A Prince No More
Twenty Seventh Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
Sorcerer's Deep
The offices of Silver Serpent Enterprises were filed with the comings and goings of high and low, local and foreigner alike, and some of those foreigners were very foreign indeed, Oread merchants with hair of crystal looking to partner up in the hopes of acquiring some rare arcane reagents, djinn travelers looking for an account of 'the most interesting places around' to adventure in, shadow fey looking to sell strange and wondrous workings for prices that would drive a sensible Braavosi accountant frothing at the mouth.
Yet the dark-haired young man who was by the side door that evening was neither genie nor genie-kin, he was not even a shadow fey of the Orphne, but a far rarer soul, a child of two natures, a changeling almost-prince. He'd spent the day helping to mediate disputes, for though he did not have much of a head for numbers the knight was skilled indeed at getting people of all sorts to see the other side of a dispute so long as they had the goodwill to make the attempt. You would not have caught the true Renly Baratheon dead doing some tawdry merchant's dealings, which was the reason he had started working here. Well, that and the fact that he wanted to have something that was his and not just the coin Stannis had let him take with him to keep up the mummery or the enchanted gifts of the Dragon King meant to help keep him alive. A month's pay was not much by the standards he was used to maintaining, but that handful of silver was worth more to him than all the gold in Storm's End.
I could live like this, the young man realized with a start as gentle rain began to sift down from on high, the light of fading sunset caught in every droplet.
I don't have to go after him. The thought was a relief, one more real choice for him to make, yet as he considered the matter he found his resolve undiminished, perhaps even stronger as flame forges iron into steel. He would do this not because of some cosmic symmetry, some desperate half understood yearning, but because Stannis deserved answers and because
he deserved answers too.
And of course, if I choose any differently I would likely never hear the end of it....
As though the amused thought had conjured it from the ether a bright childish voice called from his left. "So what taverns are we trying out today boss?"
The speaker was a towheaded headed lad who looked at least eight years too young to have anything to do with a tavern, but in this, as in many other things, looks could be deceiving. Venny was a gremlin, an erinat of the new breed, redeemed of malice, but no less eager for mistchief and adventure than any of his kind. Renly had not so much recruited him as mentioned his quest in his earshot once thus leading to the little fey proclaiming his intention to accompany him on the spot. One could not ask for more enthusiastic support.
"I'm still looking for a strong warrior to serve as a bulwark," the knight replied as his steps led him deeper into what was commonly known as Battle Ward, for the Circle of Battle at its heart. There weren't any night fights scheduled for today but the taverns were more likely to see giant and minotaur patrons around there as well. The tavern keepers were less skittish around their great strength and more likely to make them feel at home.
"I think we should look for a wizard first, boss, I'm mean sure you've got some magic, but it's all glamour and enchantment, not the best for daring the Feywild where everyone has those sorts of tricks," Venny said not for the first time.
"I prefer to speak to King Viserys before proposing the task to any of his mages," Renly replied. "They are all so young..."
"You know you are less than five years old, right?" the gremlin snickered. "That's a dangerous age to be going on a dangerous adventure."
So it was still bantering back and forth that the knight and the mischief-maker walked into the smokey common room of the Dragon's Tooth, but the person on whom the knight's eyes fell was not a minotaur, he was not even a stone giant, but a warrior with skin pale as the winter sky and a bristling frost touched beard.
"Can I pet the dog, boss?" Venny asked. "Look at him, so fluffy and sweet, sleeping with his tongue out."
"I think that is a wolf, not a dog, best be careful," Renly pointed out, a fact for which he was very glad when the giant wolf-creature opened disconcertingly sharp eyes and growled.
"Touch me and you'll lose a hand."
The giant snorted in amusement. "Don't mind Gorun, he's had a bit too much Tyroshi strongwine. Pull up a chair small one, let's hear this story of yours."
It took all his skill and every argument he could truthfully muster, but in the end Renly managed to convince the giant if not the wolf-kin to follow him into the Feywild if the Dragon King would allow it while under contract. Probably for the best if he wanted to keep Venny outside the wolf's stomach.
OOC: Hopefully the end is not too abrupt. It's getting late and I did not feel like writing out the specific diplomacy would add that much to the chapter when Renly's inner struggle is the core of it. 
