[Chapter Size: 3100 Words.]
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Thrid Person POV
Essos, 296 AC.
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The fleet tinued sailing for about a month, while news of the Arti fleet's sighting headi quickly spread over the weeks. No one kly their objectives, and then they vanished from the known world, geing many doubts among all who khem and were aware of their intended destination.
"You see... in the end, they fled..." said a fat man dressed in clothes meant for the heat, adorned with numerous jewelry all over his body, including ears full of gold earrings and gauges, his face pierced, and his body covered in tattoos.
This man spoke to his panion while they overlooked the city below them, atop the great pyramid of Meereen.
"That's true... for a moment, I thought we would have a war at ate..." his colleague replied.
"You speak as if you were afraid," the first man mocked.
"It's not like dealing with so many ships is a simple thing," the sed responded sharply.
"Even so, we still have ates to protect us..." the first man said.
"I hope you're right."
"You know I always am. It wasn't my idea to attack them; after all, we o get rid of them—they're dangerous to our ey... but it's a pity the attack failed in Vontis... maybe we'll have another ce," the first man stated.
The sed remained silent... but trusted him. The two, merely sve masters in one of the most trade-heavy cities in the world, pted the sight of the city below them as if they were kings.
In Asshai, the woman with differently colored eyes beh her mask was traveli. "I must go to Yi-Ti; I will find him there," she remarked as she moved eastward through that nd, advang toward the distant mountains, the only obstacle between the Shadownds and the nds of the samurai.
Meanwhile, the people of Vontis were taken aback by Azor Ahai's suddeure from the city, as the Red Priests remained reserved about the champion chosen by their god.
In Lys, the political climate was far from good as the fusion with the Artis gave way to a power struggle withiy. No one khe details, but one night, even as the city was restless from the threat of being attacked by a fleet that approached freely, armed flict broke out over several days. Amidst the fmes, oners and even prostitutes took up arms, despite Zahn Maerys's attempts to reverse the situation his son had created. Some isters were ied ihrowing him as the top mert, while others just wao ehe city's safety before a powerful group, eliminating all its adversaries, appeared in its waters and unleashed fire upon them.
In the end, the entire Maerys family was killed and impaled at the city gate, while their resources were divided among the other nobles.
While Lys was in chaos, Doran Martell was sitting in his chair, frowning deeply. His brother had just arrived in Dorne, and Doran wao ask him why he had returned without Nyra—or rather, Rhaenys Targaryen.
"There was no reason for me to take her away from there," Oberyn said in a casual tone as Dave him a stern look. His children were present, so he turo them. "Leave now, I o have a private moment with your uncle," he said, needing to have an unpleasant versation with his younger brother.
Ohey were alone, Doran immediately asked him, "Tell me what happened. Did you fail to reach her or simply leave her there?"
"I let her go after asking her directly, brother," Oberyn said. "She wants this. As much as I dislike them or that Arti, I still know that Rhaenys loves him," he added.
"Do you know what you're doing, Oberyn? This was our ce to rise again as a family, to fight for the Iron Throne or avenge what happeo Elia with the Artis... We had a great opportunity in our hands, and now we have nothi, all pns are destroyed!" Doran excimed, raising his voi anger.
"Even so, I will avenge Elia and Aegon… But I won't involve Rhaenys in this anymore. At the very least, let one of us live happily. Elia's daughter must have the life she seeks; she will also be a queen," Oberyn said, and Doran remained silent for a moment.
"I received a letter a few days ago; it says that the Artis bypassed Valyria and advaraight into the unknown world…" he mentioned finally, while Oberyn was surprised by this. Ign his brother, Doran remained frustrated, but what else could he do? He could only hope to gain something from this, given that Rhaenys would be one of the queens of Arti the future, even if she wouldn't be the main one, and that frustrated him. Other than that, there was nothio do; after all, he had lost the power he could have wielded over Jon with his biological son in his grasp. In the end, the two brothers tinued discussing a few more matters, particurly the whereabouts of the Targaryen siblings, sihey were also an option for them, especially with his children to marry one of them.
Elsewhere, Olenna saw the letter from Essarding the movements of the Artis and raised an eyebrow as her granddaughter approached the baly at that moment.
"Is something wrong, grandmother?" Margaery asked.
"Well, it seems that our fuests and current enemies are heading to unknown nds, and from what I see, they'll stay there for quite some time," Olenna ented calmly while sippiea.
"Indeed, grandmother…" Margaery murmured. "And what about the Northern troops? Will they tinue advang toward Jon Artica's kingdom?" she asked, curious.
"Certainly, but something strange is happening here. After all, it's quite possible that he khere were forces heading there, yet he didn't care and tinued his journey…" Olenna muttered, gng back at her granddaughter. "With that fidence, I only say that out of the sixteen thousand people who went there, from various houses of Westeros, all will be dead soon," she cluded, leaving her words hanging in the air. It wasn't a surprise to her that the troops stood no ce beyond the Wall.
Meanwhile, in Lannisport, Tywin sat beside his brother, Kevan, reading the newly arrived letters that spoke of movements heard from Essos. Tywin aying a hefty sum for information about this group that needed stant vigince.
"Do you think you could speak to him?" Kevan Lannister asked.
"I don't know; they are sailing in unknown waters. It will be difficult to hahis, and the situation is growing quite tense ieros…" Tywin responded in a somber tone.
"Yes… I don't think this is a wise long-term decision…" Kevan murmured.
"Indeed… I wonder what other clever ideas that cil might e up with…" Tywin said, dissatisfied.
The cil had reached the decision to send a letter to Balon Greyjoy, authorizing him to rebuild his entire fleet to fight the Artis. This decision thrilled the Kraken, and he began a massive shipbuilding effort while the king had lifted taxes to aid in c the costs, something that did not please Tywin.
Sitting in his chair, the old lion's instincts told him that a war was on the horizon in the ing years, and it would be far from pleasant, especially with some houses having gained so much power—it seemed like shooting oneself in the foot.
In King's Landing, a new cil meeting was beginning, once agaiering ois, as their departure from the known world had shocked everyohey were heading towards the unknown nds of the East. Once more, the cil attempted to find a solution, but nothing seemed resolvable, merely hoping food news from the troops that had crossed the Wall.
To the north, Ned received the letter with this information a few days ter, firming what he had already suspected. He had known after Jon passed the information to Lord Manderly in Braavos, before bringing Arya back.
He sighed and thought about the troops that had crossed the Wall over a month ago, advang north. He wondered what would happehey entered the Artis. He had been stern and inflexible with his friend, the king, stating that he would not send any Northerners on su expedition, preferring to remairal, even if it had been a demand from both Jon and Robert.
Ba Essos, a specific group was advang west, trying to reach Sver's Bay, while the owner of that caravan rode, dressed i attire. Despite this, his good mood was evident as he ughed and sipped on a chilled drink, refreshing his throat.
"This ice is so revolutionary... Even in a desert, I feel a pleasure I've never experienced before from drinking something cold. These Artis are really good at iing such things. It's impossible not to like it and not to spend mold on it!" he said, ughing, while he heard someone clig their tongue angrily beside him. He gnced down to his side but kept smiling.
"You really don't like those guys, do you, my precious sve?" he said, after having bought this man in the west and agreeing to take him to Sver's Bay to be sold.
"Don't speak that name, you bastard! I am the king of Westeros!" excimed the man with dirty, ptinum-blond hair, just before feeling a sh from a soldier watg over the sves from behind.
The caravan master ughed as he watched Viserys Targaryen fall to the ground, screaming in pain, his back arg from the whip's blow.
"Oh, great king of Westeros! But tell me, why is su important man like you so eagerly kissing the Dor at this very moment?" he ughed loudly. He found it all very amusing; despite being an angry man, he was having fun.
Viserys was frustrated, his face still covered in wounds, making him almost unreizable. He had discovered that he had beerayed by Illyrio, who hadn't said a word before putting him on a saddle and haviake him ter.
"I swear, once I have my army, I'll kill you, bastard!" Viserys muttered, spitting out sand and gring threateningly at the man as he got up, only to fall again after another blow.
"It seems the great dragon of Westeros has a fetish for kissing the Dor!" the man mocked, looking up as if he had just said the fuhing in the world.
"My lord, shouldn't we put him with the others?" asked the guard holding the whip, since Viserys showed no respect regardless of how many blows he received.
"No, no. Leave him where he is. He really eains me in this boredom," the man replied, smiling as he stretched and drank more.
"Alright…" the guard muttered, stepping away but keeping a stern eye on Viserys, ready to strike him when needed.
"My lord," anuard approached.
"What is it?" he asked, his demeanor turning serious this time as he saw the guard approag.
"We haven't received any more sightings from our scout to the north so far. The soldiers are getting a bit worried about it," the guard reported.
"The scout hasn't returned? Well, send another oo check," he ordered, while the guard went back tah the others.
The sver's gaze turned back to Viserys, who was standing up. "Well, in any case, we'll keep moving. Maybe by the end of this journey, I'll have you in my sve colle and not for sale, just to eain myself with your mood..." he said, while Viserys growled but said nothing more, as receiving more shes was far from pleasant.
However, after taking just a few steps forward, a sound began, small at first, but quickly growing thunderous from the desert horizon. Everyone looked in that dire, and the sver's eyes widened as he saw the entire horizon starting to fill with horses.
"Dothraki! We must flee!" a guard said immediately.
"Quick, quick! Let's get out of here!" the sver panicked and spurred his horse, striking the animal's back, leaving even his sves behind as he tried to escape.
Viserys was both fused and afraid as the Dothraki group approached, shouting in a strange war tone, like hyenas. He saw the men who had tortured and mocked him trying to flee, but it was useless. The Dothraki rode through them, killing them as they hunted eae dow, for some reason, Viserys and the other sves were left unharmed. He could only watch them all die in the distance, either by arrows or ons as the riders caught up to them. Some tried to surrender, but the Dothraki showed no mercy, sughtering them to the st man.
Viserys was deeply shocked when a Dothraki warrior approached him and the other sves, herding them into a er. The warrior seemed to be searg for something among the sves, and he looked at Viserys with a fierce gaze before saying something in a strange nguage, pointing at him and then pulling him by the hair and throwing him forward. Viserys stumbled, trying to stand up, as someoaller and more threatening than any other Dothraki approached with a serious expression. It was obvious that this was their leader.
The man began to speak ihraki tongue, which Viserys couldn't uand, until he looked at one of his panions.
This man cleared his throat and spoke in the on tongue. "You are standing before Khal Drogo, the 'Khal of Khals.' You are the man of the dragon lineage, yes?" he asked in a serious tone, while they were surrounded so that all the Dothraki there could hear.
"Yes, I am the king of Westeros!" Viserys still had enough energy to decre this, trying to demonstrate fidence despite his overwhelming fear.
The man transted for Khal Drogo, who then spoke a few more words, while the hed at such absurdity. Viserys saw the mockery but couldn't say anything in response.
The great leader, Khal Drogo, said a few more things, and his transtor tinued, "Khal Drogo wants to know why the promised wife of his, of the dragon lineage, is not with you or at the agreed location..." he stated.
Viserys raised an eyebrow, seeing an opportunity to take revenge on his enemies, and then said seriously, "It was the Artis. They took Daenerys Targaryen and are holding her as a prisoner!" he decred.
The information was transted, and Khal Drogo spoke again, while the transtor turned back to Viserys once more.
"Khal Drogo wants to know where to find these Artis," he said, as Viserys saw the Dothraki leader staring at him with intense eyes.
In the same Dor, further southwest he Free Cities, a rge military camp was set up in the ope, in an area desigo spot any enemy approag. The banners of the Golden pany fluttered in the wind ie afternoon.
"We'll face that small Khasar and collect the money," someone was saying inside one of the tents, where a rge meeting was taking pce about a mission they had been hired for—to eliminate a Khasar of a minor Khal who had raided many vilges in the region, angering some wealthy patrons. The leader of the Golden pany assing on some information to his subordinates.
"Alright, we'll do it, but I still have a question… I want to know why this kid has been attending the meetings tely," a merary said with a tone of dissatisfa, pointing at a young man with blue hair standing beside Griff, the treasurer of the Golden pany.
"He's in the meeting for reasons that will be disclosed iure; for now, just accept this fact," Harry Strid, the leader of the Golden pany, replied. Although his men disliked having a boy who always fought alongside them—despite his skill—he had not yet proven himself as a leader. However, there was a real reason for his prese the meeting. The men remained displeased, as it was tough to be in such a position, but they said nothing.
In any case, the meeting ended, and Harry returo Griff and the young Griff. "It seems a package has arrived, sent by the Magister of Pentos," he said.
The two left the tent and headed to Griff's tent, where several chests were stored. "What is this?" the young man asked, curious. He seemed to be about sixteen, but he was quite skilled and well-known in the merary camp, though not yet proven as one of the leaders.
"I don't know, it seems it was sent by Illyrio. Let's see what's inside," Griff replied, approag one of the chests and opening it. The boy was stu the tents ohe lid was lifted, w if he was dreaming.
"Is this for me?" he murmured, toug ihe chest with a hopeful tone.
Griff moved to another chest and, upon opening it, was even more stuhan with the first. "Hey, e here, quick!" he called immediately upon seeing what was ihe young man approached, curious, and was once again stuo see a Valyrian steel sword, adorned with jewels on the hilt.
"This is…" the young man murmured.
"Yes, it's Bckfyre. Somehow, Illyrio mao get his hands on it," Griff replied, equally astounded. He turo the young man. "Take it. It belongs to you. As the future king of Westeros, this is your sword, your birthright," he said as the young man approached and took the swazing at it in awe.
"Let's go outside," Griff requested, and the young man nodded as he exited the tent, raising the sword and examining how the bde reflected the sunlight. This caught the attention of many nearby, who observed the Bckfyre being lifted before all the meraries.
"Hail to the king of the seven kingdoms, Aegon Targaryen!" Griff procimed, drawing his own sword and bowing immediately in front of everyone, while the meraries stood in shock. Ihe tent, in the chest Griff had opened first but not yet explored, y three petrified dragon eggs.
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