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Raiden's Storm Chapter 90: Daylight Robbery
🕑 Added 2024-09-26 13:40:23 +0000 UTC[Dorian’s POV]
After many days at sea, Dorian walked onto the expansive port of Volantis. It always was the oldest and proudest of the nine Free Cities, the first colony of old Valyria, which many call the ‘First Daughter’. After the doom of Valyria, they had considered themselves its heir and rightful rulers of the world. At the height of their power, they had taken both Lys and Myr… but Tyrosh, they would not have. Braavos lent their ships, the Pentoshi joined Tyrosh, and the two conquered free cities rebelled. Even the Storm King found it fitting to join the fray, defeating a Volantene force that tried to retake Myr. When Aegon, before he was the conqueror, allied with Tyrosh and Pentos, it was as good as finished.
Only dragons could lay claim to the world, which was the lesson the First Daughter had learned, focusing on trading and expanding her wealth ever since.
Along the way to the ancient city of Volantis, Dorian bolstered his wealth by trading goods from Myr to Tyrosh and later Lys. Given his experience, he knew what would fetch the best profit. Finally, being on Volantis in the flesh, he admired the more ancient structures as he had done years before. His keen eye observed the vast hordes of slaves, which typically outnumbered freedmen five to one, and wore distinct tattoos to mark their station. A single tear on the right eye marked a slave prostitute, a horsehead on the cheek marked a stable worker, flies on the cheek marked a dung collector and so on.
It was the slaves who built the city that stands today, guided by the hands of their masters, yet all they would ever pass down is another chain collar.
Knowing that walking afoot taints the eyes of noblemen, Dorian bought himself a palanquin and put on some luxurious clothes. He had some of his best men carry the palanquin and take him to the Black Walls of Volantis, which stood two hundred feet high and thick enough for six four-horse chariots to race around it side by side. Within those walls was a labyrinth filled with palaces, courtyards, towers, temples and cellars where the lords of ancient blood lived. Only they could invite ‘inferior’ individuals such as slaves, freedmen and foreigners inside their walls.
The guards readied their spears, wearing clear jade-green tiger stripes on their cheeks. Slave soldiers.
“Address your master.”
“Dorian Daggerhand, Captain-General of the Stormravens.” Jace, one of his captains, replied with confidence. “He requests entry within the Black Walls of Volantis from Lord Vigarys.”
One of the guards retreated inside of the walls. After some time, he returned with a nobleman of the Tiger political faction. The Tigers favoured war and conquest, while the Elephants were a party of traders.
It was an older man, with only grey for hair yet plenty of it. He arrived by hathay, a cart pulled by a baby elephant.
“You always arrive at such opportune times, Dorian. I, Vigarys Artheon, invite you personally into the Black Walls.” The nobleman looked to the guard, getting the formalities out of the way, before turning back to Dorian. “Come, join me on this bench. We have much to speak of.”
“Do we?” Dorian grinned slightly.
“Oh, yes. Your talents would be most helpful.”
“Jace, wait here.”
Dorian left his palanquin and joined him on the hathay. The rider urged the baby elephant forward, and it began marching along the elaborate pathway. The aged noble then looked at Dorian.
“I thought you had retired from sellsword work.”
“Gold was running a bit low.” Dorian smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “It sounds like you have need of me. Nothing easy, I bet?”
“If it were easy, much cheaper men would do.”
“Now you have my curiosity.”
…
Invited to dinner, Dorian would enjoy a dinner with Vigarys in the walls of a manse that looked more like a castle. After sharing a drink, Vigarys observed the seemingly cutthroat captain with caution. A dozen of his most loyal guards surrounded the room.
“Why are you here, truly? It's not just because you missed home… and gold is plentiful in other places, closer to the west.”
“The truth?” Dorian looked back, showing his sharp teeth. “I wanted a dragon egg. One of the elephant nobles has one… Valon, is it?”
“You think you'd be able to replicate the slave-loving queen’s miracle? Even you couldn't be so delusional.”
“No, I simply want to hang one in my manse.” Dorian shrugged. “I’ve attained a great many things in my life - but a dragon egg is not one of them. I feel… incomplete.”
“So, you're a collector now?”
“Aye. Now, you mentioned a contract?”
“You know how Volantis was developed and how it maintains itself. There was a disturbance in Slaver’s Bay, a wave that can spread closer than we would like. That horselord whore gives them hope. The slaves who make our food, clean our streets, fight our battles, clean our streets, man the galleys that we trade by… she gives them hope that someday they might be free.”
“Our?” Dorian laughed, shaking his head.
“The Old Blood of Volantis. Elephant nor tiger can sleep in peace during such times. We plan to send a vast fleet to put her down and all talks of freedom. But - you’d be cheaper than over five hundred ships. Unless, it’s too much for you alone?”
“Why, I’m the finest assassin in the world.” Dorian grinned, shaking his head. “Alas, killing someone as well guarded as the Dragon Queen… it’s rather risky. Possible, yes - but only a contract I’d accept with a fitting reward.”
“And what will sway you, gold?”
“Half a million gold pieces upon completion would suffice. However, I require the dragon egg in advance before I give you my word.”
“Valon will not be happy.” Vigarys smiled, stroking his beard. “Though, as little as I care for the man, I’m not quite fond of putting my reputation and influence on the line to seize such an item before you complete the deed.”
“I’m not fond of the prospect of a force as mighty as Volantis simply laughing in my face once I am done. Who is more vulnerable here, my friend? One of the mightiest cities in the world or one man? I’ve never turned my back on a contract but the Triarchs of Volantis are all politickers who lie as much as they speak. I will be paid in advance or find something else to do with my time.”
“Quite the ultimatum.”
“It’s just a piece of stone, at the end of the day. You’d rather risk this Dragon Queen sinking your fleet and then coming over to break some more chains?” Dorian grinned as he shrugged his shoulders. “Truth be told, I might take your distrust as an insult and help her instead.”
“You’d lose sorely.”
“Only time would tell. Do you want to take that risk?”
Vigarys gave him a stare while the guards looked ready to move from their roots. Dorian did not look amused, grabbing an apple and munching on it.
“You always drive a hard bargain, Dorian. You are fortunate to possess the skills that you do.”
“I only make demands that I know you’d agree with, old partner.” Dorian chuckled. “Since when did you like the peaceful Elephants who have kept you from war? Stripping them of such a treasure under the guise of benefitting every noble in Volantis… I’m surprised you didn’t say yes immediately.”
“Your cunning tongue is your greatest asset. Very well, I shall write up this contract. You will have a year to bring us her head.”
“I’ll serve it on a golden platter.”
After signing the contract, the Triarchs of Volantis would grant him five ships and a hundred and fifty mercenaries. Though it was under the guise of ‘assisting him’, Dorian knew better. These mercenaries were not his friends… but rather precautions. He would spend a few days getting to know the captains before sailing from Volantis.
As he sat in his cabin, all he could look at was the dragon egg. It was mostly black, streaked with gold that shined in the night. Its scales were authentic, enduring the hottest of flames. Small wonder the noble was so reluctant to part with it, Dorian thought to himself. An otherwordly beauty of a bygone era, solid as stone, yet ever so majestic.
He turned to the contract laying on the table, etched in his blood. His lips curled into a grin as he carelessly tossed it to the side.
It’s the dawn of a new era.
~
[Jon’s POV]
As soon as the King departed, a clear sense of unease washed over Castle Black. The Wildlings had knelt to Edric Baratheon, yet that did not make them all that fond of the crows around them. The Night’s Watch and Northmen had similar views, who were more than happy to cut them down if not for the King’s decree. Alas, it was Robb’s duty to keep the peace which Jon aided with where he could.
“She’s mad.” One of the Northmen frowned, pointing at Harma Dogshead. “The wildling bitch took my dog in the night and killed it!”
“It was for my banner.” Harma Dogshead shrugged. “A totem.”
“Your totem? I’ll shove it up your ass, you wildling.”
Before the Northman could draw his sword, Jon grabbed his hand.
“Let’s not get into a war over a dog.”
“Snow? As far as I know, you’re one of them.” The Northman stared at him coldly, brushing his hand off.
“Even if I was, what would it matter?” Jon questioned, raising an eyebrow. “We’re meant to be united as one either way. We all serve the same King.”
“Do they?” The Northman spat. “As soon as they go south, who is to stop them from raiding our lands, killing us, stealing our crops, taking away women and girls - as they’ve always done?”
“If you want a fight, we can give you one.” Halleck, Harma’s brother, stepped forward with an axe.
“The King’s Peace. Whoever breaks it, shall meet justice - as with any outlaw. Not all freefolk are what you believe them to be. There are those with ill intentions and those who simply seek a better life, to live past the Winter - same as all of us. We cannot judge them all to be the same.”
“Jon is right.” Robb stepped in. “Those who break the King’s laws shall meet the King’s justice, simple as that. Harma Dogshead - you swore to abide by his laws and disband your wildling ways. Fortunately for you, it was just a dog, which I can overlook so long as you repay our man fairly and express regret over your actions. Unless, you’d wish for His Grace to oversee this matter later… to which, I can assure you he will not be as kind.”
“...” At the mention of Edric, Harma Dogshead’s position on the matter had changed. “I express my regret over my actions. I will find you a new dog.”
“... And don’t steal it from someone else.” Robb shook his head.
Later, Jon would share supper with his brother, sister and Edric’s highborn squire. Dickon Tarly had all the courage and vigour that his brother Sam had lacked. He’d often go into the yard and face older boys, even men in intense spars. Bruises, scratches and other wounds did not deter him. He was born to be a warrior and, doubtlessly, Lord Tarly took great pride in him. Yet, he did not have Samwell’s wits and love for books and knowledge. He only knew the way of the sword.
“Threatening to fight over some dog.” Robb shook his head. “Every day, it’s something new.”
“His Grace should’ve butchered the widllings.” Dickon added. “They don’t bring anything but discontent and chaos. It’s the one time I thought of him as soft.”
“It is the opposite of that.” Arya countered. “Killing them is easy for him, you’ve all seen it. What’s more difficult is uniting two kinds of people who have been fighting for hundreds, if not thousands of years.”
Jon nodded. “With time, it will get better.”
He would spar the squire later, testing his steel. His observations were proven right. He was good. Not someone Jon struggled against, but he imagined that the boy would be a far more formidable as a man.
“I hear you were close with my brother.” The squire would later inquire from him as their spar came to an end. “How is he? I’ve not seen him around.”
“I can’t say for certain.” Jon admitted, shaking his head. “I can only hope that he finds his way south to the Wall from the expedition.”
“... My father would have his wish if he did not.” Dickon remarked.
“And you?”
“He’s still my blood - my brother. I would only wish for him to be strong.”
“You squired for the right person.” Jon said, nodding. “Sam is… deceptively strong. He’ll be back in time.”
…
A day later, Bowen Marsh and his men would return. Jaime Lannister was not too far from the front, leading a wave of fresh black brothers he did not recognise. These were the Lannister men in black, he soon realised. His appearance left a sour taste in the Northmen, who had fought against the Lannisters not all that long ago.
Among their group was Gilly and Sam, who Jon smiled at the sight of. He had survived, after all.
“What’s this?” Bowen Marsh frowned, observing all the wildlings in Castle Black with a disapproving glare.
“It’s a long story.” Robb replied, glancing back. “Many things occurred in a short period of time. Come inside and I shall explain everything.”
“I do love a long story.” Jaime dismounted from his horse, taking a look at the wildlings. “I take it this is Edric’s doing?”
“You would be right, Kingslayer.” Robb nodded.
“You sound and look more like your father, Lord Stark, only with Tully colours.” Jaime mused.
“I find that black suits you well.” Robb countered.
“You think so?” Jaime shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose it brings out the gold.”
With the thousands of free folk, Edric’s return on the horizon and the entire Night’s Watch gathering… no one could predict who would be the next elected Lord Commander. Bowen Marsh, while the Lord Steward, was not fitting to be Lord Commander in other aspects. There are plenty of men who would vote against him as well or choose the commanders of their respective posts, such as the Shadow Tower or Eastwatch.
The air was teeming with uncertainty…
