1.06 - Aelyx

Aelyx - 06 ​

"Aelyx, I am going to head towards the wharf, are you finished here?" The call came, interrupting my conversation with the merchant. I turned from the man to glance over my shoulder at my companion.

"Not quite, go on without me," I replied. Laenor gave a wave of acknowledgment, before spinning on his heel to stroll down the sloping street toward the docks. I returned my attention to the merchant who attempted to hide his annoyance at the disruption.

"Now, where were we?"

"I believe ser that we had settled on twenty stags a yard." He prompted.

I narrowed my eyes. "I don't believe we had settled at all. I think five and ten stags a yard is more than fair."

"I would not make a profit if I sold it so low. Eight and ten is the lowest I can go"

"One hundred for all six yards" I countered

"Deal." I frowned, I suspected I had been slightly bilked, but the last few years on Driftmark had given me a fairly good sense of the average price of most of the goods moving through the markets of Spicetown, so I knew I had not been outrageously cheated.

"I will have the silk packaged and delivered to High Tide, immediately ser."

"And I will see to it that payment is sent to you." While he may have insisted on immediate payment from a member of his class or even some of the lower nobility, I was now an undisputed member of the royal house and a close associate of his liege lord, my credit was not in question. After straitening out the last few details I departed the fabrics stall and wandered down towards the water. Aside from the Nest, Spicetown was my favorite place on the island. A dozen different cultures converged in this burgeoning trade port, creating an atmosphere of beautiful chaos. Ships from as far north as Ibben and as far south as the Summer Isles docked here. A merchant might hawk Tyroshi brandy next to another selling Westerlands jewelry, who was in turn flanked by a man extolling the virtue of Braavosi dyes. Of course, what was displayed by the street vendors represented only a small fraction of the merchandise that passed through the town. The rest of the business on the island was primarily the result of wholesalers who bought the entire contents of the ship's holds before transferring the cargo to departing vessels and onto its final destination. Driftmark, I had long since learned, was a trading hub rather than a final destination and ninety-nine percent of the cargo that passed through its ports was headed somewhere else. There was a certain energy to the whole place and if you asked any passerby on the street, they would assuredly tell you that Spicetown was well on its way to becoming one of the great trading centers of the known world. And yet if nothing changed, a decade from now Spicetown would be destroyed. The Triarchy would burn the town, loot the wealth and enslave large segments of the populace. I gritted my teeth; I was well aware that the Dance itself was most likely inevitable. As long as Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron drew breath there would be people willing to try and put them on the throne. But that did not mean that the course of the war itself was set in stone. I was fairly confident that between my foreknowledge and Vhagar I would be able to significantly tip events in favor of the Blacks. Worse came to worse, I would just make sure that I remained close enough to the bay to intercept the fleet, it is not as though it would be the first time that Vhagar has burned an armada.

As I approached the docks, I began to search for Laenor. This was the fourth such excursion on which I had accompanied him. For all that my father had assured me that he had no intention's on Laenor's life, the simple truth was that I didn't trust the Rogue Prince. And so, I had resolved to join the Velaryon heir on his frequent trips to Spicetown. I hoped that my presence would dissuade any agents of my father from attempting any assassination. However, after the last three uneventful visits, I had begun to relax. The one thing that kept me wary was the well-known disintegration of Laenor's relationship with Qarl Correy. The two men's romance had been something of an open secret around the island and over the past few weeks Qarl had been stomping around like a jilted lover. I had honestly begun to wonder if Laenor's death really resulted from a domestic dispute. It did make a certain degree of sense; lover's quarrels had been resulting in murders since time immemorial. Over the millennia far more people had died at the hands of a romantic partner than as a result of some elaborate assassination plot.

I finally caught sight of Laenor standing by a docked ship. He was conversing, with a man whom I assumed was the ship's captain. I had not known Laenor, particularly well before Laena's death, but over the last few weeks, I had come to genuinely enjoy his company. He was hardly the typical Westrosi idea of masculinity, having absolutely no interest in martial pursuits. But, he was well educated and urbane with a clever mind for trade. Oh, he had flaws, he absolutely refused to put effort into anything that he did not enjoy or at least possess a talent for, and his preference for passive-aggressive sniping instead of confronting his issues could be grating.

He noticed me out of the corner of his eye and gave a nod of acknowledgment, but continued the conversation. As he did not indicate that I was to join him, I stood back and watched the unloading process. The cargo was hoisted from the hold by a treadwheel crane and then swung over the docks, to waiting wagons. Suddenly I heard a crack emanating from within the crane. I watched with horror as the rope went slack, sending its cargo plunging onto the docks below.

"Look out!" I shouted dashing forward, my voice echoed by a dozen similar cries. Our calls alerted two men speaking in the shadow of the ship. They turned as one. I had a brief moment to see the confusion written across their faces before several hundred pounds of crates were crushed into the docks' wooden planks.

I stumbled to stop as the pier shook and splintered. It was a testament to the sturdiness of the construction that half of us weren't pitched into the sea. I moved forward cautiously, no longer in a hurry I had no illusion about anyone's ability to survive that. Laenor Velaryon was dead.

Realizing the crowd gathering around me, I raised my voice.

"That is Ser Laenor under there, someone needs to go to High Tide and tell them what happened." Immediately a few men peeled away from the group and sprinted towards the keep.

"The rest you help me move this." Maybe it was the fine cut of my clothes marking me as highborn, or maybe they were just reacting to the only person issuing commands in this mess, but they followed me."

We began to haul the debris away. It was hard punishing work, in addition to the weight the shattered crates had left sharp fragments of wood and massive splinters strewn throughout the pile. At some point, someone handed me a pair of gloves to stop me from cutting my hands into ribbons. When we finally cleared the ruble the sight we found was grotesque, even in a world used to sudden and violent death. The two men had been turned into a paste by the weight o the crates. It was only through the coloring of the clothes and hair that I was able to tell the two corpses apart. I fought down a surge of nausea. Around me, several of the sailors and dockhands were not so strong and began to heave. The smell of vomit tipped me over the edge and I stumbled to the side of the dock to let loose my breakfast.

"Out of the way!"

"Move!" Two voices shouted through the din, as their owners shoved their way through the milling crowds. I recognized the tones of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand I moved to intercept them. They knew what had occurred as soon as they saw my face.

"You don't want to see this." I tried to tell them. They did not heed my warning.