EPTChapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Bryce (Machine)
A red sun rose this morning, a bloody wound above the sky of Pentos. Bryce stood on the windswept balcony outside of the armory, and closely observed the men he had gathered in the courtyard below. Two thousand soldiers fighting under the black banner signed with the golden Kraken of house Fields. Once they were smiths, thieves, mercenaries, farmers or leather tanners. Now they are soldiers. Bryce felt great proud upon seeing how disciplined and well-organized they stepped into formation. Every single one of them wore a castle forged black raiment, and a fine steel helmet. Their weapons were so sharp they could shave with them, and some actually did. Bryce looked in their eyes, and saw what he had been hoping to see for so long. At long last they were ready for war. He fingered his light brown beard as he leaned against the battlement, and stared at the bay of Pentos. Shirtless fishermen hauled nets from their boats onto the docks. The sun silhouetted the magnificent brick towers of the Free City. Bryce looked back down at his soldiers, and weighed the situation silently for a moment.
“It’s time.”
He turned around and entered the citadel. In Westeros these walls would have been cold as stone, but across the narrow sea even the bricks sent out a certain kind of warmth. But as exotic and beautiful the city of Pentos may be, they did not take Pentos just to have Pentos. "There is a lot of work to be done," he thought. Bryce walked through the courtyard and entered the palace chambers. He knew where he could find Greg, it was the same place where one could always find him. The men called it the war room, a round chamber closed to all eyes but the ones of Greg and his generals. And the woman’s. Shahnameh of Asshai she called herself, a red priestess of the fire god R’Hllor. He did not like the city of Asshai, the place consisted of black magic and lay as far east as any map went. He had seen her perform her rituals, how her eyes locked into the flames and observed the dancing of the fire. She could see things, things no one else could see. Bryce hated magic, even more so when it actually worked. Shahnameh looked into her fire and the flames told her what she could find in a man’s soul. She knew everything; past, presence and future. She knew all R’Hllor allowed her to see. Bryce did not like her, and neither did his men. She and the king spent a lot of time together, too much time. They descended to the dungeons at night, and entered a spell protected valyrian vault. No one knew what they were doing down there, but there were many reports of shrieks and screams. The soldiers stayed far away from the place, they say an unusual fire heats the air around the safe. It is like every inch of their body is telling them to get out, it felt like old magic ruled the dungeon. Shahnameh was in the war room as well, always in the presence of the king.
Greg stood next to her, bowed over a giant map of Westeros. His dark brown hair and beard looked unusually neat for a man in his position. He still looked young and fresh, much like during the rebellion. They fought hard back then, they fought well, and they fought with honor. And they lost. Greg sailed his army to Pentos, to live and fight another day. This is that day.
Bryce kneeled before the one true king of Westeros. He wore a simple dark leather armor, very unlike most highborns he resented luxury. The single-handed Valyrian steel sword "Rage" was strapped tightly to his black belt.
“Your Grace, we are ready.”
Greg did not look up, his eyes remained fixed at the map. His finger moved from the top to the bottom, and up again. He spent most of his days above this map, looking at the lands he should be ruling. Looking for a way to take them.
“I have already spoken with the king, ser Bryce, my flames showed me great evil. We will not go through with our plan.” Shahnameh’s voice sounded just as sweet as her body looked. She was a great beauty; her hair the color of burnished copper, her figure slender and graceful. A long gown of silk covered her olive skin, and she wore a red gold choker that fit around her neck. All priestess of R’Hllor had one, and when they worked their magic the ruby glittered crimson red.
Greg slowly looked up, and turned his head towards the sorceress.
“I am the king, try to not forget that. Leave us now, I wish to speak with Bryce.”
Her face twitched in anger, she was unhappy with this response. “As you wish, your Grace.”
Agitated she left the room, and closed the oak door behind her. When her footsteps had well fainted away, the king spoke. “Damn that woman, she deems herself so very important.”
“If I may speak frankly, your Grace, I do not like her one bit. She spends many nights in here with you, the officers feel left out. We can take back Westeros without relying on dark forces.”
“There is good reason why I am keeping her here. I do not like her magic tricks, dancing flames and fucking fires…… but I need her.”
Silence conquered the room, and it was as if no word would ever be spoken again.
Bryce opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “The men are ready, my king.”
Greg remained silent; he stared out of the window and watched the ravens circle around the square brick towers. The prince of Pentos used to be chosen from the forty most prestigious families of the city. When the Pentoshi believed the gods were angry at them, they sacrificed the prince by cutting his throat to appease the gods. When Greg conquered the city he believed the gods were very angry at him, so he slit the throats of all the forty family members.
He turned his head and looked at Bryce. “Come, there is something I need to show you.” Without a word he left the room and descended down the stairs. They kept going down until they reached the dungeon, until they finally stopped at the valyrian vault. The Valyrians were master craftsmen, the key around the king’s neck was the only way to open the safe. The biggest of battering rams would still be unable to break it, it was said to stop even dragonfire.
Greg took the key in his hand, and slowly pushed it into the lock. The door gracefully opened as he turned the key around. The vault door was decorated with the old insignias of Valyria, huge golden symbols that protected the safe with ancient spells. Nothing could stop an intruder like the old magic. The king pushed the door fully open, and stepped aside. Bryce peered inside but there was nothing but darkness to be seen.
“This is why I need Shahnameh, my friend.”
Darkness, nothing but darkness. He looked closer, but there wasn't anything to look at. Then his ears heard what his eyes didn’t see. A soft roaring came from inside the vault, almost not hearable, but undoubtedly present. From the darkness emerged a scorching heat, and then he saw the small, cat-sized creature clawing his way towards him.
Bryce could not believe what his eyes were seeing. He looked again to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, but it was very real.
“Your grace, that’s…..a dragon….”
“No, that is victory.”
5/5 good work!
