|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 22, 2014 20:06:43 GMT -5
A small ship attempts to approach Dragonstone by way of Braavos. Viserys stands on deck wearing bright attire that would make a Lannister seem discreet.
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 22, 2014 22:56:43 GMT -5
The ship is intercepted well before it reaches land. Its crew can see a formation of sleek warships in the near distance, with more sails on the horizon. Two break off to meet the ship, and once within shouting distance the mate aboard one of them cups his hands and shouts, "What is your business and your port of call?"
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 22, 2014 23:05:00 GMT -5
The Fair answers through two cupped hands. "I am Viserys Kymeryen of Braavos, and I hail for Dragonstone! I have two men-at-arms aboard, but we come with tidings of friendship for His Grace Aegon Targaryen, Second of his Name!" His Valyrian accent is very thick, and he pronounces the king's name differently than is done in Westeros. "We are not pirates or smugglers or the like, rest assured, yes?"
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 22, 2014 23:12:03 GMT -5
"You will follow us to shore!" The sailor called back, less of a request than a command. The ship set off, making for Dragonstone's coastline. The second ship fell in behind Kymeryen's vessel.
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 22, 2014 23:15:09 GMT -5
Viserys gestures to the captain, who follows suit. Viserys kills time by making sure his hair is braided with the correct number of bells. First impressions are everything, though he has heard Westeros is a dour land.
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 22, 2014 23:21:25 GMT -5
The three ships moor of the coast of a small fishing village overlooked by a stocky towerhouse, no doubt the demesne of some minor landed knight. One of the Dragonstone ships pulls up against Viserys' ship, and soon enough they are boarded and the search begins for contraband.
The mate who originally hailed the ship eyed Viserys' foreign looks warily. "We'll take you by the boat to shore and give you an escort to the keep," the man said. "You a Braavosi envoy then... Ser?" He added hesitantly, obviously not entirely sure what the appropriate mode of address should be.
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 22, 2014 23:32:45 GMT -5
"I do not think you would refer to me as Ser or Lord... I am.." He frowns, trying to think of the word. "...Captain-General. Yes, Captain-General of the Doomed, commander of two hundred...?" He asks one of his companions the correct word. "Two thousand men. I am also called the Fair, for my... good judgment." He scratches his neck, looking over him at Dragonstone. It is more intimidating than he expected.
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 22, 2014 23:56:27 GMT -5
"Welcome to Dragonstone, Captain-General," the sailor told him. A small party accompanied Viserys into the ship's boat. Once they reached the shore, the group obtained horses from a modest stables, then set out riding across the harsh and craggy terrain of the island. Dragons soared high above them as they rode, and inn time they came to the island's namesake castle. The old Valyrian keep loomed imposingly above them as they passed through the gates, and from there Viserys was escorted up to the king's solar.
King Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, turned out to be a youthful looking man lacking the classic Valyrian features that Viserys possessed. His clothes were fine enough for any king, but lacking in embellishment or ostentation. On his hip gleamed a deadly-looking axe of Valyrian steel, smokey and dark, and the king's shoulders were broad enough to suggest he was no stranger to using it.
"Sit, Captain-General," Aegon said without preamble. "Kymeryen... that is a Valyrian name, is it not?"
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 23, 2014 0:09:45 GMT -5
Viserys almost forgets his manners, still enraptured by the dragons flying through the window. He says a Valyrian word in awe, before remembering why he has come. He bows very low, arse in the air like a court minstrel. "Your Grace."
He takes a seat. "You are a correct, Your Grace. My ancestor Orys Kymeryen, like your own bloodline, was also fortunate to be outside the Freehold when the Doom came upon us." He makes a gesture of mourning. "He and several others thought to preserve our culture by uniting survivors under a common banner. Alas, we lacked your Aegon's dracaryen, and so..." He shrugs. "Valar dohaerys. There are still a few hundred of the pure race left, and we have a fierce army. This army, the Doomed, we wish to offer you." He placed his hands together in a Ghiscari slave gesure of submission. "...for a measure of generosity, Your Grace."
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 23, 2014 0:15:30 GMT -5
"You mean you are mercenaries seeking employment?" Aegon translated with significantly less pomp.
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 23, 2014 0:26:17 GMT -5
Without even breaking stride, "Ahhh, you cut through my intent like a hooked blade through an Unsullied. That is why you are a King and I am but a homeless sellsword. Still, I feel you may be... incognizant? Is this Westerosi word? Incognizant of our greater design. We are not so much mercenaries seeking employment, as a displaced people seeking a new home. Today, the Doomed are one of the largest and best-trained armies in Essos. Tomorrow, we could be House Kymeryen... humble servants to the Iron Throne." He bowed his head. "If this a function you deem necessary, Your Grace."
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 23, 2014 0:42:45 GMT -5
Aegon leaned backwards in his chair, studying this flamboyant mercenary captain. "I have heard of your company," Aegon acknowledged, not initially responding to Viserys' core question. "How many do the Doomed number these days?"
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 23, 2014 1:01:33 GMT -5
"We number 2,000 fighting men, Your Grace, with nearly 200 Valyrian officers. And we are not your peasants in leather, but trained warriors. We provide our own armor, our own equipment, and our own horses, though it must be said we are not really cavalry. A man who relies on a dumb animal will always be at a disadvantage when faced with an adversary who understands how to aim a spear or crossbow. Plus, horses cost a fortune to maintain. Only my Dothraki warriors hold on to their steeds." He gestured, palm up. "Only a fool would try to separate a horselord from his mount, but fortunately, they work cheap."
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 23, 2014 1:25:00 GMT -5
"Let us say that this fighting force is of value to me, and I find suitable lands as payment for your service. What then, Captain? Does the exile company settle down? Can your horselords trade swords for plows and live within my peace?" Aegon asked.
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 23, 2014 1:44:33 GMT -5
"Your grace, I know I must seem strange to you, and I will seem stranger to your Andals and First Men and Second Men, but I know my trade. You have Ironmen, yes? I have worked with them. You also have rebels and Rhoynar and assorted barbarians. What's more, you have these sparrows in the South flittering about like so many red priests around a fire. Your ancestors were not peaceful men, either. Every year in every city in every land, the powerful man finds new problems that cannot be sorted by plows." He leaned forward.
"I have also met many of your knights. Unlike them, we won't mock the Old Ways. We won't deride the perfect love between siblings, or profane the great wonders that keep Westeros in relative peace. We are Valyrians, and my men know what it is to starve. If you provide us a home, you and your children's children and your children's children's children will be more to us than conquerors. You will be fathers."
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 23, 2014 2:03:32 GMT -5
"I was a knight before I was a king, Captain-General, and when I bow my head it is to the Seven Gods of the Andals to which I pray. And yet my Queen is my sister and there is no one still among the living who can equal my skill on dragonback. We enter a new era, Viserys Kymeryen, one in which the old customs and the new might be made stronger by their proximity to each other." For the first time in the conversation, the king sounded genuinely engaged and passionate. "If you can abide by that, and you swear the oaths of fealty and service that all my lords must make, there may be a home for you in Westeros yet. But that home must be earned with steel."
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 23, 2014 2:12:37 GMT -5
"We will earn it with our lives, Your Grace." He stood and bowed in gratitude. "Still, we are sellswords, not mermaids. Transportation must be arranged for the Doomed if they are to make war upon your enemies here in Westeros, Your Grace."
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 23, 2014 2:24:30 GMT -5
Aegon nodded. "Where is your company located now?" He asked.
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 23, 2014 2:30:06 GMT -5
"Braavos, Your Grace."
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 23, 2014 10:50:22 GMT -5
"Does your company not have a treasury to cover travelling expenses?" Aegon asked. "I am sympathetic, Captain-General, but I have need of my ships near as much as I have need of fighting men."
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 23, 2014 15:17:34 GMT -5
"Traveling expenses, Your Grace? Such as comfortable boots?" Viserys smiled wryly. "It is a different thing to march from Pentos to Volantis. There are caravans for supplies, and we have good relations with many Khalasars. Still... it appears we need not concern ourselves with the expenses of a return trip. We will pay for the ships, Your Grace."
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 23, 2014 15:41:49 GMT -5
"Very good," Aegon approved. "Then I shall contract you and your Doomed, Captain-General, for a term of service to end upon my official coronation before my Lords Paramount. At that time I will bestow upon you the title of Lord and award your service with lands and a keep. You will swear your fealty to me at that time, and from there onwards you and your line shall have the same rights and duties that all of my lords are subject to." He gave Viserys a look to see if the man found the bargain acceptable.
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 23, 2014 15:59:33 GMT -5
He bows his head. "The Doomed are yours, Your Grace." He stood. "I must return to Braavos and begin booking ships. I will have the ships meet your emissary where you found us, so we might know where you would have us land upon arrival. Does this seem correct, Your Grace?"
|
|
Horas
Westeros
is Horas.
Posts: 1,146
|
Post by Horas on May 24, 2014 0:38:19 GMT -5
"Fly fast, Captain-General, lest you miss your opportunity for a homeland and glory," Aegon responded, somewhat distantly. "You may arrive here."
|
|
|
Post by Prince Orys Targaryen on May 24, 2014 0:46:27 GMT -5
Viserys bowed in that over arching manner again. "Glory is fleeting, Your Grace. Legacy, though..." He takes three steps backwards, still bowed, like a dancer before turning to leave.
|
|