A Dragon in the Mists
Seventeenth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
It was raining in Braavos, a sort of indecisive drizzle dripping through the mists, 'just enough to get under your collar without being worth an oiled cloak', the locals called it. Yet many had gathered to see the wonders of the south and the Sorcerer King, not just curious bravos and courtesan taking the air either. Those of substance and wealth upon whose words and deeds the Secret City turned on climbed the somewhat rickety wooden stands gamely enough for a look at the young king who had so fattened their coffers. Truth be told he had lost some of his mystical allure among the younger set when word had begun to spread around the city that he had found wondrous new realms and offered new ways to sell them cured wood, barrels of wine, and jars of honey. Yet even the most cynical would-be heckler could not stand unmoved before the appeal that rang out:
"I also greet our allies in Braavos. Even though soldiers march and ships are readied in its harbors, let us show them that it is not for naught, that there are things worth fighting for in this world. But let us not forget that there are other places in the world where darkness still holds sway, where man still toils in bondage for the benefit of uncaring masters. And to them, even if they might not hear us today, I will only say this: not much longer. The tide of history can not be stopped, not by walls, nor steel, nor whips. The day will come where they too will be free of their burdens, when chains lay broken and hope will come to them. This I solemnly pledge on this day, for all the world to hear. The days of suffering and loss will come to an end."
Uthero Agrelys, a man both young enough to bear a bravo's blade and rich enough to reap vast profits from the changing of the world heard something more than simple pageantry, however grand the words. He heard the voice of a friend whom he had never known to break a promise made in earnest, of a man who paid his debts in iron either way.
"Do you want to try out for this tournament, Aly?" he asked the woman next to him, the most skilled mage in Braavos bar none, whom few indeed dared call by such a familiar name.
"Whatever for? I have plenty of money, and if I need something made in Sorcerer's Deep I'll have it ordered," she replied. "Let others have their chance to take the stage."
Hearing this Uthero gave an exaggerated pout that would have had him laughed out of any playhouse worth the name: "And I so wanted to compete in the joust..."
The mage laughed: "You ride a horse about once every two months, and you've never even held a lance. Let's just sit here and watch..."
As though Viserys in far off Sorcerer's Deep agreed with her, he finished his address:
"Now, though, enough of words. We have come to see deeds. Deeds of daring and bravery, of skill with blade and bow. And from all over the world they have answered our call, to show us their skills and virtue. So I yield the podium now to our contestants and wish them the best of luck in the trials to come."
Soon Uthero found himself cheering for fights on the sands with every bit as much vigor as the rest of the crowd. He saw a water dancer's blade set against a iron-clad westerosi knight with an unmarked shield, and then that same knight trounced by a one-eyed Northerner in shaggy furs, a bull-man with golden studs bored into his horns matched against a man wearing a frightful hound's helm...
"Is he bearing his coat of arms on his shield? Three dogs on yellow... I wonder whose mark that is?" Uthero asked, sensing intrigue afoot with the skill of one born to a long line of merchants and venturers, spies and spymasters, and honed in the often twisted halls of Braavosi power.
Just then the mirror turned to the King's face and in his eyes there was indeed a glint of interest, for more than strength at arms.
"You and your banners..." Alysande shook her head fondly. "I suppose it won't hurt to go see in person, but remember
one of us has to wake up early tomorrow."
In a moment they were gone, mostly unnoticed by the cheering crowd.
OOC: I thought about doing a blow by blow of Sandor against the minotaur, but it did not mesh well with the rest of the chapter. Since this is Uthero's PoV he would not be focused on every twist of the blade. His vague dreams of chivalry are going to provide an interesting foil to Sandor though. Speaking of Sandor you can speak to him now if you want since Viserys has noticed him and the melee is over for the day.
