Archon Alleander Veria | Tyrosh | 258 AC
Positioned at the head of the lengthy, ornate dining table, Archon Alleander Veria leisurely dug into his morning meal. He drank aged pear brandy from a gilded skull, exhaling a dramatic sigh after each sip. He otherwise remained silent, discomforting the Myrish envoy seated to his right. Apart from the two, the dining hall contained only servants and slaves.
Music filled the air with harp, lute, and fiddle ringing out in their distinctive notes. Alleander used the sound to drown out the small talk his guest made.
Standing amongst the musicians was Aurion, his near six and a half foot frame towering over the others. His scarred fingers faltered over the holes of the flute he had in hand, belting out sharp discordant notes.
Alleadner smiled, enjoying the dichotomy of a boy who lived as a bloodied warrior since birth playing an instrument. Man not boy, he corrected in his mind for Aurion was now six and ten. He had aged to the point where if he hadn't been forced to shave the scruff of a beard would show.
Alleander had spent the year with Aurion in his possession playing with his new toy. One such way he did so was by changing the role Aurion served in at his every whim.
This month had seen Aurion be trained as a courtesan, learning perfumes, powders, and music. Alleander had constantly threatened to castrate him for every mistake. He also threatened to do so just for fun.
In the three months prior Aurion had worked as an account keeper, performing quite skillfully. The head bookkeeper had begged to have Aurion to stay on but Alleander refused.
It was not good sense but personal pleasure that dictated his every action and, more than woman or gold, nothing brought him greater satisfaction than having complete control over people's lives.
Still the profession that Aurion served in the most overall was as the Archon's guard. No matter how much it pleased Alleander to have Aurion serve in mundane roles he also desired to have the martial might of Aurion protecting him.
Alleander finished his meal which prompted the Myrish envoy to try and start a conversation. Waving him off Alleander signaled his disinterest. Undeterred, the Myrish delegate continued, his aged face drawn in a severe line.
"Archon, do you not realize the severity of the situation you are in. The Band of Nine have sacked and conquered the majority of the Disputed Lands and surely mean to march on Myr or Tyrosh next. Our spies tell of them massing ships and supplies, enough for a siege."
The diplomat, his name unknown to the uncaring Alleander, then spoke in a tone as near to begging as a magister's voice could get.
"I have been tasked to ask you to join with Myr in dealing with the scum. Do so not out of the history our two cities share but out of love for your own city which would surely fall tomorrow if Myr were to fall today."
Alleander suddenly slammed his fists into the table, sending plates and cups crashing to the ground. Whipping his purple dyed hair back he barked out into laughter startling the Myrish delegate.
"Do you think I bear some great love for this city I govern? Do you? Do you believe that remembering its long history, my countless ancestors who bled and toiled to shape it into what it is today, would stir emotions within me?"
Tone and face growing deathly serious Alleander continued.
"No it does not. The only love I bear for this city is for what it can do for me. Your offer does nothing for me and so I refuse."
The representative of Myr's face steeled into one of grim determination. He opened his mouth to voice what was surely a threat. Perhaps threatening to spread Alleander's thoughts about Tyrosh to those he ruled or about bringing the forces of Myr against Tyrosh.
Whatever it was Alleander was going to have none of it. Lifting his hand he silenced the man.
"Run off back to Myr. The Band of Nine will surely strike it first as it is the nearer target and not separated from them by the sea as Tyrosh is. Once they conquer your city and weaken themselves I will swoop in with the forces of Tyrosh and deal with them. And if my troops decide to stay in Myr, well, to the victors go the spoils."
Face red from outrage the Myrish man abruptly stood and left, glancing back at Alleander as if to engrave his face into his memory. The Archon simply waved.
Finishing his beverage Alleander stood and barked out to Aurion.
"Equip yourself."
Aurion understood the order and ran off. He returned clad in a short, fitted mail hauberk atop a gambeson. Blood stained the white gambeson partially red. In his hands were his arms of choice: a large heater shield and a heavy morningstar mace.
A long Valyrian dagger had been melted down and reforged into the mace's brutal, gleaming spikes. With a steel core the mace was heavy enough that a grown man could scarcely lift it. Aurion did not have that problem, being so large to be remarked as a siege tower given human form.
Alleander adorned the boy with the reforged weapon as a symbol of his power, for whose slave wielded Valyrian steel?
He did not fret that the weapon would be turned on him as he believed the boy was broken into docility. He also trusted the boy's smarts, for if he was killed the boy's death and Xalthra's would soon follow.
Turning, his long silken cape billowing behind him, Alleander left his manse and made his way toward the conclave. Aurion and some other guards fell in step behind him.
As he entered, the shouts and murmurs of the assembled members fell silent. Alleander languidly sat on the Archon's seat overlooking everyone. His guards stood at the steps except Aurion who silently stood beside him.
"Archon, so nice of you to finally join us," Reqias Syrillo said dryly. "I'm sure whatever depredation you were inflicting on your property was more important than the threat that nears us. The Band of Nine surely mean to sail towards Tyrosh."
As the richest man in Tyrosh, Reqias was the second most powerful man present. He wanted to be number one.
"The Band of Nine are just a loose band of sellswords. Aye, they may be led by the Golden Company but even they would not dare to attack the mighty Tyrosh. They probably aim for Myr," one of Alleander's lickspittles shouted from the back.
That reignited the argument in the chamber. Under the din Alleander heard Reqias shout "We are already at war" and thoughtfully considered it. He uncurled a vicious smile as something occurred to him.
Turning to Aurion he spoke, "Kill him." The room's muttering fell a tone at the order and as Aurion's mail clinked with every step towards Reqias. Aurion reached his target quickly. As no guards or weapons were allowed in the chamber save for the Archon's, Reqias had nothing to protect him.
Reqias noticed Aurion a moment too late, being deeply engrossed in his argument.
"You can't do thi…" was his last cry as he tried to stand.
His face met with the mace. Its Valyrian spikes pierced through skin and skull like butter before the weight of the blow crushed his face. Blood and brain spilled onto the floor.
The room fell dead silent. Many glanced towards the exits, now covered by the Archon's guards. Aurion slinked back to Alleander's side, blood dripping from his weapon.
"Fear not good men of Tyrosh. Using the power entrusted to the Archon during war I have dealt with a great traitor. The whore's son known as Reqias was collaborating with the Band of Nine, sending them both coin and information. Now half of his wealth shall fuel the war while the rest shall be split between you." Alleander voice echoed out.
Not a single soul believed what was said of Reqias but a mixture of greed and self-preservation prompted them to clap with great enthusiasm. The door of the chamber burst open, cutting short the applause.
Alleander's bows crinkled at the interruption to his performance. He prepared to order another death but stopped when he recognized the man who entered. The second in command of the Bleeding Tower kneeled and spoke.
"Archon, the Band of Nine set sail under cover of darkness last night. They are now attacking the city. Old Mother and Samarro Saan's fleet have burned our fleet and have struck the Bleeding Tower."
Impossible, Alleander thought. For that to be true would mean that they systematically found and killed every single scout and spy both on land and at sea.
Pandominoum erupted as men immediately tried to flee to the safety of their manses. They pushed against the guards who silently blocked their way.
"SILENCE." Alleander shouted, straining his voice.
"Tyrosh has survived a hundred wars and will survive and overcome this. Ready for war."
While strongly stated the island city was ill prepared for a siege. Alleander's known depraved character also inspired no great boost of morale.
The conclave doors opened and the members quickly filed out, some with the city's safety on their mind but most concerned with only their own.
– – –
Captain-General Maelys Blackfyre | Tyrosh | 258 AC
Spotted Tom let out a coarse laugh as one of his men got scalded by boiling water and fell screaming from a ladder. He laughed harder when the falling body crushed another man, killing them both.
Maelys Blackfyre scowled. A bloody week had passed besieging Tyrosh. A noose tightened around their necks with each passing day, every delay another opportunity for the neighboring cities of Lys and Myr to send aid against them. They needed to take the city soon.
Maelys turned to glance at Nine Eyes, who queer as ever sat meditating, eyes closed amid the chaos. He spat at the ground in frustration and massaged the shoulder of his unburned by his dead twin's head.
Were it not for their skill at arms and the size of their armies, Maelys would have never joined forces with the madmen that made up the Band of Nine. As it was, he simply cursed the necessity.
Maybe the sacrifice to my psyche was worth it, he thought looking at the situation. Tyrosh was on its last legs. Old Mother and Samarro Saan's combined fleet caught the Tyroshi fleet docked the first day, burning or capturing most in a surprise attack.
The second day was spent ferrying the Golden Company to help capture the Bleeding Tower after the first day's assault on it failed. It was from that structure in the harbor that Maelys now commanded.
During the following days the rest of the army was brought over and viciously attacked the city's defenses. Most of the combined army now swarmed the docks with ladders focused on breaching the lower walls present there.
Great headway was made today with multiple footholds being established one after the other no small part thanks to the mad Lord of Battle Liomond Lashare who led charge after bloody charge and the Ebon Prince Xhobar Qhoqua whose goldenheart bow archers far outranged all their opponents. Well all except the one Summer Islander atop the city's wall.
Maelys shook his head at their stupidity, knowing that just one arrow fired by a slave could see them dead. This was no pitched battle and so there would be no glory in it.
While his mind thought as such his muscles were taught with tension and he ached to join the battle, spill blood, and prove why he was named the Monstrous. He unclenched his fist and calmed himself.
Using his far-eye he saw that the majority of the enemy forces had concentrated on repelling the attack at the dock as planned. He raised a horn to his lips and blew. At the loud signal that echoed over the water the Golden Company men who had remained rested after the second day sailed forth to attack Tyrosh's main gate. Bearing rams and guiding war elephants they charged towards the lightly defended area.
Despite the hail of stone and arrows they easily pierced through.
At the crack of the opening gates cheers erupted from the army while the inhabitants of Tyrosh let out a mournful wail. The slaves and the few free men manning the walls melted away knowing the day was lost.
The Golden Company soldiers entered the city and started their long awaited sack with the other sellsword companies trailing in after them. No matter how much Silvertounge Alequo Adarys begged that we spare the city that was soon to be his he knew he could not deny the men this.
Terrified shrieks and raucous laughter started as the sellswords did as victorious sellswords do. There was paltry resistance as the Tyroshi commanders fled first, saving their own hides.
It came to no surprise to Maelys that Tyrosh fell within a week for the Golden Company had taken Qohor by itself in years past. When paired with the combined fleets of the Old Mother and Samarro Saan, the wealth of Alequo Adarys, and the battle hardened men of Derrick Fossoway, Nine Eyes, Spotted Tom, Liomond Lashare, and Xhobar Qhoqua, it was all but a guarantee that one of the strongest cities in the world would fall.
Maelys soon entered the city himself and smiled at seeing the trails of destruction wrought by his men. He scoffed as Alequo Adary's men tried to start water bucket brigades to stop the fires even as the cruel men under Derrick Fossoway and Spotted Tom started new ones.
Craving a strong wine after rationing for the siege, he and some escorts made their way to the center of Tyrosh, the Archons palace dominating the landscape as they neared. He sped up his gait to quickly pass Nine Eyes who tortured a merchant while smeared in weird green ointments and muttering words in Ghiscari.
While the agreement between the group was that Tyrosh would be Alequo's just as the Seven Kingdoms would be Maelys's all war booty was to be split nine ways. It ensured that no one would rise to be too powerful, fracturing the alliance.
Maelys knew the stingy Alequo would surely count the wine he aimed to take as a part of his share so he endeavored to enjoy it well and enjoy the best.
He entered the Archon's palace and while far from a man of weak stomach he grew disgusted at the sights.
Men from Yi-Ti to north of the Wall in Westeros were chained in a grotesque human menagerie. Statues made from human bone served as decoration. A few of the more good hearted of his men broke off to free the slaves though Maelys did not doubt that Alequo would get back all his new property.
The repeated sound of a dull thud caught the attention of Maelys. He drew Blackfyre, his fabled hand-and-a-half longsword of Valyrian steel. The blade whispered from its sheath. At his nod, one of his men silently stepped forward and eased open the door from which the sound emanated from.
The sight that greeted them was the still figure of Archon Alleander straddled by Aurion who repeatedly brought down his morningstar on the already dead man's smushed skull. The mace rose and fell again and again and again. Blood drenched Aurion's face, painting a ghoulish picture when paired with his red eyes.
"Aint that the Archon?" Serjeant Ronald Peake queried recognizing the man for as the paymaster of the Golden Company Ronald he had many dealings with him.
Maelys tilted his head. "Well I'll be. It is that creep." One of the men tsked at losing the opportunity to kill an Archon.
The boy seemed to come out of his violent haze and locked eyes with Maelys. His eyes drifted from his misshapen second head to Blackfyre and widened with recognition. He stood quickly alerting Maely's guards but made no move to advance and instead spoke.
"You claim to be a king and do kings not grant boons to those who aid them? I have slain one of your enemies."
Maelys's men bristled but he threw his head back and barked out laughter. Then he suddenly stopped and darted forward. He kicked Aurion's hand making him drop his mace.
Cursing Aurion reached for the dagger at his hip but a heavy backhanded blow across his face sent his ears ringing. Another kick sent the dagger to the ground. Maelys held Aurion's bulky figure up with a single hand by the throat. He squeezed.
"I do not claim to be a King but rather am one. As such I deserve a King's respect, boy. You have balls for a slave." He paused and kneed Aurion in the crotch. Aurion grimaced in pain.
"As I said you've got balls for a slave so I'll spare your life. As for a reward I'll guarantee your freedom and let you loot what you can carry."
"Besides his Valyrian mace of course." Ronald spoke out. A quick glare from Maelys silenced him.
"The weapon is his, provided it doesn't get looted off his dead corpse." Maelys smirked. He saw the familiar gleam of greed appear in his men's eyes. He threw the boy to the ground and turned away. It did not escape his attention that the boy had clasped another dagger in his hand and seemed ready to slit his throat earlier.
Aurion had little time to catch his breath as one of Maelys's guards cut the distance between them with long strides. The man raised and brought down his own mace set to kill him.
Aurion rolled across the ground dogging the weapon. The marble floor where he had just been shattered from the powerful blow. He sprang up after picking up both his heater shield and mace smoothly.
Maelys let out a whistle. He grabbed a cup of pear brandy from his man who found the wine stores and enjoyed the show. The men made a circle around the two men, one man and one boy really, and started to place bets. Only Ronald Peake placed a bet against Justin, the man who was fighting, more out of hatred than for the long odds.
The sound of sack outside echoed through the palace.
"What's your name, boy," Justin barked out, perhaps finding him respectable after dodging his blow.
"Aurion," the child briskly answered. Justin nodded and gave his own.
Justin advanced with cruel confidence, muscles tight beneath dyed mail. His mace was light in his veteran hands. Aurion circled warily, heater shield raised, sweat and blood streaking his face.
Aurion surprisingly moved first. He closed the distance in a heartbeat. Steel met Valyrian steel and sparks flared. Justin disconnected and feinted low. The blow was caught by Aurion's shield. He had to jerk back when Aurion returned with a blow of his own.
Justin then came darting in, his mace arcing toward Aurion's ribs. Aurion swung his shield up, catching the blow but not fully. The head of the mace slammed into the edge and partially hit his side.
An expression of pain flared bright across Aurion's face. A crack rang out from the now half shattered shield. Aurion staggered with a grunt, breath knocked from his lungs.
He didn't retreat.
He surged forward, slamming his shoulder into Justin's chest, forcing the older man off balance. Justin snarled and swung again, but Aurion ducked low and circled to his blind side. Marble slick underfoot, Aurion pivoted and dropped his dented shield. He lifted his morningstar in both hands and swung it across his body at full force.
Justin turned too slow.
Aurion roared as he brought the mace up in a savage arc towards Jusitin's face. The Valyrian-forged spikes connected with his cheekbone, driving through flesh and bone like wet parchment.
His head snapped sideways under the force, jaw torn loose. Blood exploded across the floor and onto Aurion's face.
Justin crumpled to the ground, corpse twitching. Silence swallowed the hall. The only sound was Aurion's ragged breathing and the soft drip of blood from the mace's spikes.
He turned slowly to face the circle of onlookers, one hand clutching his aching ribs, the other still gripping the gore-slicked weapon.
"Who's next?" he rasped.
Maelys let out a low, impressed chuckle and raised his cup.
"Aurion," he said, voice ringing with approval. "Welcome to the Golden Company."