Of Haughty Spirit
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Second Month 293 AC
"I have no desire to tangle your father's fate in lies and deception for my own end, and only seek to untangle the plots the madmen who consorted with fiends wove," you answer. Then noticing that your answer had only left her more confused, you say bluntly, "He will receive a fair hearing."
"What...? Fiends, I heard something about that, but..." the girl trails off. She shakes her head, perhaps unable to accept that the monsters of bedtime tales are horrors she has endured at all too human hands. With a long weary sigh, she gathers herself and asks, "What do I need to do for the spell? Spill blood, or...?"
You swiftly hand her the Wayfinder and explain its workings before she can conjure yet more frightful things from her own imaginings.
Truth be told you are not certain what to think when the device does indeed hum to life. On the one hand having the man dead in the chaos would spare you the trouble his presence may cause, yet if you found nothing you could never be certain he was dead... and neither could anyone else. Tales of 'miraculous returns' for heirs or exiled lords thought dead are all too common when interested factions need a figurehead to rally support behind.
You lead the girl, Daela by name, to Lya, carefully keeping ten feet between you lest you startle her. You then conjure steeds, two not only one, before taking on your own winged form, though not fully that of a wyrm lest you have to navigate any narrow passages... as a dragon counts such things at least. The poor girl does not need the added strain of traveling alone with you weighing upon her mind.
"Straight lines are easier to follow like this," you offer, trying not to smile, knowing that your expression has far too many teeth in it at the moment to be the least bit reassuring.
A small nod is all the confirmation you get, but at least she is listening.
***
West and a little north the three of you fly, away from the city though not far from it.
The archon must have fled as soon as he got word of your coming to have made the gates in time, you realize with no small measure of contempt as you look over the lands with an eye for the future.
They are rich and well worked, for this is Tyrosh's bread-basket of last resort, irrigation canals cutting squares through fields of rye, grain, and barley, occasionally dotted by the odd village and rustic manor house. Unsurprisingly it is to one of these stately homes for the highborn that the trail leads.
"Could you lead her back? There's no need..." you begin, addressing Lya.
"No!" the girl calls frantically. "I have to stay, please!"
A part of your resents the implied distrust of your word, but you push aside the thought. Given what she must have been hearing about you it is a minor miracle she trusts you this far.
You fly out over the manse, calling for the former Archon to be brought out, unharmed, punctuating the end of your statement with a burst of fire. Not your most elegant of negotiations, but brevity has its uses and you have much yet to do in order to solidify your rule of Tyrosh, far too much to waste time bandying words with some minor magister.
Thankfully you are not made to wait long. A man garbed in emerald green robes with golden trim emerges from the house, flanked by a handful of Unsullied, long spears held high, though you can see he slightest tremble even there.
Daela almost outpaces you on her shadow steed, so swiftly does she spur it. You hardly need to ask who the man is.
"...my poor girl, what have those beasts done to you?" you catch as you descend, and it is fair to say you are far more tempted to take umbrage at those words than anything his daughter had said, but the sight of her silently weeping into his embrace is enough to soften your tone somewhat at least as you explain the situation to the lord of House Taelreon.
"So I am to take your word, who consorts with pirate and slaves freed to prey upon honest men and other unnatural things?" the former archon sneers.
"You may trust that you are not already dead, though it could easily be arranged," Lya snaps as you look on in mute incredulity at the sheer gall of the man.
Still you keep your temper in check, you will not harm a man over foolish words spoken in anger. Instead you merely say, "Your options are rather limited, and grow more so with every heartbeat."
"Please father, listen to them. There's no sense in dying here," Daela pleads, fear lending her voice clarity. It is enough... if only just from the grudging nod.
You can only hope the Red Priests will be more reasonable, they could hardly be any less so.
What do you offer the priests of R'hllor and what do you ask for?
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OOC: Viserys had to pass a will save this update. On failure he would not have killed the former archon, but he would have knocked him out, 'for easy transport'.