Sergio Delinal's Golden Manse

Viserys, freshly returned, calls upon his old acquaintance. He is dressed like any bravo, in clothes that make the sun appear meek. His long hair is braided today, though lacks the Dothraki bells he often adorns. He admires the manse as he waits, deciding his new castle must look this tasteful.

Viserys bows that where his head dips low beneath his waist, honoring his social better, before snapping back up like some viper.

"Wine would be more fitting, but I fear for my digestion. I have just returned from a trip to Westeros and it appears waterdancing does not actually prepare you for being on water. Tea would be most gracious."

Viserys laughs. "But I shall not be in Braavos much longer. The Doomed have finally found a new home. Call upon me before the end of the year, and you will find me a different man, more concerned with the air than the sea." His tone took a quiet tone that was as much reverence as horror. "...have you seen them, My Lord?"

"Fate?" He shakes his head. "A dōm is not a fate, but a verdict. It is the will of Gods writ large across the flesh of mankind. Their judgment fell upon the Freehold in such a way that its survivors were branded along with their descendants. We call ourselves the Doomed because we have already been damned by the God of Death himself that created Braavos many years ago..." He cheers up. "But there is always salvation. Aegon finds himself in need of 2,000 trained swords. And you misunderstand me, I was referring to the Dracaryen... they were not as my grandfather described them."

He laughed and sipped his tea.. "He may have. Still, we are not lords yet. My family owes yours a great deal during our years in Braavos. We have had many clients, but few friends. I simply wanted to remind you I am in the debt of House Delinaal."

"A man hopes." He smiled and enjoyed his tea. "They have strange gods there, and I think I will need as many friends. The King needs seven of them, and in the north, they can't even be bothered to remember the names. I'd think Death is god enough for one lifetime." There was a certain restlessness to the sellsword. He had been trapped on a boat for a few weeks.

"You remind me of how I imagine Death, Sergio Delinaal. Death is eloquent but ruthless, attractive but harsh, gentle yet unyielding in its embrace." He laughs. "Though I doubt I will be served such fine tea in hell."

He shrugged and ran his finger around the rim of the cup. "I do not know if there is truly such a place, but I believe it is the only acceptable afterlife for a man who has committed my sins. It took only three Valyrians to turn Seven Kingdoms into Two. Thousands of men died in a day. Can you imagine what will happen when I introduce nearly a thousand Valyrians into Westeros overnight? The Doomed only has 200 trained officers, but how long will it take to train their siblings, their spouses, their children? I do this because I love my people, but I know full well what suffering I've inflicted on future generations. That is why I must believe Death is a saving grace."

He finishes his tea in one gulp. "I fear I have made a fool of myself. Your hospitality, as always, is exquisite, and it endears me to wrecklessness."

Viserys frowns, wondered if Sergio was baiting him. "A dragon did not choose to burn Harren and his sons alive. The Field of Fire was no accident. I do not know how many dragons there truly are, but I know Aegon isn't interested in Dothraki or Lysene mercenaries, he's looking for those with the Old Blood. My niece of six years holds more value than 20,000 swords if she can ride a dragon in ten years."

Viserys crossed his arms, and stared at the wall. He considered Sergio's words, Aegon's words, the oaths between men. He considered his father and grandfather, and his friends family still living. He considered the enlisted who depend on him for survival, and the officeer who might oneday replace him. He then turned to Sergio and bowed. "You are, of course, correct." He poured himself some more tea. "I should have asked for advice at the beginning, as you are far more versed in matters of this nature. If my brashness has not offended you too much, may I aske what you might you do in my current situation?"