Bab 155: Baelin 2
293AC
He carefully polished the black steel of the boot, finding each nook and smudge with the rag as he endeavored to the best of his abilities to render it perfect.
It was a part of his routine now, all that kept him from the sword's edge.
He did not know what had differentiated him from the other prisoners, nor what had won him the favor of the monster he now served, but he had quickly adapted to the role nonetheless. He might have gone from citizen to slave, but a slave was better than dead.
He thought so anyway, and he doubted the other prisoners had been so lucky. He forced his mind away from their likely fate as he finished the boots, moving on to the gauntlets.
He almost dropped them when he heard the shifting behind him, a noise that always made him jump. It was understandable given the occupant of the bed.
He forced his breathing to calm, pushing his mind back to his work, bringing his thoughts into line.
He had thought for certain that the city would have fallen by now.
Every few days, "King" Viserys, the monstrosity behind him, would lead an assault on the walls, casting aside a pocket of strong resistance, normally part of the golden company. He would effortlessly cast them down like they were nothing, suffering a few casualties in the process.
Then he would draw back, never press the advantage. He was sure that at each time he could have seized a gatehouse, let the attacking army into the city, but he seemed almost not to care about the siege at all, though whether he really cared for anything was an open question as far as Baelin was concerned.
He continued to polish the armor for some time, scrubbing away at it carefully, sure to miss not a speck of filth. He wanted to keep his head, and unburned at that.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the monster's dry and cracky voice behind him.
"Who are you…?" The monster asked, and Baelin felt a chill run down his spine, turning st once to face his master and bowing.
"Ah-uhm," he tugged at the collar of his shirt, meeting the gaze of those burning eyes. "Baelin sir. You ordered me brought here to serve you, do you remember?"
The monster had the form of a tall and skinny young man, with powerful muscles seeming to want to tear out from under his clammy white skin. His skin was completely immaculate, like a statue carved of purest marble, save for a band of blackened flesh which wrapped itself around his neck as if it were a slaves-collar. Long white hair fell down over his face and reached a fair way down his neck, and part of Baelin's role was to braid it before he put on his helmet. His face was handsome in a manner, but ever unmoving, locked into a perpetual frown that hardly changed when he spoke, and never in reaction to any outside stimulus. All of that would be well enough, if odd, but one feature remained.
The Monster's eyes burned with baleful red fire, ever so slightly tinged with purple. They flared like candles at all hours of the day, and when he slept he kept them open. They were a reminder that the self-proclaimed king was more than a man, just as much, or perhaps moreso than his burning longsword.
The monster stared passively at him for a moment, before opening his mouth again.
"Is that all you are?"
Baelin nodded quickly. "Yes, your grace."
The monster blinked slowly, though the glow of the fiery eyes showed through his eyelids.
"That must be easy then."
Baelin felt an urge to grumble at that, but knew better, instead, he took to bowing once again, conceding to the monster and his "superior" wisdom.
"I have no idea who I am." The king said, waving his arm dismissively. "You may return to your work."
'As if I have a choice.' Baelin thought, returning to the polishing, not particularly up to listening to the mad ramblings of the monster, keeping instead to himself in the hopes that someday he might be able to make an escape. 'Sothoryos maybe, or the basilisk isles, the pirates there always want more men right?'
He finished about twenty minutes later and was just about to go to find some breakfast when an unnaturally hot hand came down on his shoulder.
"If you will. Run a message for me to the Triarch's camp." Baelin nodded slightly, resisting the urge to flinch back from the boiling-hot hand of the monster. "The time is now for Myr to fall, be ready."
It felt like the weight of the world was crashing down on him. Baelin couldn't help himself, he choked aloud.
King Viserys stepped back, staring at him with those blazing eyes, even as he tried to cough out apologies.
"I...I'm sorry your grace, I will carry your message now."
As Baelin left the tent he couldn't help the ice grip the words had on his heart. For he knew well the defense would fail.
He was delivering the message that would doom his home.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone