Upon a Lonely Perch
Sixth Day of the Second Month 294 AC
It takes the better part of three days of watching to be confident that you have learned all you need to about the comings and goings of the Tower of the First Watch. The first hurdle are the wards, as strong as the ones you laid on the Snare, though distinctly intended to keep interlopers out rather than prisoners in. But there were yet darker beings watching the narrow stairs,
entombed dead, their gaze as sharp as any fury's, watching every corner, every whisper of movement. You could no more slip in unseen here than an elephant through a needle's eye. Thankfully, you do not need to.
There are visitors, generals in polished armor, the marks of their defeat long since removed, and other officers less resplendent, concerned perhaps with seeing that the prisoner remains in his cell. It is in the guise of one such that you slip in deftly and talk your way past the guards, or perhaps better to say glare your way past. You still don't know quite enough about why the one you seek if here to risk a long conversation, so you resort to short sharp commands, moving ever upwards through the tower, past traps that had been disarmed for your passage and wards directed to let you pass. A gate is only ever as strong as its gatekeeper, after all.
So at last you come to the final door, to the high and lonely room atop the crooked tower where the one you came to see broods upon the ruined city that he alone can see for what it is. You have to mentally stop the urge to knock. It would not play into your guise, so you instead push the door open.
The room is dark, its sole occupant laying upon a bed of stone. He looks pale and young, frail with the mien of one who has suffered long sickness. You would count him dying rather than anther of the dead of Sarnor were it not for the line of crimson below his neck, like a macabre smile. The prince had died alongside the citizenry before the final mad charge that gave the ruins of Mardosh their name in the tongue and tales of the Dothraki, but he did not rise again as a specter beholden to whatever enchantment holds the city in thrall. He is awake and aware... he is watching you with a wary gaze.
"Well, come to make me another offer I've already refused more times than I can count?" the dead prince asks. "I have no interest in being the last piece in your master's sick game. I would sooner deal with a Dothraki. At least the savages do not expect their victims to feel compassion towards them for their murders."
Well that answers a few questions, but it poses scores more. Who is this 'master' and what did they want of the prince are first among them, but you must be careful how you ask. Unlike in Sathar, you are not dealing with the ancient dead. The boy before you has likely been warned of dragons bearing gifts, and given how his life ended he has every reason to be even more inclined to bitterness and suspicion.
How do you approach the Nameless Prince, what do you ask and offer?
[] Write in
OOC: A bit short, but I need solid confirmation of your offers here. I'm just thankful you guys did not trigger any alarms, a combat encounter at this hour would have been impossible. Not yet edited.
