Of Ruins and Dreams
Seventeenth Day of the First Month 293 AC
There is no anger burning in your breast when all is said and done, no righteous fury, only disgust as the deeds you had heard recounted. For a moment you consider waking 'Ser' John Mudd from his trance that he face you as a man not a puppet before you end him.
Pointless mummery, you shake your head at the notion. A wounded mouse has a better claim to 'facing down' the cat that's playing with him than the serjeant has of doing the same to you.
Better to keep from inflicting even more senseless suffering on the world, the man before you had done quite enough of that. "Sleep," you command by the enchantment that binds him. Then in one quick cut of your sword you slit his throat. He barely has a chance to twitch before death takes him.
Faint disdain, though paired with grudging understanding, radiates from Dark Sister. This had not been the first time the ancient blade had been used for execution, and though she understands the need she does not love shedding the blood of helpless captives.
"Apologies, my lady," you send as you clean the blade in the same preternaturally hot flame that serves as John Mudd's pyre.
"The heart-blood of a mighty foe I have drank by your hand, my king. I am content," she replies, the answer is markedly clearer than your first contact days ago, as though she is learning more about herself with every passing day.
"Should of taken his clothes first," Vee's words draw you from your thoughts with a start. Seeing your confusion she adds, "The dead man, plenty of folk who'd like fine clothes like that and not be bothered a whit over them being on a corpse for a bit."
Before you can marshal and answer to what must seem to the girl an eminently sensible position, Malarys interjects smoothly, "That would have defeated the purpose of making him disappear entirely to avoid troublesome questions."
Vee nods, understanding the need for subterfuge, though she rarely feels the need to use it herself.
You look at Rolland and the three crossbowmen with different eyes than before John Mudd's final confession, not because you know any of them to be monsters, but because they are in the dead serjeant's words, 'the usual run of sellswords.' By that you take to mean they might well have committed what you count hanging offenses though not with such fervor as to start rumors.
No worse then the Ironborn you 'inherited' from Damphair, probably better for the Golden Company is rightly famed for its discipline, you are forced to admit.
***
A rather incongruous parade you must make walking among the ruins of Sallosh. Stones shake at the heavy iron tread of the sentinels while most of your company follows behind at a measured pace, save Dany who had taken to flying above as a scout, barely a glimmer of silver in the darkness.
"You know, they've done a good job here," Maelor muses besides you. "It's not easy leaving a place looking mostly like a ruin while fixing it to be proper to live in. Course the stonework helps... better than some parts of Mantarys."
"Sallosh was far enough away from Valyria that the Doom did not end it directly, though the Dothraki and supposedly the plague were still its end," Lya interjects sadly.
"Could you bring folks to live here again?" Maelor asks idly. "It would be a shame to let it go to waste," he unknowingly echoes Vee's sentiments from a few moments ago.
"Fancy being lord of Sallosh?" Waymar asks in jest.
Maelor snorts. "No, thank ye. Hard enough to fix a leaking roof, never mind a whole city worth of them. I'd sort of like one that was in better shape," he says, glancing at you. "This conquering business ends with a lot of lords losing their heads, right? If any of them should happen to own a nice spot by the sea with enough people to be getting on with..."
What do you answer?
[] Promise to grant Maelor a conquered city
-[] Write in which one (optional)
[] Promise to help Maelor build his own city
-[] Write in where (optional)
[] Stay silent
[] Write in
OOC: I know this slows down things again, but this felt like a good place to put the minor action. It's just more natural coming from Maelor than to have Viserys always asks the question directly.