Chương 8: The First Daughter
The pile of books slammed onto the table in front of me.
"You need to look through these," Haldon said with a glint in his eyes. Sometimes I wondered if he wanted me to suffer after all I've done. "Just as you're training your body, you need to train your mind. After all, it's you who said a brain needs books like a blade needs a whetstone."
"But I feel my blade is sharp enough," I whined in a voice of a boy who's balls were yet to drop. I looked down at the cover and scoffed. "The Most Illustrious Histories of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros." Not just one, but three of the seven volumes in existence. I could tell from the title it was going to be a most riveting read. I was familiar with the maester who wrote them and he'd the most infamous reputation of droning on and on. "I've read the first two already. The ones about the Empire of the Stormlords and the unequal treaties from the four kingdoms who carved up the Riverlands." Pouting, I turned away. "I'm assuming you want me read these and not, say, bludgeon someone to death with them?"
Between all books I've read here, I much preferred Fire and Blood. Believe it or not, both the World of Ice and Fire, and Fire and Blood – both part one and two – were in-universe documents as well. I got my hands on them as soon as I could and read them every night. Jaehaerys was interesting, as was the Conqueror, but so was Aegon the Unworthy for the scandal factor. I'd done much note taking that night.
Haldon's lip curved. "Very perceptive of you. Granted, these books are perhaps enough to kill someone, but they're far too valuable for that."
"There's only value in things people want. Who'd want to read these?" One thing I couldn't deny is that these were boring reads and reading them did make me sleepy. Maybe gift them to a person with insomnia?
"Believe it or not, some people actually like reading about the past."
"I like reading history," I shot back defensively. "I just don't like Maester Glendon."
"He's not a most eloquent writer, I'll admit. But these books are important. They detail how everything happened. He's very comprehensive."
"Very comprehensive," I mumbled. "Are there no other books at least? I'll even agree to do maths if to avoid this maester's magnum opus."
"You will read these and give me a summery, Young Griff. No avoiding this. Your training with the Golden Company has disrupted your learning."
"Oh, yes. My learning of Essosi agricultural practises," I let out, barely holding in a laugh. According to my father, the modernisation of the Pentoshi fields was a success, though a few alterations had been made without my knowledge. But seeing as I've never seen a farm in my life before being transported to Essos, I considered it a roaring success. Magister Illyrio happily wrote how his holdings had surpassed the previous yields and even began the manufacturing of more seed drills, despite being expansive and surprisingly fragile. I'd been surprised but I never doubted the capitalists of Essos would pass up a chance for more money. Illyrio especially. "Do I really need to learn it?"
"You do. You may have made an improved plough but you might as well learn more. Use it for further inspiration if you must."
Aegon Blackfyre, king of farmers. I almost laughed at that, but as with that King of the Reach, I may be seen as Garth Greenhand come again. Though such a thing made me wonder if I was the only person to ever be transported here. It was an intriguing thought. "I could, but I'll much rather think about military organisation at the moment. After all, I'm trying to change the Golden Company into a more efficient fighting force."
"You're trying to reinvent the wheel. The Golden Company is already the best sellsword company."
"Sellsword company, but not standing army," I informed him with a little smirk. It would be hard but, with commanders like Myles Toyne and others aiding me, I was certain it could happen.
One of the key things I did was improve the logistics and baggage train. Every man was required to carry their armour, weapons, and fifteen days' worth of rations. To make that easier, and with the help of Haldon, I brought back those forked sticks the Roman Legions used to carry the load on their shoulders. It earned them the nickname "Griff's mules" and required less beasts of burden which improved speed of movement. The men despised the act of carrying their own things, but the commanders loved me as they rode atop horses. I was forced to walk, carrying my equipment on my back so at least my comrades-in-arms knew I stood beside them as they threw insults my way.
Not only that, but I'd began to formulate a new structure for how the new model army would operate. I would split the Golden Company down the centre into two forces of five thousand fighting men which didn't include logistical and support units like physicians and engineers. They'll be ten groups of five hundred men forming a cohort, each cohort made up of five groups of centuries numbering one hundred. That hundred would organise in ten groups of ten men who'd share a tent and cooking pot. Plagiarising from the roman legion, I confess, though I did change the exact numbers. I also needed doctrines that could be used against heavy shock cavalry. All this was being kept secret until I sorted everything out. For personal preference I didn't want people to know.
"It's an army, Aegon," Halfmaester rolled his eyes at me.
"An army under the command of a state," I explained. "One that can crush any rebellion. Not an army of mercenaries. When I get my throne, I want a professional army that is loyal only to me. I don't want men loyal to their lords. That's primitive. There needs to be a standing army loyal only to the king. A professional army like the Ghiscari legions of old. Nothing could stand against them."
"Nothing could stand against them because they were the most advanced civilisation at the time. The Valyrians were more primitive during the early wars but they had dragons. Even then, Ghiscari legions had weaknesses. That'll only reflect in yours."
Oh, mine is a different beast. Ghiscari legions were Philip and Alexander the Great's phalanx. Mine is Roman order and discipline, late medieval equipment with a healthy dosing of the best doctrines mankind has to offer. If I did have dragons, I would use them like the German air force during World War Two. Use them to support my army in a blitzkrieg that would overwhelm the levies of Westeros. I knew that the organisation of the Golden Company was already greater than the forces of the Iron Throne and would be of higher quality even if they won't match for quantity. I couldn't risk the pendulum going too far, however, else whatever casualties I got would be a nightmare to replace. I needed to be pragmatic.
I smiled at my tutor. "That is why I'm researching, so I know what and what not to do. While there are problems with a fully professional army, such as costs, there are glaring weaknesses in the current feudal levy Westerosi uses. Whether the new royal army will be staffed by professionals or semi, will be a matter of debate." How much money the treasury has will dictate that. "Of course, I could be wrong. But we won't know that till we try? Now can we?"
...
From what I expected of Volantis, I imagined something akin to Constantinople. But what I saw couldn't even compare.
The walls were massive, made of brick and standing higher than those of Pentos. They were beautiful to behold with ornate crenellations sculpted to look like beasts and standing atop them were guardsmen watching our column. Those very walls, Gorys Edoryen said, were strong enough to throw back dozens of invasions whether from ambitious neighbours or Dothraki Khalasars. Even with the walls, a large portion of the city was built outside for those of trades like tanners and dyers. Poorer folk lived in shacks, too poor to afford the houses inside and lacking the misfortune to be slaves who were sheltered by their masters.
The gates were barred for us so we needed to wait outside until they opened where a highborn member of the Old Blood approached riding an elephant with gilded tusks and draped in silk. He towered above us, sitting in a luxurious howdah. Behind him marched a column of soldiers with green tiger stripes tattooed across their cheeks. The guards wore polished helmets shaped in the likeness of tigers and mail shirts fashioned with scales; as well as spears and shields and steel claws jutting from their gauntlets. Septa Lemore said many of the tiger cloaks who protected the Old Blood were Unsullied. The Old Blood stood his ground just before the gates and sent a slave demanding the officers of the Golden Company approach. The officers were annoyed but Myles Toyne, Ser Harry Strickland and Lysono Maar proceeded forward and unarmed should they insult the noble's sensibilities. In Volantis it was a most dangerous felony to bare steel against the Old Blood. They talked and the officers returned, irritated we needed to withdraw from the city and make camp further up the river. The Old Blood didn't like the idea of an army camping outside their walls, even if it was an army they hired.
Grudgingly we did so. We marched back up the road and made camp in a town next to the River Rhoyne. Many of the men lost themselves to drink, while the officers took the night in a cluster of small brothels that were surprised to learn they were catering to sellswords when they usually satisfied merchants and fishermen.
I didn't get to enjoy that, but nor would I have wanted to. Instead I helped build the camp, dig ditches and sharpen stakes. My hands were calloused, not the softer features of the boy I once was. During my time in the Golden Company, my body had changed. Young Griff had a body that was naturally lithe and didn't really bulk up as others did. But I had grown stronger and more graceful. I wondered how it was going to change with puberty though . . . should be interesting . . .
When the ditches were dug and the stakes planted, I sat on a slope away from everyone else with a harp in my hands and a parchment of notes to the side. I ran my fingers along the strings, listening to the soothing sound they made. I tried – key word is tried – to play 'I vow to Thee, My Country.' I didn't sing the words, though I certainly hummed them and tried to imagine a whole orchestra. While I very much retained my accent, my voice was different and, I'll give Young Griff this, his voice was the kind that could work a tune.
"Playing that again?" Septa Lemore asked, having sneaked beside me. I stopped and looked up at the septa wearing a pure white garb that made her look half a saint. Her handsome features added to that, making her look wise and thoughtful. "One of the songs Illyrio's musician taught you?"
I shook my head and she sat down beside me. Lemore removed her sandals and her feet brushed the grass that whistled with grasshoppers.
"I invented it," I lied. It felt like I did as I tried to remember all the words and how the notes played out. Transcribing a song from faltering memory was hard. I was even sure I got wrong a few bits that just didn't sound right. I gave an artless shrug. "The tune came to me while drawing. I whistled it to myself just like now, then decided to write it down. I like it."
"Aegon the Troubadour," she said warmly and I couldn't help but smile. Septa Lemore did have a nice and soothing voice. It felt like I could say anything to her . . . almost anything. "If not for being a black dragon, I'd have said it came from Rhaegar's blood. He was a most talented musician, I've heard and his wife . . . the Princess Elia of Dorne . . . loved music." A shadow crossed her face for the briefest of moments.
I averted my gaze and looked across the river. "How do you feel about me being a Blackfyre?"
"You are what you are. No one chooses who they're born to. You're innocent of the plots that have you as a piece. I will stand by your side until you decide you have no need of me."
I'm not innocent of the plots I'm putting into place. "So you'll be here for a while then," I smiled, an expression she returned. "So about Aegon the Troubadour . . . do you think I should compose a marching song for the Company to march to? With drums?" It would help set a marching pace. Maybe even a dedicated drummer corps. That was an idea.
Septa Lemore laughed, patting me on the knee. "So many new ideas, young one. Don't overdo it."
"But I have so many ideas," I whined. There were so many things I could do, what I should and need to do, but unable. It was frustrating. They saw me as a boy . . . if a somewhat wise one. Granted, I may not be the most well-versed, but my ideas would work. "Not only that, I want to excel, I want everything to excel. There is not enough time in the world to do all that I want to do!" Not with the Westerosi civil war going to happen in the future, anyhow. That wasn't to mention the birth of the dragons and the Other invasion . . .
Speaking of the Others, I didn't know how I was going to deal with them. Honestly, I was kicking myself for passing over that section of the books. I didn't enjoy that storyline or anything relating to Sam Tarly or Jonny Snow so I skipped those chapters. The only bit at the Wall I did read was solely for Stannis the Mannis. It was just that I found Jon's chapters dreadfully dull. His character and plotline never interested me. The greatest mistake I've made, it seems. Such a mistake left me completely blind of everything going on up north. It put me in kind of a disadvantage when my entire strategy was based around knowing what others were going to do.
I supposed it wouldn't be that hard. I mean, the Others could only be a minor thing, right? The story, after all, was about the intrigue and the War of the Five Kings and the destruction it left behind. That was why the Wall had such a minor part and was separated from the rest of the story. As such, the south was my objective and would get my focus, not the North. It was very likely I didn't even need to get involved there and that would do for me. The North and the Starks would fight their own battles.
...
To great fanfare we paraded through the city gates.
If there was one thing that could never be forgotten about the Volantis, it was the stench. The air was heavy with heat shimmering lazily before me and the cobblestone was hot enough to be felt through my sandals. Such heat easily sapped one's strength. Only a thousand men of the Golden Company were allowed inside for a parade that included a number of tiger cloaks. The rest of the Company remained outside on the off chance we decide to do a Daenerys. Even though Volantis hired our services, the Triachs didn't trust us despite being the most respectable sellsword company in the business.
Give them points for caution at least. Makes them smarter than the Kind Masters.
Cheering us were people lining the broad avenues, all in awe at the sight of us. Many leaned out windows, looked down from balconies and parents stood with children atop their shoulders. There were slaves – as judged by the tattoos on their faces – and freemen. Faces of a hundred different races that called Volantis home, whether willingly or not. It was a worthy enough spectacle. No doubt Myles Toyne wanted a splendid parade and the polished lances of knights and cataphracts served perfectly. The shining mail and beautiful mounts made a stirring enough image that may encourage more recruits to sign up. One could never underestimate the value of propaganda.
We marched past guildhalls, markets and bathhouses, statues and fountains in the forms of beasts and men standing alone in vast empty plazas. There were aqueducts supplying fresh water, arenas and triumphal arches that looked so roman if not for the constant imagery of dragons on each and every one of them. Speaking of dragons, the sheer amount made it look like the Free City of Volantis had a greater fetish for them than the Targaryens, which was saying something. There were shops and winesinks, lodges and cyvasse parlours where men played and sipped wine as slaves waited on them hand and feet. Trees of palm and cedar lined the straight cobbled road and monuments stood at every junction. Many statues, I noted, lacked heads. Said statues also happened to all be politicians of the militant tiger faction who never regained power since the Century of Blood. They still stood tall and imposing despite having been decapitated like French royalty.
"So this is Mother Volantis, the first daughter of Valyria," Damon mused, wrinkling his nose. "This place smells of shit and old whores."
"This is the new city. The old city smells of fresh whores and costly perfume," one of the older sellswords said, an amber-skinned brute from Slaver's Bay. His cheek was a monstrous ruin from where he'd burnt his slave mark off. "But underneath the perfume it's just as bad, if not worse."
Marching south along the river, the streets grew smaller and meaner. The once lush and tall trees shrank while the stone roads turned to packed dirt. So this is the true Volantis: the First Daughter of Valyria, the Mistress of the Summer Sea, Queen of the Rhoyne, the home of noble lords and lovely ladies of purest blood. There were roaming packs of naked children and stray dogs that stole whatever they could get their maws on. At the front of shops stood Bravos with puffed up clothing and swords on their hips. Slaves in rags and bent backs busily cleaned up all the refuge littering the ground, the lot of them scurrying like cockroaches. Glorious Volantis, the most powerful and populous of the Free Cities, with boundless wealth and endless power. Never mind the squalor and depopulation where parts of the city sunk into the ground, where old buildings were left crumbling, unowned and unwanted. Beautiful Volantis, city of fountains and flowers. The centre of the high arts. Never mind that many canals, fountains and drinking wells were dry, pools stagnant and cracked, public bathhouses left abandoned. Vines crept up the sides of buildings, latching onto to every crook and cranny in the walls and pavement. And, in abandoned shops and temples, young trees were bursting through.
On the Long Bridge we were forced to halt thanks to massive congestion. The city watch tried to push forward but the agitated crowd was resilient. Such traffic allowed me to look at the surroundings. The gateway was black stone, a massive arch carved with sphinxes, manticores, dragons, women with dragon wings and stranger creatures I couldn't see any similarities to earth mythology. Like the bridge of London before it burnt down, the Long Bridge had buildings in the forms of shops, temples, taverns and inns, brothels and gaming parlours. Midway through, I paused. Proudly on display were the remains of thieves and cutpurses, rapists and slaves who raised a hand against their masters. They hung from the battlements, their bodies reduced to bloody strips of fresh from where they'd been flayed. Their eyes had been gouged out and leaving only two bloody holes. Whenever the birds rested to feast, the spearmen underneath jabbed the bodies with long spears and sent the birds flying. The carrion birds returned shortly thereafter. Honestly, by this point I was quite desensitised to nearly everything. I was more apathetic than horrified. Being an avid fan of history, I heard much about ancient torture and execution but it was one thing to read about it, another thing to see it in the flesh. I supposed I should be disturbed, both at myself and the others who all ignored it, but I really wasn't. After all, over here, execution and public torture was a spectacle you brought your children to for some family fun.
Eventually we exited the Long Gate and entered Old Volantis which, honestly, looked much nicer. Much of eastern Volantis was manses and palaces for the city's rich and powerful. The stone streets were wide and lined with palm trees. Common were the sights of dwarf elephants, carriages, palanquins and chariots. The manses got larger and grander the closer they got the Black Walls where only those with an unbroken line to Old Valyria resided. A group of people who proclaim themselves racially superior to others they see as lesser. Where did I ever hear that before? Though it did make me wonder how many of the Old Blood actually looked Valyrian. Well, there was only way to find out and the question would be answered shortly.
With the upcoming elections, many of the inns and brothels were crowded. Sex slaves leaned out the windows, waving people inside and freely showing their nakedness. The grandest of public buildings could rival the architecture of earth's cities and put them to shame. Tall and imposing, they projected strength to the poor and downtrodden. Those who could afford to wouldn't dare touch the ground, instead they rode palanquins, litters and ornate carts pulled by dwarf elephants. Speaking of elephants, there were so many of them. One great grey behemoth wore embroidered silk, with a tower on its back crammed full of naked slave girls flaunting their bodies and calling to anyone who looked wealthy. I gaped at the sight, as did many others. A few sellswords whooped and Damon made a jest when one blew a kiss in our direction. There goes Aegon's virgin eyes. I would have loved to see Joncon's face. Griff very much desired to protect my 'innocence,' because, apparently, watching people get murdered is acceptable, but not female nipples. Priorities am I right?
Despite being invited, the Unsullied tiger cloaks guarding the entrance were hesitant to let in any more than the bare minimum. After all, they didn't want to pollute the interior with foreigners. Blackheart accepted, taking Jon, Homeless Harry and myself. I was surprised and, when I approached, the captain-general winked. Everyone else needed to remain outside, though they were charitably given lodgings in the barracks. My companions weren't happy about being left behind, but I promised them a story of what it looked like inside and that seemed to pacify them. The guards took our weapons and we were escorted inside. The tunnel, with its three portcullises, was like entering the maw of a monster. The passage was lined with dragons and other monstrosities made of the same black stone as the walls. Defending the passage were murder holes in the walls and the ceiling where boiling liquids would be dropped on those foolish enough to try and take the Black Walls by storm. It was long and arched, large enough for even the largest elephants to pass through with plenty of room to spare.
Inside the Black Walls was something else. It was like staring at the closest thing to a utopia this world allowed.
While I thought the palaces outside were impressive, the ones before me put everything else to shame. Golden domes topped each building, with stained glass windows and wide open streets clean of dirt thanks to a complex series of sewers and plumbing keeping the filth at bay. Around each palace were large spaced gardens full of brightly coloured flowers which, Harry told me, had once been common in the Land of the Long Summer before the Doom. Contrast to outside, the air smelled sweet and spicy. Those who called the Black Walls home rode atop litters and reclined in open spaces debating. All with hair of silver, platinum and gold, with eyes of various shades of blue and purple. All happy and completely without worry, laughing and peaceful in the confines of the Black Walls. It was quiet. A city isolated from the outside world. A paradise built on the backs of those enslaved in the shackles of service.
The greatest building was the Assembly itself; the ancient citadel where the Valyrian garrison had once been stationed. Now it was the political centre of Volantis – a massive black tower of fused stone with an opened topped tower decorated with endless statues. The most imposing thing my eyes had ever seen.
"Wow," I couldn't help myself as I stared. When I thought this world couldn't impress me any further, it proves me wrong. I didn't like it when that happened.
Myles Toyne smiled. "Impressed, lad? I should think so. This is what your ancestors created from ages past. What your people achieved."
They're not my people. My people forged the greatest empire the world had ever known. My people destroyed the slave trade. My people did horrible things as well, that went without saying, but they did great things as well. Valyria may have been Aegon's culture, but it wasn't mine. I could have said that, but instead I said, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"A harsh beauty," Jon Connington said. Even he was impressed.
"Indeed," agreed Harry. "What could you expect when this was built by the Freehold? The political centre of the most powerful military on the continent and a city with endless wealth. Inside are our future employers and possible future allies. You'll see how you speak with those who consider themselves your superiors. Maybe you'll learn something."
Being escorted inside by a slave, we were met with massive black doors banded with gold twisted and shaped into dragons crusted with precious stones. The inside was an expansive empty space. The floors were white marble floor tiles veined with blue ripples and standing in the centre was a massive naked woman with a sword raised above her head and a pair of dragon wings sprouting from her back. In small alcoves were the statues of the previous Triachs who once served as the three leaders of the city. The ceiling was a massive dome with glass that were perfectly arranged to angle the light down onto each of the statues and coat them in an ethereal glow.
If the outside failed to impress visitors, this would certainly do the job.
The slave girl turned to us and said we needed to prepare for the audience and look presentable by putting on fresh cloches and bathe, which Myles smirked and jested when we were escorted to a large room with a sprawling pool of cloudy green water. Without missing a beat, Toyne stripped from his garb and climbed inside. His form was darkly-tanned and well-built despite his smaller size. Jon couldn't help but let his eyes linger for a moment before removing his own garbs, with Harry following more cautiously after. They didn't care. Not that I expected different. It was a common thing to see the Golden Company strip naked when they bathed. I was well-versed in the sights at this point.
Whilst bathing and talking on how to best deal with the Triachs, Homeless Harry turned to me, "Boy, I'd suggest you remove that dye from your hair. The Triachs don't have a high regard for the Tyroshi, not after they helped cause the collapse of their empire. Not to mention hiding your Valyrian heritage is akin to blasphemy here."
"O-of course," I responded awkwardly. "I'll do so." It'd be strange seeing my silver-hair again. I was used to dying it despite my hatred for it at first. "Please excuse me."
Being escorted away, the slave girl poured a viral of cloudy liquid in a bronze basin half full of water. Taking a sniff, I choked. Looking at what looked like an apology in her eyes, I was asked to take a seat in the centre of the circular tub, the slave scrubbed my hair until the water in the basin was dark. Taking one of the curls dangling between my eyes, I saw it was fair once more. I guess I should feel satisfied my true hair colour was no longer hidden, but before we returned to the column I would need another coat of dye applied to keep up the image. Looking into a polished sliver mirror, I couldn't help but smile ever-so-slightly. Ok, I'm a bit vain. I won't deny it, nor would I deny I cut a striking image that promised to be even more striking when I reached maturity.
Hopefully Illyrio's fat because he's gorging on food like there's no tomorrow, not because of some inheritable medical condition . . .
Biting the inside of my cheek, I glimpsed the slave girl stare. When she realised I knew she was looking, she averted her gaze, spoke some words and soon I was back in the massive room with the equally large bath.
It was later when we were sent to another series of rooms and given clothes. Of course, in the style of Volantis, we couldn't dress ourselves because the idea of doing anything for one's self was a sign of poverty. Maybe they ask their slaves to fuck their wives for them as well, I thought dryly. I was given a set of clothes to choose from but, like any deeply involved pair of parents, Myles Toyne and Jon Connington got into a bitter argument and chose for me. When everything was done, I wore high-heeled riding boots of gilded leather, a black lambswool tunic, but no trousers for that was a sign of barbarians. I had a studded leather belt and otherwise looked quite ordinary, like a servant who wasn't meant to be noticed. As long as I didn't do the talking, that was fine with me.
Finally ready, we entered the audience chamber. Inside was raised dais of black marble that wrapped around the room. On one flank was a massive golden elephant encrusted with precious stones; on the other was a tiger rearing on its rear legs and staring directly at me. Sitting before them were the three leaders, old men with silver-hair and purple-eyes, one thin and holding himself up fairly well, though the other two were slumping and potbellied. They sat in gilded thrones carried by slaves. They must have been a weight to carry, but I doubted those being carried really cared all that much.
"Hail to the glorious Triachs of Volantis," cried a young boy with a high pitch voice. "The First Daughter of Valyria, her heir and the rightful lords of the Freehold and the civilised world."
All three men looked at us like we were vermin or a bug to be crushed beneath their boots. I knew it was going to be frustrating. Standing with my chin held high, I took a deep breath and pondered how much I'd rather be waiting in the heat outside.
They talked business for the next few hours.
Malaquo Maegyr, the tiger and commander-in-chief of the Volantene military was as ancient as he was stubborn. His skin was grey, hair even greyer and he also had no teeth – probably due to all the sugar Volantenes had in their diet. The man also didn't like the idea of hiring sellswords to assist the city watch for Malaquo believed the tiger cloaks could stand on their own despite the quite distressing reports of riots happening in the poorer parts of the city. Games were common this time of year, either fighting pits or chariot racing which was all well and good except when the losing side let out their anger on the city and those around them. The chariot racing was especially political and many times the army had to be called in to enforce martial law.
The other two were both elephants by the names of Doniphos Paenymion and Nyessos Vhassar. Both were silver-haired and purple-eyed men, plump and soft as they sat atop thrones fashioned after the tusked beasts they loved so much. While they were the ones who specifically asked for the Golden Company, they were prickly when it came to prices. The Golden Company would be used to augment the city watch – primarily in the poorer regions – until the elections were over. It wasn't that hard of a contract. The Golden Company had done similar in the past. Man the walls, send men out to patrol the streets, hang any slaves who decide to take advantage of the chaos. I mostly just watched as Myles Toyne, Harry and the three Triachs argued over price. Despite having agreed beforehand, the two elephants and tiger decided they weren't happy and wanted the costs lowered. That took the greater part of an hour before all parties were barely satisfied. As Harry said afterwards, "A deal that satisfies no one is, at its heart, the best."
With the negotiations done, we were given free reign of the inner city during the time we were in their employ. A privilege reserved only for the highest officials of the Golden Company. It had been one of the things Myles asked for, which initially made them grimace before accepting. The Triachs didn't like the idea of non-Valyrians walking their precious roads, but it was clear that the captain-general desired something from them. He'd been pretty adamant when it came to that.
"And what may that be?" I asked him, my question as subtle as an earthquake. "The reason for letting me wander the Black Walls?"
He looked over at me, then laughed. "The sights, the beauty," he answered when a group of guards walked past, looking at us with harsh eyes. "Oh, and some answers. I know of you and your lust for knowledge. I also know you visited a certain mage."
I stopped in my tracks. "Excuse me?" Who ratted us out?
Myles Toyne's charred lips fought back a grin. "I'm no fool. I know who leaves and enters the camp, like you and your merry band leaving to go to a Rhoynish witch. Why? What for?"
"They encouraged me to do so," I said, the words slowly leaving my mouth. "They said she could see the future . . . I wanted her help."
"Help?" It was Jon who asked. "Why would you need help?"
I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my sandals, fidgeting slightly. "I get these strange dreams on occasion. Of dragons mostly." Dragon dreams. It was a lie. I didn't have those sorts of dreams, but it could be used to justify my knowledge of things going on around me and the future.
Myles Toyne took my chin and rose it tenderly so I was looking at him. "What are these dreams, lad?"
"I . . . I had a few. Once I saw five beasts fighting near the corpse of a stag with a crown atop it's head. There was a lion, a wolf, a squid and two lesser stags – a young one yet to gain its antlers and another. The stags duelled while the lions and wolves lashed out against each other. I went to the mage to see if she could understand."
The three officers were silent. Swallowing, Joncon answered. "I heard of these. Dragon dreams," he looked at the others awkwardly. "The Targaryens had them. They said they foresee the future. They said Daenys the Dreamer foresaw the Doom of Valyria, and others."
"Daemon Blackfyre as well. The second one," Myles muttered. "Bittersteel refused to aid him when the lad claimed a dragon would hatch at Whitewalls. If what you're saying is true, you may have it."
"I think so. But what does that mean for us . . . for me?" I blinked a few times and looked down, making myself look innocent and unknowing.
Affectionately, Myles put a hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze. "Nothing if you want it to. But it may prove useful."
"I would like her to join us."
"Who's her?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.
"The mage. She's very knowledgeable. I think she'd be useful." Especially once the dragons return. Or, in a worst case scenario, should I find myself in a dragon's arms race against Daenerys Targaryen. Someone like Lyra would be essential. She knew blood magic and, like Mirri, had been taught by Marwyn.
"Magic doesn't exist." Harry rolled his eyes.
It does. It'll return. "That was another one of my dreams . . . I saw an egg hatch. Three of them. Silver and black and green. They cracked and dragons flew out. Then they danced."
"That sounds like you made it up on the spot," Harry grumbled, folding his arms.
Only because I did. "Maybe." I smiled impishly and Toyne chuckled.
The captain-general slapped his paymaster on the shoulder. "Let the lad have a bit of fun. I don't care who joins the Company unless they prove themselves a burden." He then angled his head. "Is she comely?"
"What?"
"Is she fair to look upon?"
". . . Ish?" I didn't know how to respond to that. Lyra was attractive in a way but that wasn't the point. "But that's not why. I want her for her wits and knowledge. The Rhoynar were good with magic as can be seen in their histories. They used the power of the wind and rivers. I think it could be useful seeing as we need to sail across the Narrow Sea . . ."
"Sounds like a yes to me," Blackheart grinned. "You're a growing lad."
"Magic is little more than illusions," Jon warned me. "If she demanded money, you're a fool. All mages are mummers and scammers."
"No. She didn't want money. She wants knowledge. She wants to know how the world works. Like me." If I could get some books from these libraries, the magic of the Freehold as well as some things like glass candles, I can get her on my side. She was like Qyburn and couldn't resist tapping into the unknown. She said it herself. "To gain knowledge – true knowledge of the world and how it works – one must brave the tides."
I needed to brave the tides.
Myles Toyne looked at me deeply. "I know you're a boy, not a man, but I trust you in this. However, if you make an error in judgement, I won't come to your aid. I won't pick you up should you fall. Is that understood?"
"Understood."
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