Gold & Iron Republic AGOT AAR

[Romulus X]

Hello!

Welcome to my first ever AAR. While looking around a little bit, and falling in love with the writings of Henry v. Keiper, I got the sudden urge to write a narrative CK2 AGOT AAR myself.

Contrary to most AAR's I have seen, this one is going to be seti in Essos, Pentos, and rely heavily on character traits, relations, past experiences . In short - RP. I'm not even going to try to take over the whole world, starting as a little county, because as a matter-of-factly, I am not that good at the game.

To make the game a little bit harder for myself, (and in turn create a better story of beating the odds,) I decided to be the only High Valyrian patrician family in Pentos set about abolishing slavery because of our character's past experiences. This goal may change after a successor. I will start by governing a single province, and some small holdings in Pentos.

I decided to make up a "short" backstory integrating the character traits I had chosen for my character, but in the end I wrote 4 238 words in Microsoft word. The PROLOGUE is not something you have to read, but it gives a better idea on how the story is going to be written, and how did the only High Valyrian house in Pentos come to power.

I am doing this only because I enjoy it, and my intentions are to finish the writing. In real life I am a film director, writer and editor owning my own production company in my homeland Estonia. I have always loved to tell stories.
I have a background in creative writing, but I surely make mistakes here and there, because english is not my first language. Taking inspiration from GRRM the II, Henry v. Keiper, I try to infuse my characters, for lack of a better word with as much character as I possibly can.

Feedback would be very appreciated!

I hope you will enjoy this AAR!

So, without further ado, let us begin with PROLOGUE Chapter I!

I have changed the location of the thread from CK forums to CK2 forums (newbie mistake), and also I have fixed the issues with the table of contents. Cheers!

The fourms are dark and full of lurkers.

 

[Romulus X]

Table of contents:

PROLOGUE

Chapter I: Bound for Yunkai
Chapter II:The silverhead, the fisherman, his brother & her husband
Chapter III: One of a kind kind man in Pentos


LORD MASTER MERO HEPASTYS

Chapter I: The limping, wifeless merchant of Nontelos
Chapter II: Is war brewing?
Chapter III: The beautiful rose of Tyrosh
[URL="https://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum/index.php?threads/gold-iron-republic-agot-aar.1045418/#post-23393113"]Chapter IV: Suddenly everything fell into place[/URL]

 

[Romulus X]

Chapter I: Bound for Yunkai​

The sun was beginning to rise over the Free City of Volantis, the last remnants of the Valyrian Freehold. A young man, with silver-grey hair and purple eyes, perhaps about 19 some name days was sitting in his cell, impatiently, yet quite skillfully throwing a single pebble towards the walls of the cell, so it bounced back right next to his feet.
He had gotten pretty good at this, because he had been doing this for about 8 days. At the start he had to rise up and walk to the end of the cell to retrieve his pebble for another toss, but now he knew the wall so well, and the throw was so finely engraved in his muscle memory that he could throw it about 200 times, and get the same result each time with the pebble bouncing back to his legs, and sometimes his lap.
He tossed the pebble and it bounced back to his legs. He tossed the pebble again, and the same result would follow. He had been doing this for about 2 hours now since he woke up, but he figured he had to do something to distract himself.
For 8 days the sun had seemed to crawl across the sky only to sink into the water, slowly but surely peeking its enormous fiery body over the hills the next day, and continuing its crawl over the vast blue skies yet again, only to sink into the deep, dark, foamy waves once again.
His master, Magister Horonno of Volon Therys had acquired him from lord Yorko for a heavy sum of 115 gold dragons. "One of the last High Valyrians," he said, while announcing his price to master Horonno with a terrifying grin.

The heavy door to the hallway which led to his cell opened with a loud metallic creak, and shut with a strong wooden thunk.
He heard the steps of a slender man approaching, steps which he attributed to his master. He was not wrong. His master, Magister Horonno was thin man, dressed in a long grey woolen robe, wearing black polished shoes fit for a nobleman. He had a stern face and few curly locks peeked out under his hat which matched with his robe. The fact that he was quite unhealthily skinny only exaggerated his stern expression which reminded the young man of a skull.

"This one here," his master said curtly, while looking into the young man's cell. He was followed by two bulky guards, who opened the door, and promptly grabbed the silverheaded young man, and brought him in front of his master.

​

"My prized High Valyrian," his master started, "soon you are to be sold." The young man looked onto him with a blank expression, his purple eyes lacking any sign of emotion. "This one is becoming a good slave i'nnit?" said one of the soldiers behind his master's back to which master Horonno only nodded.

"I have arranged your escort to the river docks of Volon Therys where a slave ship from Yunkai will pick you up. From then on, I do not give a rat's arse what becomess of you." The young man still stared blankly at his master. The master continued, "Do you want to know what they offered for a High Valyrian?" The young man looked at the floor. "Three hundred gold dragons. Three hundred! Just because you, my dear boy have a silver head." He paused for a moment and looked onto the young man. "Silverhead... that's your slave name. Heck, I should start dyeing the hair of my other slaves silver, and sell them off as your spawn. The spawn of Silverhead the Valyrian .." Happy with his remark, and lack of answer form the young man, he gestured to his guards to take Silverhead away.

***
While young Silverhead was waiting on the river docks of Volon Therys for the Yunkai slavaeship, he looked around the bustling city and felt there was an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
First of all, of course the fact that he was to be sold to Yunkai, that was a reason on its own to be worried. How would he survive in Yunkai, why would the masters of Yunkai pay such a high price for him? All these questions made him feel more uneasy and even a bit queasy.
Suddenly there was the ring of a bell. And another one, followed by another one. From the distance a lone horserider was approaching, frantically waving with his hand. The two guards who had escorted young Silverhead to the docks looked at each other in confusion. As the horserider was approaching, the bells did not stop ringing. A murmur could be heard from the distance, then an echo, and another ring of the bell. When the horserider had almost reached Silverhead and his companions the three of them could start making out what the horserider was yelling.

"A raid! A raid! The Dothraki are here! Flee while you still can!"

The messenger screamed at the top of his lungs while riding through the city of Volon Therys without stopping. The guards looked at each other with disbelief, but soon enough rumbling could be heard as a black approaching wall appeared over the horizon. "He wasn't shittin'! Run for yer life!" one of the guards screamed. "What about the Valyrian," the other one replied. "Leave the runt for the crows ," the first one replied while hastily grabbing his companion by the arm.
The men were off. The Yunkai slavers were nowhere near the docks, and the city was soon to be sacked by the Dothraki horselords. Now's my chance! Silverhead thought as he ran from the docks with his hands still cuffed.

Silverhead had never ran so fast in his life. The rumbling got louder and louder, and soon the Dothraki were in the city of Volon Therys bringing death and destruction everywhere their sword reached. The edge of their blade combined with the swiftness of their horses was a deadly recipe.

Silverhead ran among the narrow riverbank, and bounced into a narrower alley to avoid the Dothraki horses. He had to think of a plan, how to escape. While running he thought of the route via which he was brought in, and decided to opt for a guessgame along the narrow streets of Volon Therys.
He ran past the stands of smalltime merchants who had just a day ago been peddling their wares to annoyed passers by. While running he glanced a brothel in the corner of his eye whic he decided to promptly visit.
He battered down the door of the brothel with his shoulder, causing himself immense pain and landing on the hard stone floor. Gasps filled the small room meant for hedonism and debauchery. Quickly he rose up only to see the frightened whores who at first thought him to be a raping and pillaging Dothraki, but calmed as soon as they saw his silver hair.

A way out, a way out, a way out, he thought while frantically moving his eyes around the room over the frightened whores, until he saw a staircase in the right corner of the room. Quickly he ran towards it, using all of his stamina to run up the stairs, and into another room, where a dark-skinned frightened whore was hiding. I need to find another-, his thoughts paused as he saw a window. With his hands still cuffed he ran to the window and glanced down. It seemed to be about his height from the roof another house. Surely he could make the jump. He ran back into the room, facing the wall, turned quickly, and much to the dismay of the crying dark-skinned whore, launched himself out of the window, landing on the roof below.

Silverhead's body was aching. His hands were bruised, he was almost sure he had fractured a leg or his shoulder, but he still stood up, stubborn even in the face of death and pain. He looked towards the town of Volon Therys, and saw it had been lit ablaze, with flames reaching higher than the roof of the whorehouse he had just reluctantly visited. It was a dreadful sight - the cries of children and women, clanking of metal, pillars of smoke rising to the sky, embers falling from atop roofs, debris laying around from the charge, and pools of blood flowing through the streets.

After a short period of thought and what little rest he could have had, he looked towards the central city with another goal. His "lodgings", or more like his dungeon had been in the central city, and could be seen a little through the pillars of smoke rising towards the sky. It is a matter of life and death, he thought, I have to run towards the city center, it is the only route I know to the city gates. As the sound of battle grew fainter, and the cries of men, women and children grew louder, Silverhead thought that the city had been lost, and the Dothraki were now only capturing citizens, and enjoying the women. He had to escape. He started with a brisk walk, and slowly forced himself to run, ignoring the immense pain in every region of his body. He continued his run to freedom carefully among the rooftops, and his slender build helped him in this task.

He felt that he was getting closer to the city center, running through the smoke, inhaling it all, choking, and coughing, but still running, evading every and all obstacles in his path, but then he came upon a gap between two buildings. What now? What now? What now? He thought. I can't jump this! It's impossible... But ... but I have to try! He retraced his steps, and ran towards the ledge, feeling the full encumbarence of the handcuffs on his wrists.
In midair, he saw that he had jumped too early. He landed with his chest hitting the ledge with a stinging pain, his elbows on the edge fo the roof, but the impact was so strong, that he choked, he seized to breathe for a moment, losing all stamina gods had granted him, and fell to the narrow alley below, right through the roof of the stall of another smalltime merchant which had been set up next to the wall.

He yet again gathred his strength and slowly, while covering his mouth with the inside of his elbow started limping away from the main street, trying to keep himself from being seen, but he was sure that the chaos, dust, debris, fire and smoke hid him well enough. It felt like he was descening into hell, what with all the embers, smoke and dust, but he still kept limping. Even if he had to crawl out of this place, he was going to try.
He was nearing the gate through which he had been brought into Volon Therys, and he was hoping that the gate had not been shut when the Dothraki arrived, or all would be lost. Slowly he limped, and soon enough there it was;
The grand city gate, open, with smoke escaping through it. On the street in front of him lay dismembered arms and legs, heads and grossly bloodied bodies. Young Silverhead turned his face away, but continued limping.
The main bulk of the Dothraki raiders was still occupied with the central city, but little bands had broken out into other parts, no doubt in hopes of finding slaves, concubines or gold. Silverhead had just been a slave this morning, he would not become one again.

While focusing his gaze on the city gate, he felt the world freeze, his heartbeat was beginning to feel slower, and slower, until it almost stopped. His hands started to sweat, but he furrowed his brow. A sprint, he thought in his transcendental state of perception. A sprint is all I need to perform. I need to overcome this pain within my body, or I will not live another day. A sprint. A sprint ... A sprint ......

Silverhead felt his muscles contract, he felt his heartbeat getting faster, like it was about to jump out of his chest, and land into the pools of blood in front of him, it was beating so hard.
Oh, it was beating so hard, he had to make it. I HAVE TO MAKE IT! He thought to himself, as every muscle in his body co-operated and gave all it had to give, his perception of pain faded and he made a mad dash towards the city gates, passing a loitering, yet observant Dothraki, who was slowly leading his horse along the curve of the street through the pools of blood.
He passed that slowest of Dothrakis, making it outside of the city walls, tripping on a stone, stumbling, rolling down a hill, screaming in agony, breaking his leg, promptly losing conciousness thanks to the sheer amount of pain his body had to endure and landing in the water of the river with a loud splash, only to be carried away by the current among the bodies which the Dothraki had dumped into the river.

 

[Romulus X]

Chapter II : The silverhead, the fisherman, his brother & her husband​

Narbo the fisherman was minding his own business, when a plethora of bodies washed ashore. Again, he thought, not this again, but at the same time he was happy, because if the Dothraki had only dumped the bodies into the river, then maybe a few of those pockets carried gold.
Pretty soon he was yet again walking along the shore, stripping every body, and tugging with him a crude wooden cart on which he placed his plunder. He was not a pious man, no, but he was certainly not evil. The way he figured it, the dead had no use of such things like money, luxury or comfort.
He smiled as he got another few gold dragons out of the pockets of another corpse. Every cloud has a silver lining, he thought, when he saw something glimmer on the shore near the rocks. Oh my, oh my, it could be silverware! he thought, as he was grotesguely prancing towards the glimmer, tugging his crude, creaking cart with him.
Alas, it was not silverware, but hair. Hair the likes he had never seen before with his own eyes. Sure he knew, that the Targaryens were famous for silver-grey hair, but he imagined it much more unflattering than it was, like old-lady hair. But as a matter of fact, it was quite beautiful in his opinion. He slowly made his way towards the corpse with glimmering hair. When he arrived, he saw it was a young man, barely 19 name days old or so, but badly bruised, with his nose broken, and who knows what more. Then he grunted, for he had left his cart behind him. Quickly he went back, and came again to rob the dead of what they need not.
He dragged the body a little bit more on dry land, and then noticed - the boy had irons around his wrist. Poor lad, a slave ... what an unfortunate end. This one can't have anything valuable on hims then, he thought, and started to drag the body back into the river, so it could make more room for more bodies to come. He hoisted the glimmerhead, and firmly wrapped both of his arms around him, starting to drag him back into the river.
He would have made it all the way to the river, if he hadn't quickly yanked his arms away as soon as he heard the glimmerhead groan. With a splash the young man landed back into the water.

"C'me again?" Narbo said. Another groan was his answer. "My god!" Narbo exclaimed. "You're, you're alive!" He would have poked the stranger with a stick if he had one in hand, but sadly he did not. He frowned, but he felt it his duty to hoist the groaning stranger on his cart. So he did, and left for home.

"Beth! Beth! Beth!" Narbo screamed. "C'mere! I got one of em' Targaryen glimmereads o'er ere'!"

"What did you say?" a woman, probably in 40 name days appeared on the doorframe of a small hovel.
"A Targaryen?" "Uh-huh," Narbo nodded. "Methinks it's a Targaryen, just look at em' silver strands."

"My god," Beth exclaimed. "We need to carry him inside. "Yeh, we better do, before e's stars groanin' again."

It took almost three weeks before the glimmerhead started showing any other signs of life than breathing and a rare ominous groan.
Narbo did not commend him for that, because the lad was clearly badly hurt. He had grazed off almost all flesh on his lower left leg, fractured the bone beneath, broken his nose, brusied his back, his chest, and what's more, he had been soaking in the water for who knows how long.
Narbo thought he was a goner, but one day the stranger opened his eyes. Even though he didn't seem to be able to move them. Blankly the glimmerhead's eyes stared into nothingness. There came another groan, and he fell asleep soon after.
Meanwhile Beth had done her best to heal all of the wounds the stranger had suffered, and maybe even keep him fed if need be.
He woke again the next day, and stared blankly the same way he had before. This time however, he could move his lips.

"Sss - sss ... sss.. ooo..." came a hushed tone.

Beth lowered herself over the glimmerhead.

"ooo.... -uupp..."

The glimmerhead barely had any stregth to say just one word, but Beth understood. He wanted soup. What little Beth and Narbo could gather they served to the stranger, and he drank it out of the bowl.
A few more weeks later, and the stranger could even talk. They pestered him for all sorts of questions, and partly to their disappointment the stranger let them know, that he was not a Targaryen, and partly to their joy, he truly was not a Targaryen. He was a decent enough houseguest to have. Another few weeks later when he could sit, he asked.

"Is there any possibility I could have the irons around my wrists removed discreetly?"

"Was' e' sayin'?"

"He wants to get rid of his handcuffs. Without others knowing."

The stranger nodded.

"O yeh' m'brother's a blacksmith in this ere' village, e' can remove em' ugly irons around yerrists."

The stranger nodded yet again.

"So it is settled then," Beth complied. "As soon as you are capable of walking we will take you to Oro, the blacksmith, Narbo's brother."

"Th - thank you." The stranger said.

"But," Beth added, "we will be doing it in the dark of the night. Meanwhile you should really wear something to cover up your hair, we don't want others to confuse you for a Targaryen, now would we," Beth chuckled, as she handed the glimmerhead, now knows as Silverhead a black cowl and a cloak.

About three days later Narbo woke Silverhead up with a grin. "M'lord, s' time we go pay a visit to my borther Oro."

During the day Silverhead was capable of walking around on his own accord, although limping, but Beth suspected the limping would never heal.

Narbo and Silverhead made their way through the night to Oro's smithery, where the borther was waiting.

"Eyy, Narbo, me borther, dis' de' shiny bellond?"

"Likewise, brother, s' been too long. Aye, s' the glimmerhead."

Silverhead looked at the two men with a dignified look. "I'd prefer to be called Silverhead, if you don't mind"

"S'cuse m'lord," Oro, bowed, rather sarcastically.

"Don't mind me brother, e's always been a cunt." Narbo said, while smacking his borther on the back.

However cunt he may have been, Oro fulfilled his promise, and rid Silverhead of his handcuffs. At last! Freedom! Silverhead touched and massaged his wrists, "Thank you!" he exclaimed, as Narbo gave him a gleeful look.

Silverhead stayed with Narbo and Beth for two more weeks, before finally setting on his slow and dangerous path to Pentos, with memories of the kind helping souls in Volantis.

 

[Romulus X]

Chapter III : One of a kind kind man in Pentos

Silverhead took great care, and arrived in Pentos, Nontelos a year later, where he was recieved by an old family friend Allaquo Myrakis.
About 200 years ago Silverhead's ancestors were a lowly house in the Valyrian Freehold. When The Doom happened, most of his family line perished, albeit some survived.
His family had had a close friend going by the name of Myrakis. When The Doom happened, one of Silverhead's ancestors was able to recover their family line's valyrian steel sword, and saw it safely returned to House Myrakis in Pentos, Nontelos, where it has remained ever since.
Silverhead had always been a slave, as far back as he could remember, but at last he was a free man, ready to make his own destiny.

​

Allaquo Myrakis was a kind and noble man, one fit to be a knight. He was a great fighter, and saw that Silverhead needed more tutoring, since as a slave, he had not recieved any formal education, and the years of torture and abuse had left a mark on the young man.
He taught Silverhead how to handle a sword himself, and when he saw that Silverhead had excelled in his studies, he gave him his family's ancestral sword. He had his own steward teach Silverhead how to handle coin and taxes. When he saw, that Silverhead had problems expressing his thoughts correctly, he had his diplomats teach him how to talk formally, and his spymaster how to handle the intrigue of court.
Which is more, Allaquo formally adopted Silverhead, saying: "It's never too late to learn or have a father," and gave him a proper Valyrian name, Mero. Since Allaquo Myrakis was a widow he did not have the desire to get married, and thus granted a noble title to Mero, again a proper Valyrian high noble name which had belonged to his kin in the Valyrian Freehold. His name was now Mero Hepastys.


One day, when Mero was already 30 name days of age, and Allaquo 53, he called upon Mero to discuss serious matters.

"Enter, my dear boy," he had said with a kind voice, which had become sort of a character trait to him.

"Mero, I am the patrician of the Free City of Pentos."

"I am aware, my lord father."

"And as such I have land here in Nontelos," he tapped on a map, he had rolled open in front of Mero on the table. "I am to govern the city of Nontelos, Mero, but Alas, I have no heir."

"It's truly sad." Mero complied.

"I have pondered this thought much, you know," Allaquo stood up, "and I am naming you as my rightful heir, the mayor of the city of Nontelos and my family palace."

"My lord," Mero gasped.

"Mero, you have grown up to be a true man. A man worth his name and, I trust you not to ruin it when I am gone?"

"Of course, my lord father!"

"Good. I can feel my passing into the afterlife is coming. The Lord of Light shall take me, for the night is dark and full of terrors."

With a nod, Mero had left Allaquo's private rooms. Soon enough in 8129, Allaquo Myrakis died at the ripe old age of 54 name days. Mero was therefore to take over his business in Nontelos and Ar Kon, the governing of the city of Nontelos, and the castle of Nontelos, and the former family mansion of House Myrakis, now named the House of Hepastys.
For his banner Mero chose something that resonated with him and his memories of hardship, turmoil, perserverence, and grit. His standard bears a silver armoured leg on a red background, symbolising his mad dash to freedom through the gates of Volon Therys with the silver colour to reminding him of his slavename "Silverhead", or as Narbo used to call him "Glimmerhead".
The red background symbolises the sacking of Volon Therys by the Dothraki, and the blood which was spilled on the streets that day, but what is more - the day, that Mero of House Hepastys gained his freedom at great costs.

Now the banner waves on the cliffs of Nontelos, and in the city of Pentos, on the walls of his family mansion. As the quiet wind sweeps over the mansion of Hepastys, the limping Valyrian master retires to his bedchambers to spend the night alone. As waves crash on the shores of Pentos, and night casts its dark shadow over Essos, the dragons dance in Westeros, and no man nor woman can tell the future of house Hepastys.

*author's note: None of the events depicted in the prologue actually happened in the game, as can be expected. ​

 

[stnylan]

A most excellent prologue giving some interesting back-story of how things come to be at the start.

Welcome also to AAR-writing. I hope you have a very good with your AAR.

 

[Romulus X]

A most excellent prologue giving some interesting back-story of how things come to be at the start.

Welcome also to AAR-writing. I hope you have a very good with your AAR.

Thank you very much! New chapter incoming soon!

 

[Romulus X]

LORD MERO HEPASTYS

Chapter I: The limping, wifeless merchant of Nontelos​

​

Lord Mero was quietly sitting in the cabinet of his mansion, while slowly spinning a gold dragon between his fingers, his tired purple eyes looking into nothingness, and slender boney fingers almost clicking against the coin.
He was staring at a parchment, which had been rolled open on his desk, the same way one was, when his lord father notified Mero of his descision to designate him as his heir.
After the passing of Allaquo Myrakis, Mero took over his business in the city Of Nontelos and Ar Kon, where the Myrakis family had built tradeposts about ten years ago. The parchment, which laid on Mero's desk was a report on his family's financial situation, and while looking at it, Mero felt pleased.
The tradeposts built on the orders of his lord father brought in a revenue of 9,34 dragons each per month. The sum of both tradeposts was 18,68 dragons, he calculated. But this was purely income. He shifted eyes towards the bottom edge of the parchment. A bulk of this money would go to his courtiers, captains, and servants for their services - 11,67 dragons, to be percise. And another 0,50 dragons was used every month to maintain his mansion, and army. The total of expenses for Mero was 12,17 dragons, putting his family at a balance of +5,05 dragons per month.


Suddenly the large ornate dark wooden door of his lord father's mansion opened, and through those doors entered a middle-aged man with a red beard and quite noble clothes. With him he had a rolled up parchment, which he victoriously held up high above his head, declaring:


"I found it, my lord!"

The man who had entered was none other but Ordello, Mero's Lord Treasurer and Golden Scales of Trade.
Ordello was little bit like a spy, but his trade was not assassination and kidnapping, but rather statistical information about the trade posts, and political standings of other patrician families.
The parchment which Ordello had been searching for about two hours had made him quite angry. He did not approve of his new stuck-up High Valyrian lord, but he was too stubborn to admit defeat to his own absentmindedness, or tendency to misplace important documents.
Which is more, if he hadn't been able to recover the document in question, Lord Mero would have probably either relieved Ordello of his duties as the Lord Treasurer, or ordered him to draft a new one immediately, and neither of these options seemed pleasant for him.


"I wrote it shortly before the passing of Lord Allaquo Myrakis," Ordello explained, while unrolling the parchment on Mero's desk.

On it were written the names of each family in bold scripture. Narratys, D'han, Myrakis, Thelis, and Estatis. Under every name was the head patriarch of the family, their political standing in the realm, owned tradeposts, their locations, and estimated income.


"Thank you, this will be most helpful," Mero said, while looking at the parchment, and then towards Ordello.


"Do you have any other tasks for me, my lord?"


"Yes, I am sending you around the province of Pentos to collect taxes. I have arranged you secure lodgings in four locations in major settlements in Pentos. Which is more, I order another report to be written in one year."


"Yes, of course, my lord," Ordello bowed, and left the cabinet. As the two monolithic ornate door slammed shut, Mero looked at the parchment.

"A record composed by Lord Treasurer Ordello, as ordered by Lord Allaquo Myrakis, mayor of the city of Nontelos, and Ar Kon, patrician of House Myrakis on 23. of March 129 AL, completed in 30. of March 129 AL.


House Narratys;


Coat of arms; a bright red portcullis on a white background.


Patriarch of family; Denyo Narratys, De Facto Magister of the Free City of Pentos.

Number of tradeposts owned; 1 in Pentos estimated revenue 15 - 18 dragons.


House D'han;


Coat of arms; split in the middle, on one half a green sapling on a gold background, and on the other hald a gold sapling on a green background.


Patriarch of family; Myrmello D'han, expected successor for the position of Magister of the Free City of Pentos.


Number of tradeposts owned; 1 in the province of The Great Arm, tapping into the trade of the Bay of Pentos, estimated revenue 9 - 12 dragons.


House Myrakis;


Coat of arms; two pairs of white birds, beak to beak on a crimsom background.


Patriarch of family; Allaquo Myrakis, third in line to the succession of the positsion of Magister of the Free City of Pentos after Myrmello D'han.


Number of tradeposts owned; 2 in the provinces of Nontelos and Ar Kon, bringing in a revenue of 9,34 dragons each, 18,68 dragons in total.


House Thelis;


Coat of arms; a white ship helm on a pink background.


Patriarch of family; Izembaro Thelis, second in line to the succession of the positsion of Magister of the Free City of Pentos after Myrmello D'han.


Number of tradeposts owned; 1 in the province of Prince's Shore, bringing in a revenue of 10 - 11 dragons.


House Estatis;


Coat of arms; green fist in the middle of two green flames on a yellow background.


Patriarch of family; Collio Estatis, the weakest opponent in future election.


Number of tradeposts owned; 1 in the province of Velvet March bringing in a revenue of no more than 8 dragons.


Signed,
Ordello, Lord Treasurer of Nontelos, faithful servant of House Myrakis."

Mero sighed, and again a blank expression formed on his face. He was not entirely sure why he sighed, but it seemed like the right thing to do in this situation. Almost every courtier in his court was a lowborn, and here he was, counting the coin of the Myrakis' family, playing lord, living in their mansion, eating their food, governing their lands ... he sighed again.
It may have been because he felt he was a hypocrite. Maybe he sighed because he was already tired of counting and governing? Maybe he sighed because his left foot caused him immense periodical pain. Or maybe ... maybe he sighed because he had yet to get married? Whatever it was, he intended to find it out.
Slowly he stood up from behind his cabinet's table, and limped across the darkly lit room to the monolithic doors.

​

Red Priest Areo Mopatis of Nontelos was just what his title suggested, but he never made much use of this. He had been tutored to become a priest, and he even wore the robes of one, but through some crude game of fate, and chance he had ended up as a very incompetent seneschal of Nontelos.

Mero did not really mind his incompetancy, but made a mental note to replace him later on. It was more important for Mero to seek out councillors who approved of Mero's rule, and it seemed like Areo was one of them.

Just as Mero was about to reach the chambers of Areo, there was a loud, thundering explosion, which rocked the walls around him as smoke started to seep out from under Areo's door.
A plethora of loud and angry curse words could be heard from the other side of the door, as could be the breaking of glass, moving hinges, and quick-paced footsteps. The red priest was up to something.

Mero opened the door, only to be met with a puff of smoke, and an angry Areo, who had just drawn a dagger from under his long red robes, yelling:

"Who's that? I will stick you, if you come any closer!"

"It's your lord, Mero Hepastys!" the Valyrian shouted, half-coughing due to the smoke in the room.

"My lord .. ?" the priest cried, while sheathing his dagger, and falling to his knees. "I did not know it was you! Please forgive me!"

"I will forgive you, when you explain, what is going on here."

The priest glanced at Mero, and hesitated for a second, while he was standing up.

"Well, I am sure your lordship has heard of darkfyre."

"I can recall some snippets from when Lord Allaquo used to tutor me."

"Basically, it's like dragonfire. A deadly weapon meant for burning your enemies alive, and their ships afloat."

"And you were making that ... inside my lord father's mansion?"

"Y - yes, your lordship."

He saw from Mero's expression, that he was readying to call the guards to arret him.

"Wait!" the priest yelled, "wait!" Lord Mero looked a him.

"Master Allaquo always funded my projects, before he passed on. It was kept secret from everybody, and for the most part I have managed to avoid explosions like these."

"For the most part ..." Mero looked at the priest, having calmed down, remembering an incident when he was 23 name days of age, and an explosion woke him up during the night.

The priest took a chair, and offered it to the lord, so he could sit, and rest his leg.

"It's not getting better," he noted.

Mero looked at him. He remembered full well, when this same priest was doubling as a physician for lord Allaquo, and tried to heal his broken leg. He had done an adequete job, but the miles which Mero had had to limp with his broken leg had done their own job, and so he was still haunted by periodic stings of pain, like somebody was sticking a sword in his leg, and then pulling it out, only to do it five minutes later again.

"Surely your lordship is here for another reason than to spy on me."

"I did," Mero replied, sitting on the chair, leaning on his walking stick. "You are a red priest,"

"Yes I am, but so is Ordello."

"Indeed, but I see far less disgust in your eyes than Ordello's"

"I am honoured," the priest said, and took a bow.

"I desire to get married," Mero said, while closely observing the priest.

"Oh? Well of course," the priest said, and looked away for a moment, only to look back at Mero again.

"Are you capable of making me a list of potential bride candidates as quickly as you can?"

"Yes, of course, my lord, I will start with it immediately."

"Good," Mero replied, inching himself off the chair, and standing up. "One more thing," he said while heading towards the exit.

"Yes, my lord?"

"No more darkfyre experiments on in your chambers. If you want to experiment, you have to move your equipment to the cellars."

"So you are not forbidding my experimentations?"

"No I am not. But if another explosion happens on the upper levels, I swear to god, I will take your head."

"Duly noted," the priest bowed, with his red hood flapping about.

Mero nodded at the priest's reaction, and made his way out of his chambers, smelling like sulphur, and smoke.

 

[stnylan]

Of course, too large an explosion in the cellars might not be good either.

I must confess to chuckling during the digression about him sighing. That was deftly written.

 

[EymerichTheDeacon]

So we're an essosi Merchant...Mh, we'll become High Triarch of New Valyria? or we'll get burned out by our explosion after that ;D I'm following by now

 

[Romulus X]

So we're an essosi Merchant...Mh, we'll become High Triarch of New Valyria? or we'll get burned out by our explosion after that ;D I'm following by now

Thank you very much! I will upload a new chapter probably tomorrow. Stay tuned! Same valyrian time, same valyrian channel!

 

[Henry v. Keiper]

First, I'm flattered that I inspired you to write an AAR yourself!

Second, excellent start so far, and I will definitely subscribe.

 

[Romulus X]

First, I'm flattered that I inspired you to write an AAR yourself!

Second, excellent start so far, and I will definitely subscribe.

Thank you so very much! I am truly honoured to have you on my thread, considering I am a new writer, and all. Welcome aboard, and I hope you get as much joy out of reading this as I did when I wasreading House Threedrop and Valyrian Steel.

New chapter coming soon!

 

[Romulus X]

Chapter II : Is war brewing?

​

A young lightly armoured man with a brown hood covering his blonde hair was sitting in a dark damp room, filled to the brim with all sorts of shiny instruments meant for butchering, gutting and dismembering people.
At first it had been quite an unpleasant room, but after eight years of service the walls seemed almost welcoming.
He was sitting on a chair with his legs resting on the table, gnawing on a piece of meat he had smuggled to work in a little burlap sack. When anybody asked what it was, he'd act like it was some sort of armory-related-stuff. He was no spymaster by any means, but he took a small ammount of pride in the feat, because he had been doing this for nearly three years, and never had he got caught in the act.
He figured that having this job was better than having no job at all, besides this position reserved him a seat on the council of Mero Hepastys himself. He wasn't much intrigued by the political games important men played, sheltered by closed doors, sitting behind a big table in a dimly lit room, trading away freedoms and citizens, no. But he fancied the shiny valyrian steel sword Mero brought with him to every single meeting.
While all this went through his head, he reached for the burlap sack which was resting on the cold floor of the armory. A piece of meat was not the only thing he had smuggled in. While reaching for the sack, he saw a dark shadowy figure appear in the doorway, and he smoothly retracted his arm, leaving it pretty awkwardly hanging to his side, like it had just lost all function and muscle power.


"Ahh, enjoying a nice little bottle of Dornish red?" the shadowy figure said, slowly emerging through the doorway, "or another alcoholic beverage of your choosing?" the figure asked, slowly walking towards the young man, with his dark blue robe covering the entirety of his legs, making it seem like he was floating towards the young man.
"Oh Ternesio - Ternesio - Ternesio ... what would Lord Master Mero say? He would surely have you beheaded, getting drunk on your post like this, it makes you seem," he paused, "untrustworthy."

​

"Actually," Ternesio averted his gaze from the approaching shadowy figure while taking his legs off the table, "I am only drinking water, m'lord."
The man who had entered was none other than Gyloro Myrakis, the cousin of the late lord Allaquo Myrakis, and current spymaster of Nontelos.


"No use in lying," the spymaster moved his finger side-to-side like a pendelum, holding his hand in front of Ternesio's face, "one of my little birds saw you knick a bottle of beer from the warehouse."


"Oh ... that one? Well, that one.. that one... yes. I knicked it."


The spymaster looked at Ternesio, feeling glee, that once again, he had brought despair to those who were less skilled in matters of the court.


"No matter," Gyloro turned his back to Ternesio, slowly walking away from him, looking over his right shoulder, seeing and feeling Ternesio's eyes slowly crawl up his back, "this is not the reason I am here." He suddenly stopped, quickly turning around with their eyes meeting in the middle of the room. If a flash of lightning could appear from such an event, it would happened just about now, "I trust you have performed your duties despite the bottle in that burlap sack?"


"Aye - aye, I have," a cold chill went down Ternesio's spine.


"And would you please let me know, what is the current state of the army of House Hepastys?"


"We would be able to field an army numbering 4000 heads."


"Does this include the Lord's personal guard?" The spymaster stared at Ternesio without averting his gaze, eyes piercing through any mask a would-be liar or victim could form to shield themselves from Gyloro's knives, only to be struck in the heart.


"m.. m'lord," Ternesio felt blood flowing to his face, "the Lord's personal guard is mobilized only in the face of a serious threat," he quickly sputtered, being viciously stabbed by the spymaster's eyes.


"I am aware of that, but it would be very wise of you to fill your duty, and be ready for any threat, be it small or big."


"Well, with the personal guard," Ternesio scratched his head, looking at the ceiling, partly to avert his gaze, and partly to crunch the numbers, "we'd have an army numbering about 4100 heads."


""That's something, is it not?" the spymaster said, putting his arms together, and resting them below his groin against his hips, slightly lifting his head, making himself look more dignified than he actually was.


"This might indeed give us an advantage in battle," Ternesio paused for a second, leaning forward, "lord spymaster Gyloro," his eyes darted from one side to the other, as he said in a hushed tone, "is there a war brewing?"


"You should not worry yourself with such matters," the spymaster answered with an arrogant tone, "after all you are only the master-at-arms of Nontelos," he added sarcastically while a grotesgue grin formed on his face, waiting for Ternesio's reaction, ready to destroy the lowborn soldier with his words which stung like a serpent's "kiss".


Even though Ternesio understood the insult regarding his competancy in his job, he decided reluctantly not to act on it. Instead he only said,


"very well, I understand," to which the spymaster's face gave no sign of emotion,


"very well indeed, I shall take my leave," and Gyloro slowly floated across the room, opening the bulky reinforced wooden door and left the armory without the door making no other sound than a slight creak, disappearing into the shadows of the mansion.


Ternesio had never managed to open or close the door like that. Whenever he opened the door, it sounded like the launches of great ships in Pentos sounded; the crackling of wood, a low murmur as the ship rolled over logs placed underneath the hull, the whissing of ropes, crashes of stones falling on ground and creaking pulleys followed by a loud splash and the cheers of bystanders. All this, but condensed in a few precious seconds.


Thinking of precious seconds, Ternesio returned to his table and placed the bottle of ale on his desk, swiftly opening it and pouring the contents down his throat. Suddenly the room felt a lot warmer.

 

[stnylan]

A very intimidating visit.

 

[Romulus X]

A very intimidating visit.

Indeed. Gyloro might play a big role in the events to come.

 

[Henry v. Keiper]

A new writer, you say? Well, this is far better than many "new writings" I've come across.

 

[Romulus X]

A new writer, you say? Well, this is far better than many "new writings" I've come across.

I am very flattered! :O

 

[Romulus X]

Chapter III : The beautiful rose of Tyrosh
​

Qarria Ryndoon was the kind of woman foolish, inexperienced courtiers would call a beautiful soft delicate rose. And while it was true that she was quite beautiful with luscious green flowing locks, and a pale symmetrical face, her entourage consisting of hanmaidens and dozens of servants and slaves knew better.
They used to say that while she may be a rose, she was no delicate rose, but in fact posessed thorns the size of swords and as sharp as the teeth of the legendary Targaryen dragons.


She was surrounded by luxury on all sides, gold and silver across the room, shelves and cabinets decorated with ornate engravings of flowers and dragons.
On those cabinets were lines of books, filled with ancient knowledge, historical events, sacred texts - all of which she had read through several times. But the ones about Aegon's conquest or the Ghiscari wars, those were the ones which fascinated her the most, causing much dismay to her father when she had tried to read books at night, using only natural moonlight, resisting every order to go to sleep.
But with her Qarria carried another book, which many were unaware of. Over the years she had developed a habit of carrying it around with her in any concealed way she could think of - her favourite being hiding the little book in her bosom. That way nobody could ever get a hold of it without her knowing, and she would always have it with her at all times.


The book was the size of a little pocket, binded with dark leather, bearing no title. Inside it, on the worn pages were written instructions on how to manipulate courtiers and vassals, how to mix poison, steal information, forge documents, hire an assassin, pray to the stranger, and many other tips and tricks. The book was so full of information that it had to be written in very fine script so all information would fit between its black covers. If the book was brand new the last pages would be empty, but this was not the case. Over the years these dark covers had grown to safeguard many names, schematics, secrets and scraps of information.


Suddenly the door opened, and Qarria quickly turned around to face the intruder.


"I hope I did not frighten you my lady," a young boy, barely 13 name days of age with short golden hair stuck his head into the room, "I came only to inform you that we have arrived in Pentos."


"Oh no, it's quite alright, I wasn't frightened at all," Qarria replied, having recovered from the initial shock.


"Very well, my lady, the carriage of House Hepastys with the lord's personal guard is waiting for you on the docks," and with that the young boy closed the door, and took his leave.



Hearing the footsteps of the boy getting farther from her cabin, she took her book from her bosom. Dangling from the book was a tiny dip pen, which had been tied to the book with a short string of leather. She took the book in her hand, and reached down to her waist to return a little vial with black liquid in it. After having stuck the pen into the vial, and recharged the pen, she opened her book, flicking to the last pages, and wrote in a very fine script: "cabin boy does not know how to knock," after which she shut the book, hid the vial to her waist, and stuck the book with the pen safely to rest between her breasts, so that nobody else would even know it was there.


The ship had arrived in port, and the crewmen bearing the standard of House Ryndoon were throwing ropes on the docks below. This was a fascinating sight for Qarria who had learned about nautical terms while they were still at sea. The captain who was yelling for his right hand man, called first mate had to order the slaves below deck to stop "rowing the sweeps." Qarria knew that sweeps were large oars meant for maneuvering in crowded trade ports such as Pentos or Tyrosh. She also knew that the ropes which had been thrown down by the crewmen were called heaving lines, meant to reel the ship close to port so the hull would collide with the pier, allowing a ramp to be set up safely between ground and the deck.


"Throw the hawser, get ready to heave!" the captain shouted, and the first mate relayed this order to the crewmen.


A squad of men ran to the front of the ship, called the bow, and took hold of a thick rope with a large noose on the end of it. The rope was coiled around a big cylinder with handles on top, Qarria observed, as it was tossed over board. The hawser landed on the pier with a loud wooden thunk, as dock workers ran in to place the noose so it held on to a mooring bollard which was embedded in the pier. The captain overseeing this with his squinty eagle eyes, turned to his men, and shouted,


"Heave!" and the sqaud of men, holding on to the handles on top of the cylinder started walking and pushing,


"heave!" the captain shouted again, as the ship's bow got closer to land.


"brace for impact!" with a loud thundering crackle the hull of the ship collided with the pier, sending everybody except the captain, the first mate, and Qarria off their footing to stumble and hit the floor boards. The ship had been docked and moored.


Qarria Ryndoon stepped on the ramp which had been set up between the pier and the ship. She would have wanted to stay longer, perhaps learn more nautical terms from the captain, but she knew that others were waiting for her.
Down on the docks she could see a group of people, and among them knights on horseback whom were flying banners blazened with the standard of House Hepastys - a white armoured leg on a red background. In the middle of the formation of knights was a robust looking carriage, also blazened with the standard of House Hepastys.
Qarria walked slowly at the front and she was being followed by servants, along whom was walking the young cabin boy who had failed to knock, and she had not forgot. Behind the servants came squads of four men carrying large heavy chests, some filled with books, others filled with clothes and one filled with gold for the treasury of her new husband.

​

As they reached the carriage standing on the docks, a man dressed in a red and white uniform bowed, and opened the door of the coach. Qarria presumed him to be the headservant of House Hepastys.


As Qarria stepped into the carriage a man was already present. Seein Qarria climb up, he offered his hand, saying: "my lady Qarria Ryndoon."
The man was about 30 name days of age with silver-grey hair and purple eyes. His hair was covered by a black hat with various colours of feathers protruding from it. His chest was covered by a crimsom red doublet with golden patterns which went down to his waist, but turned white from the shoulders on, running down to his wrists, ending with white fluffy sashes.
Around his waist he had a fine leather band. His legs were covered by short red breeches which ended right above his knees to be taken over by white tights reaching to the end of his legs. Around his ankles were tight-fitting black shoes with a golden buckle on top of them.
Between his legs he was holding what seemed like a walking stick with the silver top resembling a dragon's head with its mouth open and teeth on display. The shaft was painted black and ended with a silver tip which the man was pushing into the floor of the carriage. This man, Qarria knew was soon to be her husband. His name was Lord Master Mero Hepastys.


The coachman whipped the reins and the carriage started to move with a loud creak coming from the axles.
While getting further away from the docks, Qarria could see waving tyroshi sailors, but she did not wave back. Her unwavering loyalty was to belong to House Hepastys now, and the sooner she could forget about her family and what she had left behin the better it would be for her.


About half an hour later, having passed many other mansions flying banners of different designs, among them a banner with a red portcullis which was flown everywhere, the coachman brought the carriage to a stop in front of the steps of the manison of House Hepastys.
It did not impress her like Lord Master Mero had, because it was far too roubust with only two levels and no statues to welcome arriving visitors. "This is my new home," she reminded herself over and over and over again, lest she forget.


The man dressed in a red and white uniform, whom she had assumed to be the headservant opened the door of the carriage, taking a low bow, and saying: "my lady, we have arrived." The headservant helped Qarria out of the carriage, and shut the door, ordering the coachman to return the carriage to the stables.


Lord Mero arrived next to her, smiling, and saying: "welcome to the mansion of House Hepastys - your new home."
This words struck a blow, because Qarria had not wished to be here. From the moment her father had announced that she was to become the wife of Lord Master Mero Hepastys of Nontelos, she had started to plot her way out of the arrangement.
Perhaps if one of her father's ships never returned to port, he'd take it as a bad oan and maybe call off the wedding? Or maybe she could fall from a horse while practicing riding in Tyrosh, leaving her too infirm to board the ship? Maybe only murder was the option? She would never think of murdering her own father, but an unknown lord in another free city she did not belong to? Perhaps ...


"See lady Qarria to her chambers, and have the dowry transported to the treasury," lord Mero sai, while pointing around the premise, supporting himself with the walking stick Qarria had seen earlier.


"The wedding will take place in two days," an old grey-haired servant said to Qarria, ushering her away from Lord Mero. "We have set up chambers on the second floor's west wing," she continued, leading Qarria through a labyrinth of corridors, stopping in front a large wooden door. "These are your chambers, Lady Qarria," the old woman curtsied, and left.

​

Taking a deep breath, Qarria entered her chambers, expecting to be met with the same unflattering robustness she saw being a key characteristic of the whole mansion, luxuries a little fledgling house with a limping lord could provide.​

The door opened, and she was taken aback. It was nothing like she had expected. It was a beautiful room with tapestries hanging on walls, depicting war camapigns of different periods. At the far side of the room was a big bed with decorated ornate bedposts depicting dragons and fire. The sheets which lay upon the bed were light blue and silky smooth to the touch.

On the other side of the room were three wide windows shaped like candles, providing a view to the bay of Pentos, where merchant ships docked and left on a daily basis. Right now she could see a ship with sails blazened by a green fist in the middle of two green flames on a yellow background being moored into port with the hawser.


The walls were covered with bookshelves, and on those bookshelves were rows of books about historical events - mainly battles, some of which even she hadn't read. There were so many books she was worried how she'd fit her own favourites on the shelves.

She grabbed one of the books she had not read yet, and moved one of the several chairs in the room next to a window in a way that if she sat down with her back to the window, natural sunlight would fall on the pages and kiss her pale neck.

She read until last rays of light started to vanish behind the horizon, and the sun sank in the bay of Pentos.


Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her door. Somebody was trying to open it! Swiftly she got up, accidentally hitting the chair with her elbow, causing a rattle to echo in the room. She ran to the door, and opened it, only to be faced by a great big pile of nothingness. There was nobody behind the door. She took a few steps outside of her room to the corridor and saw the end of a dark blue robe disappearing behind the corner.


Qarria closed the door and retreated to her chambers. She looked around the room, searching for the key to the door.

Many thoughts went through her head, one of which was that she had specifically said that she does not need the help of servants to dress up or undress. She had a suspicion that the dark blue robe disappearing behind the corner had not belonged to a servant.


Having found the key she turned to the door and locked it. Qarria's heart was beating and she took few steps away from the door with her chest still pointed at the door. Having calmed down she reached into her bosom and retrieved the dark book between her breasts, and with it the tiny dip pen tied to the book. As before she reached her hand to her waist and pulled out a small vial with black liquid. After having stuck the dip pen into the liquid, she flicked to the last pages she had written on, and under "cabin boy does not know how to knock," she wrote "lock door at night. Dark blue robe."


She stood in the middle of the room, clutching her notebook for a minute or so, before lettign all her muscles relax. When she felt relatively safe again she took off her dress, and placed it on a chair in the room. After that she slipped of her shoes, and stuck the dark book with the dip pen into the right one, hiding the shoes under her bed. She lowered herself onto the bed, and hid herself between the sheets, thinking to herself:


"lock door at night. Dark blue robe. Lock door at night. Dark blue robe. Lock door-" until she fell asleep looking like the soft, delicate, dethorned rose foolish, inexperienced courtiers had always thought her to be.

 

[Romulus X]

Chapter IV: Suddenly everything fell into place

​

Ternesio was adjusting his cowl. With the moonlight beaming over his face and rainwater landing on the wool, he was observing a couple of dark figures on the docks going about their business.
One of them was a big brawny fellow who seemed quite well-fed and well dressed with arms the size of tree trunks and legs to match. He was a force to be reckoned with, making every movement like a battleship, slowly heaving himself along the docks, picking up a crate, flinging it into the pile - he seemed to move in slow-motion. Quite bizarrely though he had the sweetest voice Ternesio had ever heard, or at least the sweetest voice he had ever heard echoes of, the kind which bakers in Pentos used to lure people into their bakeshops.
Many nights the pair had worked in the moonlight like a waterwheel, slowly but surely making progress. Every evening when the sun sank into the bay of Pentos, the men emerged again with their small ship, docking and unloading, and leaving. They had become sort of like a force of nature to Ternesio. They would have continued what they were doing - arriving on time, working in solemn silence with only a few words exchanged between the giant and the other one.
With his ragged clothes and thin frame he looked as appealing to the eye as a half-chewn bone with bits of meat still dangling about, abandoned by the village's mutt in a puddle of muddy water. Furthermore, with various stitches around his whole face he looked like an atrocity - like somebody had done a terrible job of flaying off someone's face, and stitching it to a skull, or rather a corpse.
Ternesio was still unsure as to who was running this operation. The men in his command had started betting dragons on which one would it turn out to be, but Ternesio had much more important things to worry about now.
He could very vividly remember the orders of Lord Mero Hepastys; "all smugglers whom refuse to abide by the lordly decree of initiation are to be executed on site. All attempts of resistance are to be snuffed in the cradle!" Lordly decree of initiation, he thought, Lord Mero had made it an exercise of keeping his enemies closer than his friends ...


In his hand Ternesio was holding a parchment with a red ribbon around it. Rainwater platting on his cowl, he walked towards the couple. Noticing him the couple stopped working. Ternesio saw how the corpselike man slowly placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. There's on every time, he thought.


"Hello," said the skinny one, welcoming the approaching figure.


Without a word, Ternesio walked past the skinny one right up to the giant, and held up his fist which was grasping the parchemnt right up to his face. He had trouble keeping eye contact with the giant as he felt his whole body shaking thinking of how the giant could crush his head in an instant, if he could move that quickly. Which Ternesio had not seen him do. This thought comforted him.


"This one can't read," the skinny one said while chuckling, walking up behind Ternesio, so he was surrounded by the smugglers.


"I shall give this to you then," Ternesio said, carefully turning his back to the giant whose eyes were still nailed on the puny human beneath him.


The skinny one took the parchment, clumsily undid the ribbon and unrolled the parchment. It took him some time to read through the parchment, and Ternesio heard every single time how the giant inhaled and felt how he exhaled. His heart was beating in a galloping rhythm.


The skinny man, having finished reading the parchment, crumpled it in his hands and threw it into Ternesio's face,


"We are not interested," he said, moving his hand towards his sword to unsheathe it. He would have done it, and mabe he would have felled Ternesio right then and there if it wasn't for the fact that the moment he had crumpled the parchment and inched his way towards his sword he was turned into a barely living, soon-to-be-dead pincushion.


Gasping for air, the docks running red, the skinny one was on the ground. A band of archeres with drawn bows emerged from the shadows, with the tips of their arrows pointed towards the giant.


"Do not shoot," the giant said with his sweet voice, in a calm tone. With a slight movement of his hand Ternesio ordered the men to stand down.


"We have been hired by a rival of House Hepastys, a rival of all houses of The Free City of Pentos," he said, looking down on Ternesio.


"Can you prove it?" Ternesio asked, trying to penetrate the giant's eyes the way Lord Spymaster Gyloro would, but failing to do so.


"I can," the giant replied, and carefully moved his gigantic hands to his pockets and started rummaging around. After a little time he pulled out a soaken parchment an gave it to Ternesio.


Ternesio took the parchemnt and carefully unrolled it. With almost all of the ink smeared by the water he could only see one thing - a coat of arms. A green fist in the middle of two green flames on a yellow background. Suddenly everything fell into place. I must alert Lord Mero Hepastys, he thought, running from the docks, hearing his men shout,


"M'lord, what to we do with this one?!"


Ternesio stopped for a second, turning himself to face them, "chain this one up, tranpsort him to Lord Mero in Nontelos, then return to repeat the procedure, and and and, and arrest the dock guards on the charges of treason, I have to go, I have to go," he hastily said before rushing off into the darkness of the night.