Conqueror's Duty
Twenty-Seventh Day of the Second Month 293 AC
The palace has not a lack of mirrors for you to use in your search for your quarry, alas that a name and a few words description proves too tenuous a connection to look upon him. The glass remains stubbornly dark and cold before you. With Dany still away to dealing with the tributary cities and Malarys still prepared for battle not far-sight you are forced to let the rat scurry into his hole for now. "Hopefully he will not have traveled too far by the morrow."
Both Ser Richard and Bronn seem somewhat relived by the declaration, though for entirely different causes. While the sellsword is far from a coward he has a healthy respect for his own life, whereas the knight would have worried about leaving your side in such a moment, for all you are not what many would call an easy mark for assassins of any stripe.
After giving some final instructions to Ser Gerold to have the legion seal access points to the catacombs you had not known of beforehand you head off once more from the palace, this time to deal justice to those guilty of crimes less odious than Argor and his ilk, though still deserving of death.
***
The Plaza of Thorns was named after some famed battle during the Century of Blood where the armies of the Triarchy broke the hosts of Volantis supposedly by erecting walls of thorns to stave off Volantine horsemen and war elephants. Whether that meant simple spikes or some dying gasp of sorcery you cannot guess, but one thing is for certain, a different sort of victory will be earned in this place, one that will echo far further than that deaf clash of tyranny against tyranny.
You climb to your place with neither hesitation nor haste, noting that the wood you step on creaks, but it does not fail under your weight, much like this trial, your suppose. Not perfect, but good enough, and swiftly raised to reassure the people of Tyrosh as to your character and motives.
Indeed you are gratified to see that thousands did gather to see this. There are craftsmen, traders, even the odd brightly-dressed noble surrounded by Unsullied guards, no doubt technically freed, but most of the crowd is made up of newly made freemen from the frantic hope mingled with fear upon them, the people you had set loose from their chains but also from the certainties of their lives. They expect much from you...
"Citizens of Tyrosh. Many of you might wonder the reason for this gathering and indeed, who I am to lead it. I am Viserys Targaryen, Dragon King, and now Archon of Tyrosh," you declare without artifice, your voice loud enough to be heard across the plaza, carrying with it the strength and authority of he dragons of old. "For years, the Daemonic servants of Abaddon, self-proclaimed Lords of Death in all its most terrible forms, have lurked below this city and among some of its most prominent citizens. They spread their taint and corruption far and wide, promising fools power in exchange for servitude and stalking the alleys for innocent souls to prey upon. If you have heard rumors of strange disappearances and monsters lurking in the night, know now that they are as true as the horrid twisted things you may have seen howling and raving in the night. Some were truly fiends of the Grey Wastes, others only the fools that propitiated themselves before them."
There are no cheers, only a fearful silence as you had expected, for a sorcerer who can take a dragon's skin is near enough a monster for most. Still they did come, they are listening.
"When I learned of the cancer that was growing beneath Tyrosh, I could not turn away from your plight. I could not idly stand by as those in power willfully ignored it while this great city teetered ever closer to a dreadful fate. Thus did I marshaled my Legion to march upon these walls, not to rape and pillage, but to cut out the rot, to burn away the corruption, before it was too late to save this city,
your city as much as it is mine now." Though the words are far indeed from simple unvarnished truth, they are no simple lie, meant to seduce the hearts of men. You will claim the rest of the Three Daughters in time, but it was for the peril Tyrosh found itself in that it was the first to become yours.
Perhaps something of that earnestness is carried forth upon the wind, perhaps people are simply desperate to believe that someone, anyone, even a foreign conqueror, has their best interests at heart in these trying times. The crowds grow restless and stray clapping can be heard from either side.
"Alas that not all evil festers in the hearts of fiends and monsters, that not all darkness is foreign to this world. Men also used this time of chaos and death to enrich themselves at the expense of others. They fanned the fires and swelled the rivers of blood out of nothing more than
greed." You allow your gaze to slip from looking upon the crowd to the place where the prisoners had been gathered, guarded by stone-faced legionaries.
Most were among the city's defenders, guard dogs turned wolves in the chaos and madness. Others were from among the sellsword companies you brought to these shores, discounting your word for the age-old savage customs of war... and a few were even from the ranks of the Legion, discounting their vows at the first chance. For them perhaps you have the smallest sliver of pity, for most did not act from greed as you proclaimed to the crowd, but from the desire for vengeance upon the slave-masters, turned savage and cruel. Still that will not spare them the noose for taking 'justice' into their own hands. Perhaps unsurprisingly, only among the Second Sons there were no looters to be seen, for their task had been simply to take and hold the gates.
"With my arrival, you may rest assured in the knowledge that none will be allowed to commit such fell deeds without facing dire consequences. The rule of law has come to Tyrosh, and no man shall be below notice of that law. No man shall be too
unimportant for its protection. No man is above the law; neither coin, nor station, nor the color of your cloak will save you from justice being done," you continue as the crowd finally begins to find its voice, though you imagine the highborn among it are far less enthused than most at the announcement.
"These laws I speak of will not be changed on a whim," you hammer home the point. "There shall be no more exceptions or rights due to tradition or favor from on high. These old habits that seem the hallmarks of corruption or sheer incompetence will no longer blacken your streets with their maudlin absurdity. Justice
will be done today, in truth and in full."
With that you wait for the cheers and the stamping of feet to quiet, taking a moment to look upon the faces of your companions. Garin seems quietly pleased, as is Lya, while Ser Richard looks over the crowd for assassins, likely the only man present who would have missed your words entirely, so tightly does he cling to his duty. Only Malarys looks upon the events he had been instrumental in organizing with faint dislike. Though he has no love of such men as are tried today, the spectacle likely sits ill with him. You offer him a small apologetic smile, which he acknowledges with a tilt for the head as if to say, as he had done aloud many times before, 'I see the use, for all I do not think it necessary.'
"Bring forth the first prisoner and his accusers, please," you call to the legionaries standing respectfully to the side. It would be a long and bloody day, but every bit as needed as anything else you had done.
What do you do?
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OOC: With only second-hand knowledge Rohar had a hefty save bonus, which combined with the naturally high will save from being a caster with proper magic items and a good roll meant that he made even the DC 26 Will save from Dragon Viserys scrying with Blood Wish.