The Battlements facing the Blackwater Bay

The seabreeze grew warmer. Orys was approaching along the edges of the wall. It could only be Orys, wearing that red robe.

"Is that you, Maelys?" Orys walked a little faster towards them. "When the guards stopped following me, I figured either Aegon or you had taken over. I figured it was you when I wasn't summoned to another nauseating coronation..." He glared at the Blackwater, as thought it had offended him. "Where the fuck is Maekar, anyway?"

He tapped his hand on the stone excitedly. "Dragons! So many at once geared for battle! For me, the best part of any war is just watching them." He grinned excitedly. "I imagine our fathers atop Balerion, driving the Black Dread to battle. I remember as they looked, astride destiny itself, looking down at us. I recall Maegor, the younger, landing right there..." He pointed at a certain spot in the yard. "And that was when we knew he would be king, no matter what old Aenys's children said." He sighed and sat down on the stone floor, relaxing as he envisioned the old king. "You look like him,you know. My father, that is. I don't think people would tell you, but few remember him as fondly as I do."

"Aye..." He removed his sandals and began rubbing his feet, which were black and sooty. "They called him Cruel, what he was, was harsh. A good leader must be harsh, you see. And a good king must possess the chin whiskers to match. He was most insistent on this point, I recall." He stroked his own beard. "Did he ever tell you this?"

"A king's face is his greatest weapon. It is his emblem and his shield. Any knight can wield a sword, but a king must wield knights. If a man has a wild beard, he is seen as a wild man. If a man grows his beard long and maintains it well, he is marked as wise and patient. Aegon and my father had short but well-trimmed beards. They were not boy kings like Maekar and this latest Aegon, They were methodical men, who viewed every morning as another step in an eternal endeavor. Good grooming is a sign of attention to detail, but a stark chin is a sign of naivety. He has not accepted his place in this world. Then there's Aenys, whose beard was absurdly well-preened. He was a weak king, but it was his beard that announced it. Any king who ficused so much on his beard was not fit to judge the lives of men." He replaced his sandals. "And that is why facial hair is so vital to matters of state."

"That is how favors usually start." He stood up and dusted off his robes.

Orys studied Maelys for a long time, before finally declaring. "I am the most powerful Grand Pyromance seen in several generations. I make Archmaester Selwyn's Chart of Unnaturally Occuring Elements my whore. Your son... will grow the finest moustache... this realm has never seen."

"I don't know why anyone joined Maekar, but please, enlighten me."

He produced a flagon and began drinking as Maelys spoke. When he was finished, Orys considered the older man's words before saying... "In Alchemy, we believe nothing is ever really wasted. Dead men feed the earth and the earth feeds us. And in the same sense, no chemical process is worthless. If you try to transmute lead into gold and you end up in with something else, then you've not really failed, you've discovered a new way to make something someone may oneday need. That's how we discovered wildfire. True, the alchemists involved all died horrible deaths, but still, they kept good notes. I don't know much about the game of thrones or wartime strategy or any of that trite business. But if there's one thing I know... there are no meaningless sacrifices. All sacrifice is meaningful to someone, somewhere. Your soldiers, your family, your people, your historians. Immortality is very real, but often it begins with death." He offered him the flagon. "Best wine in the city. If alchemy teaches you nothing else, it teaches you how to make some fine alcohol."