Dromarin POV
"Spread out the seeds, Laria." Dromarin said loudly as he tapped his staff against the stone barrier of the terraced farm. "Use the line of the wall as a guide on where to spread the seeds." He added as he gazed down from the upper most terrace farm.
The soil could not sustain good growth of crops if there were too many seeds planting in the same location. The soil they imported every year from the Summer Islanders may be good but the weather was too frigid on their island so they had to be careful with what and how they planted.
"Yes grandsire!" Laria shouted out and he could her childish frustration in her voice as she continued to spread seeds from her basket though he could see her regain her focus.
'Good' Dromarin thought to himself as he walked achingly across the stone wall that functioned as a path. His granddaughter may only be one and ten namedays and hated working in the field, but everyone needed to do their part for their community, his eyes parting from his working granddaughter to the others who were planting seeds.
Young and old, there were none who did not do their duty and work for the community. It had been like that since the day Nymera and Druselka abandoned them here.
Dromarin continued to walk along the length of the wall, his old eyes studying the laid stone for any that might need replacing. Though rain was sparse, when rain did fall, it fell like waves upon shores, drowning land and stone with hard rain.
It was part of why they had such difficulty growing crops on the flatter lands and the terrible rock soil only made it worse.
For generations, they struggled to feed themselves but, with time and desperation, they managed to tame the island and its harshness and managed to succeed in sustaining their people from the land and the seas.
Dromarin made his way down the steps that ran down the side of the terraced farms, his eyes washing over them and the stones that kept the soil and the sandy and rocky soil that lay beneath. That was until Second Cataclysm.
It took them another two hundred years before they developed this method of farming, high on the mountain and beyond the easy grasp of pirates that had plagued his ancestors for generations after the Second Cataclysm, where they built on the lone mountain, building terraced farms where they laid the imported rich fertile soil of the Summer Isles on top where underneath, there was sandy and rocky soil which itself was on top of gravel and rocks.
The terraces never flood as the water is filtered down through the soils and stones until it sinks into the mountain below where the rain gets collected in caves and in aqueducts that fed into the many wells that their people and their livestock used.
Dromarin gazed upon his people who worked to plant the seeds in time for harvest. The few scrolls that remained were long written after the Second Cataclysm, though the memory of it had still been fresh in the minds of the generations after, and had spoken of the despair that had befallen on his ancestors in the years and decades after their people had been whittled down to just a thousand.
Even now, centuries later, as Dromarin looked upon the hundreds of people who were planting seeds, their numbers had only surpassed half the numbers of the time of what sadly could be considered to be their golden age, and it had been a true struggle to reach even that number.
They were still plagued by pirates who sought to enslave them, though they found it not easy for their people had learnt and were all learned in the art of the spear, girl and boy and women and men alike, and they often lost too many to them, he thought bitterly, but they were as good a place they had been in centuries, he thought with some bitter sweetness as he tapped the butt of the spear against the weathered steps their ancestors carved into the mountain as he made his way down towards the path that lead up to a series of steps that would take him to the villages topside.
It was on this path that he saw a few of the boys running up the steps towards him, boys that should be on the water fishing and he knew immediately something was wrong and there could only be one thing that would send these boys racing up the steps in such a fashion.
"Elder!" the boy named Cyrenn called out in a pant as he raced up the last few steps. "Ships are approaching! Quentyn has rallied everyone to the fortress!"
Dromarin's hand tightened onto his staff as he thought on the situation. He had hoped that the last few years of peace would last a while longer. "Go." Dromarin said hurriedly "Get the others." Quentyn had sent these boys to call upon all men and women still strong enough to wield a spear, Dromarin knew.
The boys scurried off and before long, as he made his way towards the juncture of stairway that would lead directly to the fortress' southern side, scores of men and women with their spears ran down the steps towards the fortress and Dromarin kept an eye out for his granddaughter and he caught her by the arm when she tried to pass him by.
"No. You're too young. You know the rules." Dromarin said sternly as he looked upon his granddaughter's deviant face.
Their people were too few and should the worst happen, the young must be plentiful enough so that their people could carry on. Those like him would be burdened with teaching them all that their people knew so that the little they knew and remembered would not be forgotten.
"The rules are stupid! I'm the best with the spear amongst my age! I could help!" she said angrily as she tried to jerk her arm free from his grasp. 'Alleras, your daughter is a handful' Dromarin said with a sigh and he let go off his staff and placed his free hand onto her shoulder, holding her still.
"Laria of House Trebor!" Dromarin said with a strong voice that verged just below shouting and it made her fight less against him as she looked at him with desperate and betrayed eyes.
"You are the last of our family, Laria. My family. You cannot fight." Dromarin said firmly as he met his granddaughter's brown eyes. She was his last surviving grandchild, her brother Borinn having been taken by the winter chill two years ago.
Out of six children and four grandchildren, she was his only family from his seed left.
"What would our family legacy be if I abandon the fight like Nymera and the others abandoned our family, grandfather?!" Laria said angrily as she managed to jerk free her arm from his grasp though his hand was still on her shoulder.
"Father would want me to fight the pirates like he did!" Laria added and a smack rang as his hand connected with her left cheek, turning her face to the right.
"Your father doesn't want anything more." His voice was still bitter despite nearly a decade having past by, his hand resting heavy on her shoulder.
"I am left t-" he stumbled as his hand that been on Laria's shoulder gave way when she twisted and crouched suddenly felt nothing but air and as he caught his balance once more and tried to grab at her, and failed, soon he saw nothing but her back as she raced down towards the fortress, a feeling dismay washing over him.
"Laria!" he called out after her yet he heard nothing in response and he quickly, as much as he could, followed suit as others from the villages above raced passed him.
He arrived at top of the steps that lead down the pass into the fortress, a fortress that was carved into the mountain where all on sides except for the pass at the back of the fortress was rocky and sharp and incredibly difficult to climb, and impossible for lazy pirates, and saw in the distance two large ships and a single rowboat that was approaching the shores and he frowned heavily at the sight.
This was not ordinary pirates as they would have come with more than just two ships and would have launched a dozen rowboats to attack.
The ships were clearly not Swan ships either, and thus very unlikely to be Summer Islanders too who had never come to their island for as long as he had lived, which was why he could not discount that these were not pirates, and all in all, he was…unsure what this situation was.
He heard shouting down the fortress, shouting that echoed against the rocks of the pass, a feature they often used to relay messages back to the top as the channels they carved into the mountain carried sound well, and he made his way down to the fortress.
The hundreds of warriors were surrounding the leaders of the warband, Quentyn and Obella, who were arguing about whether or not they were to meet the pirates on the rowboat on the shore…and whether or not they were to kill them or to take them for interrogation.
It seemed that they were just as confused as to what was happening.
"We should not attack until we have to." The one and twenty Quentyn said harshly as Dromarin made his way through the crowd of warriors, his eyes searching for his granddaughter who he had yet to see amongst the bodies of warriors.
"Boy, you're advocating for things you do not understand." The eight and forty nameday old Obella said calmly as she stared down Quentyn, her likely successor as the primary leader of the warband.
"These are not Summer Islanders coming to trade. They have not come to our shores for ten generations. They have no reason to come today." Obella said with authority, and her words were keenly agreed by with the rest of the warriors.
Their people might to go Walano or the other smaller islands near it to trade for their soil and their fruits twice a year, but beyond that?
"Even if you say that it could not possibly be the Summer Islanders, we see only one boat coming to our shores which is clearly a sign that they do not come with foul intent. Provoking them when there is no need is folly!" Quentyn returned heatedly and Dromarin sighed knowing that the young man had a point though it seemed that his words divided their warband more than the words of Obella did.
"There is only one reason why others would come to our island, boy, and it has been so for as long as we have made this island our home." Obella gestured with her spear towards the direction of the shore beyond the walls of the fortress as she spoke again "And that boat carries those who wish to see what our strength is."
This had gotten approvals from the elder warriors and a good few of the younger warriors that were not in Quentyn's camp alike.
"We can decide after they've come to shore." Dromarin said before Quentyn could respond and eyes turned to him. He continued "We know the likes of pirates and slavers. That should drive our decision." Dromarin said and it was then that he saw his granddaughter stand amongst a group of youngers, older boys and girls that he'd seen her practice with countless of times.
She'd tied her long brown hair into a tail and seemed to be given an old weathered wooden shield that Dromarin did not think could remain intact after more than one or two blows. Yet from the look on her face, he could see that she would not be dissuaded from her course.
"Dromarin." Obella said respectfully even if her face was cold as she stared at him. "It would be a mistake."
"No, it would be a mistake to cause a conflict if there is not a need, Obella. You know as well as I do the cost of conflict. Are you so eager to see more of our kin follow our children to death, when there might not be a need?" Dromarin's voice was quiet and he knew it was a low blow but the older warriors really should know better than to let their anger speak for them.
Quentyn looked at him with a grateful expression on his face. How strange it was that the younger generation was more careful and mindful of the lives of their people than their elders who should be the ones with the pearls of wisdom.
Dromarin looked around and saw that his words resonated with the majority and that was all that he needed. And all that Quentyn needed as he began to speak again, and began making strategies and assigning people to tasks and groups.
He himself was tasked to go speak with the foreigners.
"I should run you with my spear, Dromarin." Obella said coldly as they walked on the stony shore towards the men by the beached boat.
"You hadn't done it five and twenty years ago for a graver offense, Obie. I wouldn't think you would be so angry for truthful words." Dromarin said as he glanced at her and saw that she wore the same cold face though he could see the anger in her eyes.
"Ghoyan isn't here anymore to make me to think again and his memory has long since faded." Obella said calmly but the intent of her words were anything but calm as she mentioned the name of his first born son of his first wife.
Ghoyan had wooed Obella who had been eight years his older and a woman much vied for, for she had been a beauty and the best warrior amongst her generation, and had been a man any father could proudly call son and any woman proudly call husband.
Both Ghoyan and Mors, Obella's and Ghoyan's only child, had died in the deadliest and heaviest slaver attack for over four generations, along with his eldest daughter and third son.
Whilst Dromarin had lost much of his vigour in the wake of the deaths of three of his children and a grandchild, Obella had instead turned colder, incredibly careless that most mistook for bravery and skill and even more so brutal, having lead their warriors on two other occasions pirates and slavers attacked their island, brutally impaling the surviving slavers and pirates onto the shore for the seagulls to pick at.
Dromarin's nodded silently as he looked towards the men by the boat who he could tell from their dark skin were most certainly Summer Islanders, much to his relief though it was tempered with heavy wariness.
They came to a stop some hundred metres from the Summer Islanders and the Summer Islanders made their way towards them.
"I am Sodhabbas Qhaxos" the Summer Islander said in Rhoynish, his head bowed, catching both he and Obella by surprise though neither of them showed it to them.
Qhaxos was a noble name, a Prince's name at that. "Why have you come, Summer Islander of Omboru? Your people have not come to our island for as long as we have been here." He kept his voice level even if he felt some bitterness about it.
The Summer Islanders had kept their distance from their island, from their people, since the moment they 'gave' them this rock to settle many centuries ago.
He'd been to one of their islands before, when he'd been a young man.
To see their lands so rich and lush, in comparison to their practically barren rock they fought with blood and hunger to make worth something, was something that stuck with him, and he imagined, had stuck in the mind of all of his ancestors.
Qhaxos inclined his head respectfully. "I have not come on the behalf of the Princes of the Summer Isles. I have come on the behalf of Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, the last of the Dragonlord families."
"Obella, wait!" Dromarin's voice was sharp as Obella raised her spear. and Dromarin stepped across from her, initiating some hesitancy in her, enough for him to catch her gaze and, as he turned around to hide his face from the Summer Islanders, he did all he could to signal to her to understand him as he looked upon her with an expression that he hoped she would understand as 'we cannot fight against one of them'
It seemed to drag like a lifetime, when their eyes met and finally, Obella regained her wits and brought down the butt of her spear to the ground and Dromarin let off a silent sigh of relief.
"We have heard of this Dragonlord. What does this Dragonlord want from us, Summer Islander?" Dromarin asked calmly, not acknowledging what had just transpired and he turned around to face the man who looked onto them warily and unsettled whilst the other Summer Islanders had their hands on their swords now.
"He has a proposal for you, Lord…" Qhaxos trailed off with an expectant tone.
"You may call me Elder." Dromarin said, unwilling to share his name amidst the rising concern about the whole situation that was fast growing far too fraught and he asked the Summer Islander "What does the Dragonlord want from us?"
"The Dragonlord does not want from you, rather he wants for you, Elder." Qhaxos said meaning behind his words and Dromarin narrowed his eyes.
Qhaxos continued after the silence from both him and Obella, who gratefully was letting him do the speaking and acting, "Prince Aegon has learnt of your…" Qhaxos took especial care to look around "harsh situation and has bid me to present you an offer that would see your people prosper in a different land and, in time, come to grow numerous enough to be able to take back your river Rhoyne and your ancestral lands and keep it."
"What?" Obella's incredulous and harsh voice sounded out exactly what Dromarin was thinking "You must think us fools to believe such nonsense." Obella sneered coldly at the Summer Islander as her hand tightened on her spear and she was unfazed by the looks of concern from the armed Summer Islanders as she stared down Qhaxos.
"This is nothing more than a scheme to enslave more of the last of the Rhoynar. Foolish and stupid as always but this new scheme of yours truly descends into a new low even for your kind, slaver." Obella spat out and this made the Summer Islanders bristle in anger.
"We are no slavers." Qhaxos said sternly, anger showing in his face "Do not accuse us of such monstrosity, not when us all have felt the bite of chains around our wrists and feet!"
Obella scoffed "You claim to have been slaves?" Obella looked them up and down "Some kind of slave you are." Obella mocked and Dromarin knew that she was trying to provoke them into showing their true colours.
He did nothing to stop her. He also needed this scheme to come to an end and he'd happily die if he had to.
"We were captured but not yet sold. Prince Aegon and his people destroyed the camps in the Basilisk Isles before they could sell us on the markets on the mainland." Qhaxos said to them.
"The gods smiled on you then." Obella said mockingly as she smiled bitterly and Qhaxos nodded to her words.
"Aye."
"Yet you work for the Dragonlord instead of your own people?" Dromarin asked leadingly as he studied the man trying to discern his deceptions.
"I owe him and his people a debt that I must repay."
"In the end, you're still in chains working for another." Obella bit out cruelly.
"Are we all not in chains in some way or another? I and my fellows to our debt, and you to your people to ensure your community survives?" Qhaxos returned and this made Obella scowl lightly at the man though she did not immediately respond.
"We do not believe you nor do we believe you are here on the behalf of this…Dragonlord." Dromarin interjected.
He'd heard from the others that had gone to the Summer Isles over the past five years that a Dragonlord had taken roost on Walano along with his wife and children, all of whom had dragons of their own.
He had difficulty believing even when there were too many accounts for it not to be true. Dragons…truly still existed and had still existed for over two centuries even after the Doom of Valyria.
"He is willing to come here and speak with you." Qhaxos immediately said and Dromarin ignored it though it was not easy when he spoke again.
"What is this offer of new land he is offering?"
Some time later, Qhaxos and the other Summer Islanders returned to their boat and he was left to walk back towards the fortress with Obella, his mind astray with heavy thoughts.
"You're considering it?" Obella asked and he was startled out of his thoughts and turned to look at her.
"If it is truly an honest offer…"
Obella scoffed and her face was marred with bitterness and scorn "What honestness can we expect from a Dragonlord? You know the tales, Dromarin. We would be casting aside ancient wisdom."
"To call frightful stories ancient wisdom is beyond the pale, Obella." Dromarin said disapprovingly. Dragonlords and dragons were spoken around the fires during their remembrance festivities in the same breath as the monsters in the Deep, people and beings that were blights and curses on the living.
Yet Obella also was speaking truthfully too for it would be the same reaction most of their people would have should they hear of the offer. He was almost certain they'd dismiss right out of hand and he couldn't help but think that it would be a great mistake.
The offer was too good to be true, far too good to be true, yet Dromarin could see the genuineness in the Summer Islander's expression. 'Could it be that their curse was coming to an end, at the hands of the ones who set it upon them?'
There was an old legend, a folktale that most ruefully thought about but now kept on repeating in Dromarin's head, one that spoke of the curse that followed them when the last of the Rhoynar escaped from the ashes of their cities into the open sea, a curse that withered away at the children of the Rhoyne to penalise them for running away from the Mother who even to this day sang their names and called them home.
"Yet those stories are all that we have left from our legacy, Dromarin." Dromarin looked to Obella again and saw the bitterness on her face. "A legacy that his forebearers has helped all but destroy. We cannot trust he and his ilk."
"Not even if it could lead us home?" Dromarin asked quietly and Obella sharply turned her head towards him.
"Even if it was true, which I do not and could not believe even if I saw happen before my very eyes" Obella said with a scowl "It would require to hand over the fate of our people to this Dragonlord. I would rather die than let that happen."
"Isn't our fate in the hands of the Dragonlord anyway the moment he came to know of us?" Dromarin returned to Obella. "You choose to value the old stories now so you must know that we are at his mercy and if what you think of him is correct, we're already all dead."
Obella scowled heavily and if looks could kill, he'd be dead now.
Dromarin sighed as he shook his head "We will convene a council to discuss the matter." They would reject the offer, he knew, but nonetheless…
"For once, Obella, do not try and influence their decision." Dromarin said quietly and after he received another cold glare he continued "We will come to know the truth of the offer if that Dragonlord comes with his dragon." Dromarin looked at her as he spoke intently "And if it is true…know that whatever happens to our people, will be because of us, because of how we have influenced our people."
Dromarin turned away from Obella "I can live with the advocacy I intent to share. Can you live with yours, Obella, and what it may cause?"
For the rest of the walk, they walked in silence, both of them too occupied with their troubled thoughts.
-Break-
Early to Mid 109 AC, Lotus Port
Prince Jalla POV
The sounds of a chilling roar shook his court into silence that lasted for a few moments after the roar came to an end and it broke when Jalla stood up from his seat. Whispers broke loose as Jalla glanced at his wife who smiled kindly at him though he could see the lines of displeasure on her face, no doubt unhappy by the spectacular entrance that Aegon had undoubtedly was making, one that reminded all of the…imbalance of power that existed on their island.
The doors to his hall opened and his vizier walked up before he bowed and said fretfully "Your Excellency, Prince Aegon of Corinth has come with his dragon."
'Yes…we heard' "Have the kitchens bring forth salt and bread." Jalla told his vizier.
"Of course, my Prince." His vizier said before he whispered in the ear in one of his servants who walked away out of the doors and Jall turned to his wife, Sola, with his hand stretched out and she took it.
He kissed it gently before he spoke up "I may not be back 'till sundown."
"I understand, my Prince." She said and she rose from her seat.
"I will see to our children." She said before she came up closer to him and gave him a kiss on his cheeks before she turned and left towards the doors that lead to the Royal quarters and Jalla sighed silently though he kept his face schooled when he turned and walked down towards his vizier and the guards.
"I take it he is in the gardens?" Jalla asked calmly as they walked out of the doors and into the hallways. The gardens were large enough for that dragon to land and it had done so once before. His gardeners had been most unhappy about it.
He wasn't looking forward in hearing their complaints again and his wife liked the gardens far too much for him to impress on them too harshly.
His vizier nodded.
"He and three others came on the back of the great beast, my Prince."
"Don't call the dragon beast when you're in its presence. Its smart enough to understand most things, even those that are said in our tongue." Jalla said to his vizier as he glanced at the man. His old vizier, a man who had served his father and grandfather, had died two years ago and Xhallabar had not been present for all of the times when Aegon had visited, with and without dragon.
"I had heard the claims, my Prince, but I find it difficult to believe. Those eyes are far too primal. To think such a…dragon could also be as smart as a man would be truly far too fearsome." His vizier said quietly and disturbed.
Yes, those large serpentine like eyes were very disturbing. Almost as big as a man's head, those eyes were as fearsome as the teeth in its maw. And behind those eyes was a mind unalike a man yet far too alike a man's if the little he'd seen of the dragon and what he'd been told by Aegon was true.
"At least it is no panther in its behaviour." Jalla said to his vizier who laughed a little.
"Yes, thank the gods for small mercies. We would all be in trouble if panthers were as smart as us. They're already far too smart already."
They made to the courtyard, the sight of the dragon laying down seen long before they approached it and the men who stood in front of the dragon, and Jalla couldn't help but be in awe every time he set his eyes on the dragon.
His memories always seemed to be so…underwhelming every time he was in front of the dragons that seemed to upend the world that men created for themselves, a world where the gods were a distant, out-of-the-way presence and yet, being in the presence of a creature, with its jagged spikes and curving horns, that was as tall as his palace which was as tall as ten men stacked vertically, with rows of teeth that were as long as swords, such ideations of their world being so far removed from the physical touches of the gods dies away.
And this dragon, whose rider it was guarding carefully, with his discomforting colouring that was of the same hue as that of blood and the blue of the approaching night, a dragon that was staring at him with its serpentine eyes, reminded all that it was not gods that commanded them to touch upon the world but rather those few men who were as close to gods as men could get.
Jalla tore his gaze away from the dragon and turned them towards Aegon, who was dressed in royal clothing befitting his station though Jalla could see the chainmail beneath the clothing, and made his way towards him when Aegon began to move towards him.
From the corner of his eyes, he could see the servant following him along with the guards, and as he came at a stop before Prince Aegon, the servant offered the bread and salt on a silver plate to them both. "Prince Aegon, I welcome you to my palace." Jalla said with traditional old Summer Tongue before he gestured towards the bread and salt on the plate.
"I accept your welcome with gratitude and graciousness, Prince Jalla." Prince Aegon said with in the same old Summer Tongue before both of them broke off a piece of the bread and dipped them in the salt and took a bite off of the bread.
Once the servant took away the plate, Prince Aegon stuck out his right hand and Prince Jalla took it and his middle finger snapped against the middle finger of Prince Aegon's, greeting each other as equals.
Though…the entrance and of course the dragon itself, Jalla mused as he glanced at his vizier and then towards the other nobles that were far back, dissuaded any notion of equals.
"I fear I will displease your gardeners once more once they come to see what my dear Mīsaragorn has done to their gardens and plants." Prince Aegon said with remorse in his voice though there were hints of mischief in his eyes and Jalla twisted a mild smile.
"They will be most certainly unhappy. That is, of course, until they get to organise the garden to its most beautiful."
"Ah…a labour of love, then. Nonetheless, I have brought over some seeds to smooth over some of their displeasure. Seeds of truly beautiful plants my people had been lucky enough to obtain in the Far East." The Prince said as he unclipped several small bags tied into a bundle and Jalla gestured his vizier to take the seeds.
"My gardeners shall be sure to thank you." Although they'd curse his name several dozen times before they did so.
Prince Aegon said nothing and simply inclined his head and Jalla took that as a signal to move passed to the reason why the Prince was even here in the first place.
Hours later…
Jalla kept his eyes on the bongo that they'd stalked for the last hour, the white stripped brown antelope that called jungles of Walano home, his breathing low and slow as his bowstring was pulled with slow deliberate motion, and, as the bongo looked up towards the direction of the party he knew to be approaching on his left, he let fly the arrow and he hit the bongo right on its side of the head, instantly killing the beast even if its body did not know it yet.
He let off a breath before he strapped his bow on his shoulder and gestured his guards to start moving again, the sounds of their movement sounding far too loud after nearly twenty minutes of silence.
Bongos were somewhat predictable in their movements, especially during the day where they often kept themselves to particular parts of the jungle.
It was why they'd split off in three different parties to lure the bongo towards him so that he could kill the striped animal.
One of his guards whistled loudly, signalling to the other parties that the kill has been made and Jalla made his way towards the downed bongo.
The beast was still twitching and Jalla took out his dagger and dug it into the beast' head, killing the beast in totality. "I thank you for your flesh and I offer your blood to our shared ancestral lands." Jalla said as he cut open the throat of the bongo, its blood dripping into the soil.
"May you find safe passage to the spirit lands." Jalla said in prayer with a respectful bow of the head before he stood up and his guards took out their daggers and got to work in cutting the body into carriable sizes.
It was some time later, the bongo having already its forelegs and hindlegs cut off with much else already having been cut off, that the other parties began to arrive.
With how sensitive the hearing of the bongo was, the beast would keep moving several hundred metres ahead of its trackers.
"A clean kill?" Prince Aegon asked as he arrived with his three guards in tow, his gaze on the nearly entirely cut up bongo.
"As clean as circumstances allow." Jalla said.
Prince Aegon nodded and soon enough, they were on the move back towards Lotus Port. The hunt was a time honoured tradition amongst the nobility of the Summer Isles.
In the times where night stalkers, panthers and silver pelted apes twice the size of men were as common as birds that roamed the Isles' skies, it was a show of trust and honour to hunt with another.
These days, with the silver pelted apes all but gone but in the most interior of the jungles and night stalkers and panthers reduced in numbers as the people of the Summer Isles swelled, there was little danger when one ventured into the jungles in a group such as this.
"Back in Westeros" the Prince began as they walked alongside each other, flanked as they were by their guards "We do something like this hunt in the forests."
Jalla had heard of this. He even remembered that it was on one of these hunts that the Prince's father had succumbed to injury. "They called harts, are they not?"
"Harts. Deer. Stags." Prince Aegon said with a nod. "They roam the forests typically though these days there are but few large enough to sustain their numbers."
The Westerosi and the Essosi did not respect nature like they did in the Summer Isles. He'd seen that all too much. They were often too blinded by the pursuit of personal ambitions and wants and gold to care for their nature. The only ones that seemed to be somewhat different were mayhaps the Qohori but then they only truly cared because of the defences their nature provided against the Dothraki.
"Most of the reason why the forest still exist is because of the legend that exists amongst the Westerosi" Prince Aegon continued as they walked through the dense jungle towards the plainlands.
"Legend?" he asked curiously as he glanced at the Prince.
"Aye though legend is mayhaps not the right word for the white stags do exist from time to time." Prince Aegon said to Jalla before he looked away into the depths of the jungle. "They are believed to be good omen, that which bids good fortune to those who have brought them down."
"We have similar legends." Jalla said. Such as the night stalker that was as pale as the moon, a harbinger of great triumph of some kind or another.
It is said that Xanda Qo had hunted the pale night stalker at the height of night with but a goldenheart bow and three arrows, bringing it down on her very last arrow.
Prince Aegon nodded at him "Aye, I imagine so and you can imagine that white stags have been particularly of interest to kings and princes."
Jalla inclined his head to Prince Aegon. Yes…any ruler would wish the legitimacy of what such a legendary animal would bring to their rule.
"Appearances and symbols matter a great deal to us humans, more so to those who depend on it to remain in power." Prince Aegon said and Jalla's expression remained the same though he could feel the coldness seep into the very air.
Jalla turned to Prince Aegon and saw him keep his eyes at his front and Jalla returned his gaze back to the front as well. "The men who are with us are those I trust completely." Jalla said after a long few moments of silence. He'd understood enough from their correspondence that this discussion of theirs was to be secure.
"I will take your word for it, Prince Jalla." Prince Aegon said as he turned and Jalla turned as well, meeting the Valyrian's mismatching eyes and Jalla knew that the Prince did not trust him nearly as much as his words indicated.
"You think I have fallen sway to the discontented nobles?" Jalla asked him directly, unwilling to dance around the topic. It was the reason why they were meeting, even if neither of them had spoken of it in their correspondence.
"Not yet though it doesn't help that your wife is in their camp." Prince Aegon said as he stared with unblinking eyes at Jalla and he bristled silently at the accusation.
"She is not in their camp." Jalla said sharply though it did not faze the Prince and Jalla berated himself for letting himself react so strongly.
"She is not in their camp but her concerns over my rule are not unwarranted." Jalla said as he turned away from Prince Aegon's gaze.
Concerns that she had raised with him more than on one occasion, concerns that suggested that others were starting to believe that his rulership was allowed by the Dragonlords that made their home to his East and ruled over the lands Jalla had gifted with an impunity that was unheard of.
"With that, I agree." Prince Aegon said with some tiredness in his voice and Jalla looked to him carefully. Prince Aegon continued "I am aware of how enemies can make use of the slightest openings to cause a deadly wound and my family's continued presence on your island is an easy opening to exploit against you."
"An easy opening yes but not an opening they can use to pull open a wound." Jalla returned with some coldness in his voice. There is no challenger who could defeat him in a challenge nor did any of them possess the kind of men that could win against him or the men Jalla had in his service.
Jalla continued, his countenance shifting slightly as he spoke "The thousands of freedmen and women you dumped in my city did not help matters." Jalla's voice was sharp and Prince Aegon narrowed his eyes slightly before he relaxed and inclined his head in acknowledgement.
Having to deal with the thousands of freedmen and women not of Summer Islander heritage had caused significant damage to his reputation. 'The Dragonlord commands, the Prince of Walano does the bidding'.
"Lotus Port is the only safe port that is visited freely by ships from around the world. It was the only place I could send them that was reasonably close by that I could be assured they would not be enslaved again." Prince Aegon told him and whilst that was true…
"You did not consult me." Jalla said harshly as the feelings of slight grew bolder within him "Nor did you warn me of their arrival, simply expecting my cooperation in this mess you created."
"A mess I created?" Prince Aegon's tone was calm but the look in his eyes was not "Was I meant to let them fend for themselves on the cursed Basilisk Isles?"
"You could have taken them in yourself or at the very least taken them to friendlier ports such as those in Westeros." Jalla returned before he sighed and continued.
"Do you know that not even half of them have gone yet? Some of them have run out of coin and are little better than beggars just to sustain themselves."
Prince Aegon's expression twisted slightly before he nodded faintly. "Tell me of the captains that are willing to make journeys to wherever these people call home. I will pay them for the service."
"The matter has been settled." Jalla said after a moment as he met the Valyrian's gaze. "I have already charged the merchants to take them home." By the end of the moon, Lotus Port would have rid itself of the troubled lot. It was a shame that it was coming to this but quite a few of them truly were troublesome.
Their hospitality was not boundless nor was their sympathy unlimited.
"It was not my intention to cause strife for you, Prince Jalla."
"I have no reason to think you would yet nonetheless no matter how good or benign intentions are or can be, they can often cause as much damage as intentions meant to harm and damage." Prince Jalla said meaningfully.
Prince Aegon nodded to that and they fell into a long silence and it was some time after they were on flatter lands in the jungle that one of them broke the silence.
"We'll be gone in less than three years' time." Prince Aegon suddenly said and Jalla looked at him with some wariness but mostly surprised curiosity.
Prince Aegon caught the look and offered him a faint smile. "We've decided where we're going to make our home. I am sure you've heard of happenings in my town."
"Yes." Jalla said as memories of reports obtained from the villagers around Corinth was brought to the forefront. Tales of galleons, monstrously large ships that dwarfed any that Jalla knew of, being built relentlessly, tales that spoke of the people of Corinth preparing to leave to go somewhere else, some of them even claiming that they were going West, were amongst the most occurring of tales.
"Three years?" Jalla said in an inquisitive tone.
"If I had my way, I would have done it sooner. Alas…"
Jalla waved away with his hand "That is not my intent, my friend." Jalla said as he met Prince Aegon's gaze. "Merely…"
"Surprised that I and my people actually leaving?" Prince Aegon posed with some dryness in his voice and Aegon raised his hand in a diplomatic way "I jest, Prince Jalla, and mayhaps I do so in poor taste given the seriousness of the matter concerning the instability my and my family's presence cause to your rule."
"You give yourself far too much credit, Prince Aegon." Jalla said with an unimpressed look. Whilst it was true that his rule was not entirely comfortable, especially since his way of ruling was different from the absoluteness with which his uncle had ruled with, one way or another, it would have been not comfortable anyway.
As much as he had right and blood to rule Walano, he had been away for many years, having spent most of his life away from his home island than in it when he won back his father's crown, and it would always have been a point against him.
Jalla had been as good as exiled even if he never took part of the challenge and it would be a weapon that would be used against him for as long as he…or his enemies lived.
Today it was the Dragonlords that provided the scorpion bolt to their arsenal but tomorrow…tomorrow it would be simply something else.
Ironically, with the presence of the Dragonlords, and the friendship he shared with Prince Aegon, their conspiring was hardly much of a threat given the fear the dragons inspired in them. None would like to burn alive with their families after all.
"Nevertheless, my surprise is merely that three years is quite long given that you should be able to travel to your…new home...much sooner than that given the hardwood you have been purchasing." Jalla said with a probing note in his voice.
"We're building up our fleet before we depart. I'm sure you know that those hardwoods are intended for the construction of our galleons."
Jalla nodded though he was not sure why they were so focused on building those huge ships. From what he could tell, only something like fifty more people could travel on them yet the ships were easily twice the size of one of their carracks.
Not for the first time was he wondering if the tales of discovery of a route West was true. Those ships were most certainly built to withstand the mountainous waves of the western sea. "I see." Jalla said carefully as he stared at the Prince, debating on whether or not to ask directly.
He decided against it, in the few moments of silence, knowing that it would do little but sour their discussion if he confirmed his spying on Corinth.
"Will you cease purchasing the freedoms of your people in that time?" Jalla asked.
"No. We aim to purchase as many as we can in the time we have. Unfortunately, that'll be less than we would have ideally wanted but…" Prince Aegon trailed off.
"Still, when we depart, we will have a good number of people with us." Prince Aegon returned his gaze to Jalla. "And that will leave Corinth to do as you please."
"So, you will return the lands I gifted you?"
"The lands were never meant to be gifted in perpetuity, Prince Jalla." Prince Aegon said with an amused glint in his eyes.
"Of course it was not." Prince Jalla said with a shrug of the shoulders. "I am glad that you have not failed to understand that." There was humour in his voice.
When the Prince had come to him to discuss how Jalla could repay him for the debt, he'd made sure that Prince Aegon understood that it was not to be a permanent gift. Mayhaps had the Prince been something other than a dragonlord, someone far less threatening to the prestige and power of to the position of Prince of Walano, mayhaps the gift could have been made permanent.
There have been occasions such had been done on the home Isles after all.
Prince Aegon chuckled before it petered away and a look of soberness came across his face. "Corinth will hold a special place in my and my people's hearts, Jalla." Prince Aegon said as he met Jalla's gaze. "It has been a place where my people have grown in ways I could scarcely hoped to see."
Yes…the people of Corinth were an impressive and industrious lot. If only half of his people in Lotus Port had shown the same industry, Lotus Port may well have been able to compete with the likes of Braavos and Asabhad for most visited port.
Though…Jalla had to admit to himself, mayhaps they could have been had he been even half the kind of man Prince Aegon was and as much as he was as envious as he was impressed by the achievements of the Prince before him, he knew that he did not wish to be driven by whatever drove Prince Aegon.
The boy he'd known on Dragonstone and in Kings Landing, the boy that rarely rested and always seemed to be preoccupied with something or another, had grown into a man that had the power and will to see into vision his wants and desires.
Commerce, inventions, people, none were anything the man was uninterested in tackling and it would not surprise Jalla if the man barely slept.
No, Prince Jalla thought to himself, he was content with his way of life and there was no shame in that.
"And it is why I wish to share with you the ideas I have with what to do with the town when we leave." Prince Aegon said, drawing him out of his thoughts.
Jalla looked at the Prince curiously and so the Prince shared his ideas and what Jalla would gain in return for his agreement with his plans.
Admittedly, Jalla was surprised by the somewhat sentimental ideals that Prince Aegon had in mind when he presented his offer, one that Jalla couldn't help but ponder on long after the Prince and his guards departed on the dragon.
"Will you tell me know what the dragon-prince has said to have you deep in your thoughts hours later, husband?" Sola's question brought him out of his mind and back into their bedroom and he turned to face her.
He'd not told any of his advisors and his vizier on what had been discussed between he and Prince Aegon, not since he had not quite decided if he was to accept the offer or not.
Previously, he'd wished to raise a city in the lands where Corinth was now, which many centuries ago hosted a prosperous city in its vicinity before it was burned to the ground by slavers.
Unlike Lotus Port which had been rebuilt after being sacked in the time of his grandfather's childhood, the city – and its name – had been lost to history, only songs remaining of the tale, and the lands around it had been left for nature to recover it.
Nothing was to stop him exactly of doing what he had planned, merely…allow for the city to also stand symbolically for something else.
"He presented an interesting offer to me." He said in response.
"An offer?" Sola said questioningly with some suspicion in her voice. "What offer?"
"When he and his people leave Corinth, he wishes the town to be a haven for those who have need of it, like the people Prince Aegon has taken in." Prince Jalla said absentmindedly. They discussed far more than that, like the secret behind liquid stone that he'd gift to Jalla should he accept the terms, but it was the heart of the matter.
"Wait…the Prince and his people are leaving?" Sola questioned, latching on to the part that was most important to her.
"Yes. In a few years." Jalla said as he began to undress himself of his clothes.
"That…that is good news." Sola said with heavy relief in her voice. "It will dissuade most from joining the likes of Zanodhos when they hear of the news."
"You concern yourself too much about him, Sola." Jalla's voice was sharp as he turned towards her. "He is a halfwit that believes too much in his own strength."
"A halfwit that those that supported your uncle, who still support your uncle even now after he's been exiled, would prefer see in your place." Sola said harshly before she exhaled heavily "In a challenge, it does not matter nearly as much if you have the wits or not, only that you have the skill and strength to win and Zanodhos..."
"Let's not bring up the same argument again today, not when we both know that nothing has changed even with this news, even if you think that our enemies' cause will be weakened when we both know that Prince Aegon's presence mattered not even in the slightest." Jalla said to his wife with a fixed look.
"Just as we both know he will challenge me one day and that day will likely come as soon as Prince Aegon has gone." Jalla said critically.
Zanodhos was his second cousin and so he had a claim to his title. A tempestuous cousin who lusted after his title and the benefits it gave him and a man who was far more amenable to manipulations unlike Jalla…or his uncle.
Jalla walked up to his wife who still bore a pinched expression. He'd unmake that pinch soon enough and his expression must have been clear to see for his wife lost the aggrieved glint in her eyes and in its stead came a look that he liked very much.