Year 290 AC.
Essos. Ghaen Isle. New Ghis.
I set out for the feast accompanied by Zirarro na Zakloz and Elario Basco.
The Captain was swaggering in a yellow shirt with a large cut-out on his chest, over which he wore an orange ruha. The Ghiscari also chose traditional trousers, sandy-colored pantaloons. Sharp-toed, soft, bright-orange shoes muffled the sound of his steps, and a backsword in a scabbard richly decorated with gold and jewels lent him an air of solemnity. A thick gold chain and several expensive rings made me involuntarily smirk, imagining Zirarro in a crimson jacket.
Elario Basco was dressed more modestly, yet no less expensively. Sandals of fine leather, a blue tunic, and a blue toga, belted with a wide strip of white cloth. Considering the cost of bright and saturated dyes, this was quite a rich outfit. He wore a pair of massive silver bracelets, more like warrior's vambraces, and no weapon.
"Such are the traditions of my homeland, my lord. We come to celebrations and feasts unarmed," he answered my puzzled look.
I merely shrugged. Traditions were traditions; regardless, the reception would have reliable security from the Unsullied and Praetorians.
Upon reaching the designated hall, we passed inside, moving past a post of four guards. We had arrived a bit early, so inside were only the pyramid's masters, guards, and servants.
The chamber was very large, likely taking up almost the entire floor. Massive square columns supported the high ceiling. Wide windows poured light onto the tables, laden with all manner of food and drink. Quick-moving servants, clad in single-colored yellow cloaks, brought in traditional Ghiscari dishes on trays: smoked fish, steaming mutton, and spicy seafood soups.
The tables arranged along the walls and closer to the entrance were intended for less important guests. The further from the doorway and closer to the far wall, the more noble, wealthy, and powerful the person occupying the seat. Our procession, without the slightest delay, headed for the three tables situated at the far end of the hall, forming the letter "V." Several parties had already gathered there, numbering about thirty people in total.
"Oho-ho! I'm glad to finally see you in person, Lord Viserys Targaryen! Forgive me for not meeting you personally; I had to resolve a problem that arose due to the machinations of my House's enemies," said a man of about fifty, smiling warmly and spreading his arms wide for an embrace.
"There's no need to apologize, Lord Brezdan mo Lorkhaz. I understand you wouldn't send your son to meet me in your stead without a compelling reason," I replied with a friendly smile, hugging the man.
The scent of citrus and some kind of spicy seasoning struck my nose. It seemed the head of House Lorkhaz was fond of aromatic YiTish oils. I wasn't too surprised by such a greeting. In this way, the Ghiscari immediately showed that he regarded me as a friend, almost a close relative. Brezdan, one might say, was officially declaring that my House and his were on very close and warm terms. Breaking the embrace, the man looked me over with interest, just as I did him.
Well, my expectations weren't disappointed. Grazdan's father had a generally athletic figure, though a bit softened by fat. Soft facial features, dark brown eyes, oiled reddish hair, a neat beard, and a dazzling white smile were instantly appealing. His traditional attire in green and gold, complemented by gold rings and bracelets, clearly indicated the Ghiscari's high status. Still, what else could be expected from the most powerful aristocrat in New Ghis?
"These are my companions. Zirarro na Zakloz, captain of the Sea Panther, and Elario Basco, commander of the legionaries accompanying me." After briefly introducing my retainers, who earned only a couple of moments of Brezdan's attention, I prepared to listen to the names and positions of the Lorkhaz family representatives.
The Great Master's limited interest in Zirarro and Basco didn't surprise me at all. One of them was, after all, a bastard, and the other merely a commoner, and neither held particularly important positions.
Following the introductions and general greetings from the pyramid master's kin, new faces began to arrive in the hall. First, a delegation of four knights in dark yellow doublets walked through the open doors. The warriors accompanied a man of about forty and a teenager a couple of years younger than me.
By the black and yellow colors predominant in their clothing, I easily identified Lord Costayne and his heir. The aristocrat from the Reach was the proud owner of a decent beer belly, a reddish nose, and pockmarked cheeks. The somewhat awkward teenager walking beside his father was overly thin, and his disheveled straw-colored hair only added to the youth's comical appearance.
Seeing the lord and his heir, Zirarro quietly snorted.
"I was expecting to see a seasoned wolf and a young wolf cub."
"Do not be deceived by the appearance of my guests," the head of House Lorkhaz emphasized the last phrase. "Tommen only seems like a good-natured drunkard. In the twenty years we have known each other, this man has tripled his House's wealth. And Owen, his eldest son, spends most of his time with his father, helping in his affairs. A worthy young man."
I raised an eyebrow in confusion at such a flattering assessment. For a Ghiscari aristocrat to praise someone for their business acumen... this lord truly had to be a genius of trade.
"Your Grace." Drawing closer, the Reach lord bowed respectfully, then continued seriously, "My name is Tommen Costayne, Lord of Three Towers. This is my heir, Owen," a nod towards the slightly embarrassed youth, "I fought on your House's side during Robert's Rebellion. I am glad to see that the legacy of Aegon the Conqueror is still alive."
"I am also glad to see you, Lord Costayne." I nodded amiably, sinking deep into thought. This nobleman was clearly here for a reason. Perhaps he was meant to convey some proposal from his liege, the Hightower, though I also entertained the possibility of a secret letter from the Tyrells. In any case, I had to be extremely cautious in my words and not trust Costayne. Although his House supported the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion, they eagerly fought on the side of Daemon Blackfyre, the bastard of Aegon the Unworthy, when he raised his revolt. On the other hand, Tommen himself showed loyalty to my dynasty, and since his House loves to get involved in all sorts of dubious ventures, I think we'll find common ground.
"I think Owen would be more interested in the company of my younger son and his peers." Greeting Tommen, Brezdan clapped the youth standing next to him on the back.
"Hey, Owie! Come on quickly, they finally delivered the YiTish stallion to the stables last night. He's magnificent!" The red-haired, freckled boy enthusiastically grabbed Owen's hand and led him toward a group of peers.
"Ha-ha! Youth," Brezdan smiled.
"I remember at their age we were already running off to brothels, thinking we'd escaped the guards and everything would remain a secret from our parents," Tommen supported his old acquaintance cheerfully.
The members of the Lorkhaz family departed, as did the knights accompanying the Costaynes. I sent my own men away as well. We were only at a welcoming feast now, but it was customary here to signal the position of the parties before negotiations, so extremely serious topics could be raised in a small circle. I doubt Lord Tommen would discuss important matters in the presence of a large number of people.
"Oh, and here comes your neighbor," Brezdan mo Lorkhaz turned his head toward the gate.
"Dornishmen. To the Seven Hells with such neighbors," the Lord of Three Towers grumbled, twisting his lips.
I quietly chuckled, observing the four tall, tanned men, dressed in knee-length orange robes with scimitars at their belts. The Martell guards immediately noticed the Reach knights and twisted their faces just like Costayne. Legends were told about how much the people of the Reach disliked the Dornishmen. Indeed, every couple of years, small skirmishes occur on the border between the regions between the "sand snakes" and the "earthworms," as these peoples affectionately call each other.
Following the warriors came the one they were guarding. Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper. An eternally cheerful and smiling young man with a short, bristly crop of black hair, a neat, short beard, and deep brown eyes. His gold-embroidered robe was cinched around his waist with a thick, long orange belt, from which a scimitar in a richly decorated scabbard was suspended.
When the delegation approached, the escorting warriors moved towards the knights; they would surely exchange caustic jokes with the Reachmen until the end of the feast. Oberyn joyfully spread his arms and cried out merrily.
"Ha! It's Viserys Targaryen himself, the great warrior and cleverest commander!"
"Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, the genius of the spear who, in his young years, has already gained fame throughout Essos with his brave company of sellswords!" I hugged the Dornishman, smiling sincerely.
Though this scoundrel loved to constantly tease me and never missed a chance to boast about his niece, "a beauty and a clever girl," I was fond of the Dornishman. Yes, he was intelligent, cunning, and insidious, which made him undoubtedly dangerous. But at the same time, he was sincere with friends, responsive, and open. I didn't sense the kind of rot in him that one sometimes encounters in people.
"Don't worry, maybe you'll get your own nickname soon. Of course, not as sonorous as mine, but I'm sure a little ray of glory will touch you too." Chuckling, Martell stepped back from me and exchanged neutral greetings with Lorkhaz and Costayne.
I merely gave a merry snort at his remark. I could already imagine his face when he found out about my dragon. Through the intelligence network, it's easy to let rumors circulate among the people and gain the right nickname; for instance, Dragon Emperor or Viserys the Golden Dragon sounds pretty good. I'll clap him on the shoulder with a nasty smile later and tell him that perhaps he, too, will find some little worm he can tame.
"I think we can begin." After surveying the hall, where about a hundred people had gathered, Brezdan nodded to several Ghiscari.
The four of us settled down at the table furthest from the entrance, flanked by the others. Seeing this, the rest of the guests also began to take their places.
Surveying the hall again, Brezdan mo Lorkhaz began his speech:
"I thank all those who responded to the invitation of House Lorkhaz and came here this day! Today we welcome Prince Viserys Targaryen, who has arrived in glorious New Ghis! Many of you wish to speak with me or with the Prince, but negotiations are not a swift matter. After the feast, servants will notify you of the meeting schedule. I assure you, friends, each of you will spend your waiting time in the best rooms of my pyramid. And now, I propose we begin the meal, and may we be blessed by the Gracious Goddess!"
"May we be blessed!" a chorus of voices supported him.
Taking a couple of sips from the goblet, which a quick-witted servant girl of about twelve had filled, I began on the spicy seafood soup, zirku, a traditional Ghiscari dish.
Everyone ate in silence; only the rustling of the servants' clothes disturbed the quiet. A local custom. All conversations only after the first course. Considering that a person involuntarily becomes more good-natured after eating, this is a good tradition for a merchant people.
"The zirku within these walls is always exquisite. What is the secret? My cooks have never been able to replicate such splendor." Washing down the last shrimp with a mighty gulp of wine, Oberyn complimented the pyramid's master.
"If it were not exquisite, my cooks would lose their heads. That is what imparts the zirku with its special flavor," Brezdan mo Lorkhaz chuckled, dabbing his mustache with a snow-white napkin.
I imperceptibly grimaced and drained my goblet. I saw it in Brezdan's eyes, what he said in a jester's tone was, in fact, the truth. Such customs and laws were like a handful of snow down my collar on a hot summer day. Very sobering and a stark reminder of the time I was in.
The Middle Ages.
A time when a person's life is worth exactly as much as the profit they can bring. Especially for rulers like Brezdan, those who clawed their way to the top of the food chain. That is, the most cruel, intelligent, and calculating. By his logic, if a cook shames him before his guests, the servant is useless garbage that should be disposed of. I don't think I can completely eradicate slavery when I conquer Slaver's Bay, but introducing laws prohibiting such treatment of people is entirely possible. Yes, this is definitely something to ponder.
"My Lord Viserys, I hear you are an excellent swordsman. Would you do me the honor of joining me for a couple of friendly duels tomorrow morning?" Lord Tommen inquired, inclining his head respectfully.
"I believe that is possible," I replied with a gracious smile. It's unlikely Costayne genuinely wants to test his strength sparring with me. Most likely, there will be no outsiders on the field, and he can convey the proposal that the Queen of Thorns has for me. I am almost certain that the Tyrell matriarch sent the Lord of the Reach to New Ghis with a message for me.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
"At the top of the Lorkhaz pyramid, there is a magnificent garden; the singing of birds and the scent of flowers brought from all over the world wonderfully complement the taste of wine and young lamb meat. How do you feel about dining there tomorrow in my company?" the head of House Lorkhaz proposed.
"With pleasure. Grazdan told me about this astonishing place that your beautiful wife created. I will look forward to our meeting." I smiled in response. I have a feeling Oberyn is about to make me an offer too.
"Ho-ho, I see you're popular in these parts, Viserys. We haven't seen each other in so long! I hope you don't have plans for the evening of the day after tomorrow? I suggest we visit the House of Flowers. It's a wonderful place where one can chat and drink excellent Dornish wine in the company of women of every taste!" Leaning forward slightly, Oberyn lowered his voice and whispered, "They say there's even a girl with three breasts there." Waggling his eyebrows, the Dornishman burst into cheerful laughter.
"I'm not opposed. The main thing is that this House of Flowers doesn't have a boy with two... shafts." I waved my hand, causing a new wave of laughter.
No other particularly important topics were raised for the rest of the evening. I was merely introduced to envoys from the future rebels of Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor, with whom I would have to speak throughout the week.
The feasting ended late into the night, by which time only the most alcohol-resistant guests remained in the hall. I managed to last until the end only thanks to my magically enhanced constitution. Staggering from the wine, which I had to drink after every one of Brezdan's toasts, he rattled them off like a machine gun, I returned to my room supported by a pair of servant girls assigned to me by the Lorkhaz family. I have a feeling that tomorrow's sparring sessions with Lord Tommen will be conducted with a serious hangover...
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