting, with people watching.
"There could not be any doubt about your victory. Better to decimate the army in front of you than to invite challenge in the future." She answered. Jon nodded solemnly at that. That was in line with what Pine had taught him, he had to break their spirit. He was not planning to hold back much. He had heard about the Dothraki and both of the sellsword companies, and they were not painted in a good way. So he was not going to hold back much. But first he was going to play with them, he had been confined within the mansion for the better part of the week with no one to properly spar against. Sure, there were guards, but Bellegre had requested that he not be too rough with the guards.
He questioned himself about what authority he was going to use, but he already knew deep down that he was going to use the Warrior's authority. He wanted to give a show but did not want to paint himself as bloodthirsty, and the Warrior's authority was better for the show.
He emptied his grape juice and waited for the signal for the challenge to start. At the end of the hour, the army began to assemble in front of him, and he knew that the time had come.
"Make sure that everyone except the ones that intend to face me stays off the field." Bellegre nodded at that and watched him leave with a smile.
He looked at the clear skies, it was just before noon, with the sun atop their heads and not a single cloud in sight. It was a good day. He stepped out of his pavilion and began to make his way towards the centre of the field. Three people were sitting upon their horses there, no doubt the two were captains of the Sellsword group, and the last one was a Khal. He covered the last bit of distance with a great leap. He dropped in front of his opponents, freighting the horses. While the others did not show much emotion in his entry, they were apprehensive.
One of the captains was a huge man with a great bush of a beard with fiery red whiskers and long braids. Another one was a tall and gaunt man. He had a long, ropey black goatee dangling from a pointed chin. The Khal was easily recognizable, bare chested and broad shouldered. He had a long braid, a testament to his success.
"You are not much to look at." Said the man with a ropey goatee.
"Looks can be deceiving." Jon answered.
"You are far from home, made a mess where your father cannot help you. Braavos has put a large reward on your head.
"But I am willing to give you a chance. Surrender now, and I will grant you a place as my second in command. Your tale is well known, even in Essos, of how you defeated a thousand Ironborns alone, painted the snow red with their blood. Join me, and you will be raised to heights no one has ever dreamed of. No city will close its gates for you, you will live like a king, stay in the best palaces, and drink the best wine. No woman denies you." Jon looked at the goatee man. The two men were also giving him a look.
"You are willing to break the contract." Jon asked with a level tone.
"You are a great asset, boy, I will be a fool not to take a chance." The man laughed.
"Then I must disappoint you, but I am willing to extend you the same offer, surrender." Jon said it indifferently.
The fiery haired man laughed loudly. "In front of you is an army of fifteen thousand, trained for war unlike those Ironborns, and fifteen times those numbers. You have to offer more than what Iron Bank is offering."
"I have no coins to pay, but I am willing to give you a chance to save your lives." Jon said confidently that it surprised his opponents. Only a fool can take the situation lightly. It was clear that Jon Snow was still drunk from his victory against the IronBorns. No matter what, they will educate the boy.
"Unless you can summon a Drago-" His words were cut by Khal Moro.
"This Khal will make you kneel, boy, before presenting your head to the Iron Bankers. When this khal defeats you, he will be recognized as the greatest khal of the world." Khal Moro delivered his threat before riding back to his khalsaar. It was clear that the talks were over.
The other captains nodded at each other before departing. "Good luck, boy. You will need it to stay alive." Said the red-bearded man without turning back.
There was no use for planning, they were simply going to overwhelm the boy. They will be throwing soldiers against the boy until he tires. They were not going to fight the boy themselves until that point, except for the Khal. The boy was powerful but was sure to have a limit. Once he hits that limit, he will surely be vulnerable.
Vargo met with his second-in-command and gave him a nod. His second-in-command raised his hands and signaled the archers. "Archers! Shoot at will!" The company of cats was following the same strategy. Khal Moro had predicted this and held his riders back. He wanted to see how the boy combated it.
Within moments, the sky was darkened with arrows. The people were watching the boy stand still in the field. Many wondered if he had accepted his fate. But suddenly the boy raised his hands, and something shined in his hands. After the light had died down, Jon Snow stood in the field with his infamous sword. Everyone was in awe while looking at the blade. Everyone had heard stories of the mystical blade, its description was known far and wide, but it did not hold the candle to the real thing.
Jon waited for the arrows to get closer before swinging his sword in a diagonal arc. The arrows were blown away by the gale of wind. Jon began running towards the assembled army.
Seeing this, Khal Moro kicked his horse forward to meet him head-on. The other captains began directing their soldiers to encircle the boy. They wanted to attack him from all directions, trying to find his blind spot. Khal Moro met Jon halfway and swung his arakh. Jon blocked it with his sword and pushed the Khal away.
Moro had used all his strength to remain on the horse, and it was a near thing. The strength of the kick was something he had expected, but not the extent of it. If he were to fall, then his khalsaar would abandon him. It was begrudging to admit that the captains were smart to not meet the boy head-on. He had to be smart about it. He quickly ordered his riders to bind the boy. But the boy was too fast and began jumping from one horse to another, kicking down their riders in the process. It was becoming chaotic, and the dothraki began to fall from their horses.
Moro was becoming more incensed by the moment when he saw a smile on the boy's face. The boy was merely playing with them, and it angered Moro. It was clear that the boy was not fighting with his full strength, and that was unacceptable to him.
The boy jumped again to create distance between them; he pointed the sword towards the sky and said something. The words were lost in the cacophony of battle. The boy swung his sword down, and his opponents did not even have a moment to brace themselves before they were blinded by a great torrent of fire spilled forth from the blade, incinerating anyone in the direct path of the fire.
When their vision cleared, a devastating sight greeted them. Silence enveloped the area as everyone witnessed the destruction caused by the attack. The landscape was drastically altered. A large trench had opened up on the direct path of Jon Snow's attack, with stones burning red from the great heat, It was wider than a horse could hope to jump across and was stretched farther than eyes could see; no one was brave enough to examine the depth. But it was nothing compared to the condition of the men who were caught in the attack.
The men caught in the direct path of the attack were obliterated, but the worst were the ones who were partially caught or barely escaped. Those who were partially caught would have been better off dead. They were burned so badly that there was no hope for them, limbs were missing, and even with medical help, there was no way they could survive the next hour. Those who were near the attack but escaped narrowly were also burned from the intense heat. Their skin melted, and many had their hands fused to their arakhs. Whatever metal they had on their body was melted and stuck to their body. Khal Moro was looking at his khalsaar in despair. His army was in disarray, horses were running around without their riders. His riders were wailing, looking at the boy in front of them in fear. He had one of the largest khalsaars in Essos. Larger than his father, from whom he had inherited the Khalsaar, and strived to make it larger. He and his friend, Drogo, had challenged each other to see who would gather the largest Khalsaar. Now, almost half of it was dead, and more were succumbing to the moment.
He had been taught that he would face defeat in battle, but that did not mean he was going to accept defeat. Even during the Battle of Qohor, where the khalsaar of twenty thousand was defeated by three thousand unsullied, the defeat was not so humiliating. The unsullied stopped their charge, but not without loss. They were outnumbered seven to one, and while the defeat was to be remembered, it paled in comparison to the one happening today.
The boy was outnumbered fifteen thousand to one, but he was not only unharmed, he was not even winded. Even his clothes were pristine, while his khalsaar was destroyed.
He could not accept it. HE WOULD NOT ACCEPT IT!
But the reality begged to differ.
The battlefield was filled with the wails of dying soldiers crying out for help, and the audience was suddenly aware of the calamity known as Jon Snow. Everyone was looking at him in horror. No one had expected this sort of power. Nobody thought that this sort of power could be wielded by anyone after the fall of the dragonlords. Jon Snow stood stoically on the battlefield, as if the deaths around him did not affect him.
Ferrego, with great effort, turned his head to look at Bellegre, who had joined him in his pavilion. In fact, all the bankers and merchants who were present there were looking at her. While everyone was horrified at the unexpected display, Bellegre stood there as if she were expecting something like this, and everyone wanted answers.
"Is this what you were warning us about, Bellegre? Is this... is this the true extent of the power of Jon Snow?" Ferrego asked with a horrified whisper. Bellegre laughed weakly at that.
"Not even close, my lord. This is but a glimpse of the power of Jon Snow. Even now, he is not fighting at his full strength. Could you imagine the true destruction that boy can cause? The calamity that we almost brought upon? Look upon the battlefield, my lords, this is not even close to the true destruction that Jon Snow can cause."
Everyone looked at the battlefield and saw the Company of Cats and Brave Companions trying to sneak behind the boy while he was focused on the dothraki horde. They had hoped that the boy might not be able to use the same attack again, or at least not for some time. But Jon Snow was sharp, and before they could close the gap, Jon swung his blade in their direction and dashed their hopes. They were met with the same fiery end as the dothraki.
No.
They were worse.
By a single swing, Jon Snow had ended almost all of the soldiers in the Company of Cats. Bloodbeard had escaped the assault only due to years of his experience and his sharp mind. He had gambled and lost the hand in the most humiliating manner. The scene in front of them would demoralize even the most hardened commanders. His captains were looking at him, waiting for the next command, but he could see in their eyes that they had no will to fight the demon. They were almost pleading with their eyes to retreat.
There was no hope for victory, and the only thing he could do was escape the slaughter with whatever commanders left alive, lest he join his army in the fiery hell. He nodded at his aide to sound for retreat. There was no coin to be won in the face of a certain defeat. They would have to build their strength, but it was much better than death.
The only reason the army had not already routed was because everyone was frozen in terror. It would not be long before the soldiers would abandon the field, not that he would blame them.
Soon enough, the horns of retreat were sounded, but not from the company of cats. It looked like the Brave Companions had come to the same conclusion. The soldiers did not wait for any further command before turning their tails, leaving behind their injured comrades. The whole field was in disarray, but Jon Snow looked at them impassively.
The battle was over, and everyone knew it. Even the most skeptical who had dismissed the so-called Breaking of Iron as nothing more than a story blown out of proportion were forced to rethink. While Jon was still standing in the field, everyone was waiting with baited breaths to see if he was merciful enough to not hunt down the fleeing soldiers.
It looked as if Snow would leave the soldiers, but someone grabbed their attention.
"Snow!" Shouted the enraged Khal. He was riding towards Jon with his arakh raised. While it was clear that it was a suicidal move, he seemed not to care. Seeing their Khal ride towards the boy, the bloodriders kicked their horses to join him. There was confusion on Jon's face, but he tightened his grip on his sword and prepared himself to face them. It was suicidal, but Moro was not going back to Vaes Dothrak, he was not going to cut his braid.
Suddenly, the winds picked up, and Jon's head snapped up. Angry red clouds were covering the skies that were clear moments ago. The sun was blotted out as if it had already set. Jon looked around for anything that might explain the situation. His sword pulsed in his hands, and Jon knew the storm was of divine nature.
The winds picked up speed, and people started screaming. Tents and pavilions were being torn apart. Objects began flying at terrifying speeds. People were running around screaming due to the unexpected storm. The sand was blowing in every direction, so the visibility was pretty low. It was complete chaos. Moro's charge was stopped when the horses began to run in the opposite direction.
Jon felt a sense of déjà vu. Something about the storm was familiar, but he could not understand what.
The heavens cried, and Jon saw a large body obscured by the thunder clouds.
Bellegre watched in silent horror. She had not foreseen this.
No, that was not right.
All her dreams told her that Braavos was going to be destroyed. She had incorrectly deduced that the beliefs of the old Braavos would die at the end of the week and a new Braavos would rise from its ashes. She never thought that Braavos was literally going to be destroyed.
She wanted to show Braavos the full power of Jon Snow, and she was going to get her wish. She could only watch as the titan revealed himself.
Braavos was going to witness the fight of a God and Godslayer.
To be continued
It would seem that I am always going to apologize for being late. This time I am going to blame Netmarble for releasing "Solo Leveling: Arise.".
On another note, the notification is not working, and I am not getting any alerts for PMs or reviews. So, I am going to respond to the reviews that went unanswered.
TiyanYi: Yeah, and it would clash with his personality. There are going to be insta killings later, though.
– Jon is not yet blood thirsty. I thought it was going to be a massive shift in his personality. Also, Lysa has a role to play, and I could not think of another character perfect for it.
Batros940- Jon is not conquering Braavos to rule. Bellegre made him realize that he could not protect his loved one from Essos, so he is going to force Ironbank to take the burden. He is definitely not going to stay there to rule it. He is going to be an absent king, and he will not go out of his way to conquer Essos. It will just happen, and it will be fun to write.
Catelyn is not going to be dimwitted here; why be a warden when he was already the king of Braavos.
Spelloyal: I wanted a way to alter Jon's personality without waiting for years. It is for character development.
prinzjay1998- Ned never revealed his parentage to Jon, not even when he was going to join Night's Watch. Also, while he was in black cells, he only thought of his children and not of Jon. Why? Did he fear that Jon was going to avenge his father and family? You have to admit that it was suspicious.
Also, Erica used this method to transfer knowledge to Goudo. Pine was not able to explain the way to her home verbally.
Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed. Your words are all the encouragement I need. I hope that you liked this chapter. Let me know how I did.
Hope to see you guys soon.
Bye.