The Loyalist
Eighth Moon, 256 AC
The journey both towards and through Myr had been a harsh one. Recent news had gotten out of the capturing of Tyrosh by the 'Band of Nine', sending the other remaining Free Cities into panic. Guards and watches were doubled, and anyone without proper identification was turned away from entering their borders.
They'd been forced to sell their Golden Company attire, for it drew all the wrong types of attention towards them. Just the short trip from Broken Lance to the southern Myrish border saw their group attacked by numerous bandits and outlaws hoping to gain notoriety from their peers.
They'd managed to come out relatively unscathed, with the only injury of note being towards Blondie, who'd gotten blindsided and stabbed in the back. Thankfully the man still lived, and his wound had avoided any infections. He'd be healthy before the year's end.
The weeks traveling together had strengthened the bond between Ser Bryce and his men, even more so than it had during their years in Broken Lance. The group of five— six if you count the young Blackfyre, had grown to resemble the closest thing to a family the aging knight had.
Young Aelyx still devoted himself to learning the blade, even more passionate than before. The boy was growing rapidly, and their experiences traveling were opening him up to the outside world. Prior to now the young boy had been very sheltered, not seeing much beyond that of the small village they called home.
Ser Bryce had done his best to kindle the young boy's heart. His quest for revenge served as good motivation, but he didn't want it to cloud the boy's mind. It'd been a different experience for the aging knight, one he wasn't quite used to even now.
He'd never been close to his father, nor did he have any children of his own, so the father-figure role that he was dutifully thrusted into had been a change of pace. It'd been easier when they were in Broken Lance, where he'd primarily teach the boy battle and leadership.
But now, he had to make sure his foster-son was shaped up to be a person worth following. Thankfully, the boy had taken the change in instruction well.
There were times where he'd grow bored, or ignore his subpar instructions as he taught the boy the few sums and letters he knew. Ser Bryce could tell the boy wanted to learn, though. He shared the same ambition of the Blackfyres before him.
After a moon and a half of traveling they finally made it to Myr. They'd had to pay a great price in tax to enter the state, but beyond that they thankfully saw little troubles. Like its sister cities, the city of Myr itself was a beautiful sight. It'd without a doubt earned its reputation as one of the greater Free Cities.
Luscious temples devoted to numerous gods were spread across the city. The ancient Valyrian dragonroad that the city was built upon still stood strong, painting a brilliant outline of stone. Carts and traders populated the streets, selling lush fruits, spices, wine, and beautiful carpenters and blankets alike.
The men and women wore colorful tapestries and were decorated in jewelry, adding on to the natural beauty they already possessed.
Ser Bryce had only been to the main city of Myr once, when he accompanied the late Daemon to retrieve his son. The Golden Company preferred to move through the countryside, where their great numbers were less of a hindrance for travel.
Experiencing the city for himself without the weight of the Company on his back was a feeling he'd never felt before. He now understood why his former captain frequented the city so much. If he'd been born here rather than in the warring Disputed Lands, he'd probably never have become a mercenary.
A slight look downwards saw that his ward was experiencing similar feelings, and he'd bet that his men behind him were the same. If they'd been in any other situation, it'd been the perfect place to settle down.
Alas, he had a duty to fulfill. He turned to the men immediately behind him, glancing between the two. Bucktooth wore the ugly grin that'd earned him his nickname, and Fisher stood starstruck at the towering buildings around them.
A harsh grunt caught both of the men's attention. "Look through bars and whorehouses for any words of the sword. We'll meet up at the inn we stopped by earlier at dusk." The men shared a look with each other before courteously nodding. They'd definitely spend a good deal of time adventuring, but the aging knight couldn't blame them.
Blondie was recovering in the inn he'd just mentioned, which left only Russ. The man received the same instructions as Bucktooth and Fisher, and was swiftly on his way.
"Are we going to explore the city?" Aelyx asked, glee evident in his voice. It was a smark difference from the determined demeanor he'd possessed through their journey. Despite the situation they were in, he was still a young boy— his ninth nameday only two moons prior.
"Yes, we can explore, Aelyx," he began, the young Blackfyre's face brightening as he spoke. "But, we cannot forget the reason we have traveled here. Let this serve as a lesson in multitasking; a king must know how to manage his time.
"Yes, Ser Bryce." the boy responded, casually dismissing the aging knight's attempt to instruct him. Ser Bryce let the young Blackfyre lead the way. They were both new to the city, so he thought it'd serve as a good lesson to let his ward navigate.
The two journeyed along the bustling streets, the summer sun glaring down upon them from its peak in the sky. Merchants called out to them, beckoning them back to their carts. Their appearance clearly signified that they were foreigners, and Ser Bryce knew the merchants would try to scam them for more coins.
After breaking away from the central market of merchants, they found themselves in a whoring district. Despite being just a little after noon, the women were out and about. They beckoned for anyone who looked like they carried coin, using their looks to lure the unsuspecting men inside.
Aelyx stopped at one of the whore's calls, looking back at her. Ser Bryce winced at the notion, hoping his ward hadn't been entrapped by the woman's looks.
The brown-haired woman who called out to the young Blackfyre approached them, her voluptuous figure barely covered by a long robe of silk. Aelyx scanned her body, pausing at her waist before returning to her face.
The woman reached out, caressing the young boy's hair before grabbing his chin, pushing his face upwards so that their eyes met. Ser Bryce moved slightly, positioning himself so that he could ready his sword at a moment's notice.
"This hair, those eyes," the woman began, her voice smooth and soft. She moved her hand from the young boy's chin, instead caressing along his cheek before stopping at his nose. "It can't be."
Ser Bryce's eyebrows furrowed. Was this woman insane?
Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes before she pulled the young Blackfyre into a strong hug. Ser Bryce moved to arm himself, but stopped when his ward returned the hug.
The woman spoke, her words covered in cries that made it hard to make out what she was saying. She pulled the young boy closer, whispering something in his ear. Aelyx's eyes shot forward and he broke the hug, staring directly into the crying woman's dark eyes.
The words that the boy spoke nearly made Ser Bryce gasp aloud. "You know my mother?" The boy asked, shock evident in his voice. His grip on the woman's shoulder tightened as he peered into her. She continued sobbing, but didn't break eye contact from the boy.
"Of course I know her, she was my sister!" The woman exclaimed, her cries growing in intensity. "Those bastards! They-they killed her and ran off with you! Mother grew sick in grief and took her own life. They ruined my family!"
"They? Who is 'they'?" Aelyx responded, his own voice growing in intensity. Grief and regret struck at Ser Bryce's heart from the boy's reply. He prayed the woman wouldn't reveal the truth behind his mother's murder, nor the fact that he'd been an accomplice in said act.
"Men of gold— the Golden Company, I think they're called," the woman pulled Aelyx into another strong hug, burying her tearfilled face into the young boy's shoulder. "I don't even know your name, but please don't leave me! I can't lose more family."
Aelyx's fist clenched behind the woman's back, his face sporting the same expression he wore whenever they were deep in training. "Aelyx, aunt," the young Blackfyre broke the woman's hug once more, letting her get a clear look at his determined face. "I cannot stay with you, not now at least, but I promise I will avenge my mother and my grandmother as well. Then I will return to you. I swear." The boy said, his resolve clear in his face. The aging knight didn't know what to make of the scene. If there was one thing the young Blackfyre got from his lessons, it was that family was the most important thing in the world.
After reluctantly leaving his ward's aunt behind, the two continued their trek through the seemingly eternal city of Myr. The streets stretched and turned well into the horizon, and men and women alike moved towards wherever their goal may be.
Even as the sun neared the end of its descent behind the horizon, the city streets were still filled with life. Whores were becoming more common, and the 'merchants' of late were geared towards more illegal products.
The young Blackfyre and the aging knight found themselves before the tallest building they'd seen yet. The crimson and burnt red pillars of the cathedral reached well into the sky, followed by the similarly red foundation of the building.
A burning heart was etched into the space above the entrance. Surrounding it were carvings of small suns, no doubt signaling who the great building was for. Men and women dressed in robes of red moved in and out of the temple, ignoring the two who'd been taking in the sight.
Myr's Red Temple of R'hllor. The religion was prominent in Essos so the aging knight had heard about it before, but like most aspects of the city, seeing it in person had been completely different than he'd expected.
Aelyx, who had been devoid of most religion at all until this point, was dumbfounded. He walked towards one of the twin heart statues lining the entrance and read the words etched into their base.
"R'hllor," he spoke, his words slow as he made out the text on the statue. "The Lord of Light," he continued, turning towards Ser Bryce in a quick motion. "Can we go inside?"
Ser Bryce wasn't a religious man himself, his kin had pretty much abandoned The Seven when they made their retreat west, and no other religions had struck with him throughout his life. It'd been the reason he hadn't taught the boy much of any gods, for he knew little more than his ward did.
If the boy wished to believe in R'hllor, then so be it. He just hoped he wouldn't become a religious fanatic. A small nod was all the boy needed before he found himself halfway through the temple's entrance, burning torches lining the walls of the building.
A great fire sat at the center of the spacious temple, men and women praying before it. Some offered items, only making the great flame increase in size. Although they spoke silently, the sounds of their many prayers echoed quietly through the building.
The two made their way to the flame, its heat dancing along their skin. Aelyx eyed the people nearby, taking a kneeling position similar to them. "Should we offer something?" He asked, his purple eyes shining upwards towards the knight.
"If you wish," he instructed. It was all the boy needed before he started frisking through his person. A small frown formed on his face when he found nothing of note, looking around at the praying people around them.
"Should I offer my blood?" He asked, looking towards an estranged woman who'd been doing the same towards their left. Ser Bryce quickly shot the idea down, causing the boy's frown to grow in size.
His eyebrows furrowed in thought before he pulled a small blade from his waist. Ser Bryce moved to disarm the young Blackfyre, but was surprised when he didn't make an attempt to harm himself.
The small blade made its way towards the end of his platinum blonde hair which had grown into a wavy mass that reached the boy's upper back. A swift movement saw a chuck of the near-white hair in the boy's grip, but had nicked the boy's finger as well. The platinum blonde hair sported small pics of red before disappearing in the flames shortly after.
The boy's frown threatened to reappear when nothing seemed to happen, ignoring the small smear of blood forming from his finger. He moved to wipe the crimson, but was interrupted by the shouts of those nearby. The flame grew in size as it had with the others' offerings, but that wasn't what had caused the state of shock.
The flame grew even greater, much more than a simple lock of hair should have added. The steady and controlled mass of orange grew wild, threatening to burn anything in its way. The growing mass danced with vigor, streams of smoke crushing against the temple's walls.
The dancing flames reflected in the boy's purple eyes, painting a scene he'd never forget. Ser Bryce shot forward, wrapping his arms fiercely around his ward. The boy didn't fight it, yet his eyes never moved from the flames consuming everything.
As it grew, it consumed, and thus grew even more. The shouts of shock and panic had been swiftly converted to those of pain and suffering. The torch lights lining the perimeter joined their giant father, growing in size as well.
The large hall that served as both an entrance and an exit seemed to shrink in size as the numerous men and women scrambled to escape the mass of death. They pushed and scratched and crawled, desperately fighting for their lives.
Weight pressed against the knight from all sides. Jewelry, nails, and everything else poked at him as he joined the sprawl of people. A rather harsh strike to his back saw his grip on the young Blackfyre falter, the Valyrian boy quickly lost in the sea of people.
Ser Bryce cursed to himself. He fought his hardest to fight the raging current, desperate to spot the boy's distinct features. He was only one man against tens, however, and it wasn't soon before he was practically swept from his feet, carried along by the moving people around him.
He shouted the boy's name, but it was quickly drowned in the similar shouts of those around him as well as the flame's visceral song. Waves of scalding black danced around him, burning his lungs and making it even harder to see.
The star decorated sky was finally in view, the moon just recently replacing the sun above the horizon. Finally the pressure surrounding him decreased as the men and women rushing out of the burning temple joined the spread out mass of onlookers.
Finally able to catch his breath and no longer drowned within the voices of others, the aging knight began his search for the young Blackfyre once more. It was hard to ignore the flames nearby, which had consumed a majority of the temple at this point, but Ser Bryce pushed through.
He scouted and scoured through the growing mass of people, cursing the onlookers for adding traffic to the area. His eyes constantly drifted to the now burning entrance, praying that his ward would emerge through the pillars of flame.
He'd be burnt and broken, but he'd be alive, and that was all the aging knight cared for. Yet as the moon continued its ascension in the sky and the onlookers went about their way, he still saw no signs of the Blackfyre.
Eventually, even the great flame had decided to end its rampage, the light it brought fading along with it. Ser Bryce's body ached in both pain and weariness, but he continued on. It wasn't long before he was met by a flank of guards with a heavily jeweled man flanking them.
"Halt and remove any weapons you may have!" One of the guards at the front spoke, his voice akin to screaming flames from before. "Through orders of Magister Maresso, you are now under arrest for the arson of the Red Temple of R'hllor!"
Ser Bryce didn't fight his arrest. His mind wasn't in the right place and his body screamed at him for rest. Even despite that, he found himself awake throughout the night, his mind focused on that of Aelyx.
He paced silently around his cell, his eyes closed but his mind active. Finally he slumped down one of the walls, its ice-cold exterior a stark contrast to the heat he'd felt earlier in the night. Tears began to form along his eyes, and it wasn't long before he had broken into sobs.
It wasn't for his arrest. No, his current predicament hadn't crossed his mind at all. As the tears streaked across his cheeks painting rivers along his face, only one thought crossed his mind.
Aelyx was dead.