Heirs of Dragons Far and Near
Second Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
After weighing the mater with as much care as handing out such a fearsome weapon as Meleys requires you decide that there is none more worthy than a companion who had been with you through years of trial and battle. Doubtlessly Maelor would enjoy the freedom of the skies after months of secret toil under the fel gaze of the Efreeti lords, and a dragon would only cement his prestige as a lord if he still desires to rule. So after listening to his most recent report in person, mostly having to do with the towering arrogance of an Ifrit steward who would not take no for an answer with regards to buying Maelor's slaves until Sarell made the point herself, you bring up the dragon.
"A dragon, the red one...?" He hesitates a moment, likely trying to bring Meleys to mind. "That'd be great. Too bad the fire couldn't burn the likes of Ibim Quan and his fool of a master, but maybe the next journey I take won't be skulking in a place where everyone can walk into a furnace with no more trouble than wiping the soot off their face." There is a subtle strain barely audible in the hiss of enchanted sand.
"Is everything going well?" you ask, as a friend this time not merely a king.
Maelor catches on instantly as you knew he would. "Yeah, it's just..." The pause is far longer this time. "Look, I'm used to being in the shadows. It's in my blood, it's what I'm best at. But I've never been a puppet master before, setting people up to fall. Tangling 'em up sure, but remember those clerks in Tyrosh?"
"Yes, that was solid work," you say sincerely, though without dwelling on the matter enough that Maelor might allow himself to avoid speaking of whatever trouble he is having.
"The thing is, I
knew I was kicking the legs out from under them, and I was fine with that since even if they weren't enemies they were in the way, but with the Ash Bloods I just set 'em up for a fall if it came to it just 'cause they were there like a puppet master pulling at his strings..."
Truth be told you doubt anyone skilled and ruthless enough to make a living off crime in the heart of the Great Sultan's dominion deserves to be protected from being used as they have doubtlessly used others, but you do not interrupt.
"So I was thinking, if the Dervishes come for 'em, maybe I could sneak 'em out like I did the Fakir's servants, but then Sarell pointed out I'd be going against the whole point of the plan, even laying the groundwork it risks the threat being followed back and well... she's right." The boy's voice goes soft, almost wistful. "If I were Dany maybe I'd argue different, but I'm not, I'm just me." Again the sands fall silent, before he adds in a firmer tone. "Tell her happy nameday for me, alright?"
"You can tell her yourself," counter instantly. "She would never forgive me if I asked you to work through the whole day. I'm sure someone can fill in for an hour or two. Worse comes to worst I'll do it."
"Thanks... er, Your Grace," he adds, the first time he had said those words in the whole conversation.
"You are as bad at that over a brazier as you are in person," you snort, amused. "No point trying to start now."
***
Of course it had not been only Maelor you had considered for the honor of becoming Meleys' rider. There are others newcome into your service with the dragon-blood running strong in them, the only others born of the Forty Families besides your own kin.
Aelor and Aenie Caleris make an odd pair, he still a boy, she a young woman whose eyes mark her as older by far, though they had been born twins long ago in sundered Lyceos. You find them siting on a marble bench among the Leshy-tended woods, idly feeding the swans as they talk. As you approach you catch Aenie asking her brother about his studies in the Scholarum and how they differ from his studies
before. Though you doubt the boy catches it you suspect his sister is as interested in reminiscing about Valyria, that is to her only the faded memory of childhood, as she is in learning more of how young mages are trained in the Deep.
"Excellence," Aelor jumps from his seat as he spots you and smoothly gives the open palmed gesture and deep bow that was the highest courtesy of Old Valyria. His sister by contrast rises more slowly, considering you a long moment before giving the shallower bow that is the norm at court in the Deep and asking somberly: "Your Grace, how may we serve?"
"As you would have served the Freehold had fate been kinder," you reply, simply presenting the dragon eggs.
They swear their oaths there out of sight of all but a handful of others who had chosen this path for their afternoon walk, though you make a note to have them sworn in before the court when the dragons hatch. For now you have more urgent matters to attend to, the Devils of Asmodeus whose names you had torn from the mind of his captured servants and the asura who had stolen the body of the Efreeti mage.
With Ser Richard at your side you stand within the Snare, armed for battle, and strike the floor with the Staff of Ages, and by its power work a curse not to enfeeble the body or bewilder the mind but simply to reveal where it might be found in spite of its stolen ward.
You know the scorched sky and effigies of shattered grace all too well, the body snatcher had chosen to flee to Heaven's Shore, you assume in the hopes of escaping the Brazen Throne's grasp. Alas for him that the Efreeti are not
all the foes he had made. Placing a hand upon the book that is all that remains of his master you call it by the name you had found in the spell-wrought pages.
The spell grasps hold as you had hoped and a moment later you are looking at yet another odd turtle, its shell shinning like jewels.
What do you do next?
[] Minor action
-[] Question and summon more Devils
-[] Attempt to speak to R'hllor
[] Head to the plane of Water
[] Write in
OOC: Well here we are, as a note the Devil summoning is set for 'the beginning of the 11 month' so even if you do not choose it Lya is going to do it off screen today or tomorrow.
