A Tale of Blood and Monsters Ch. 5 - Interlude

Year 277 AC

Essos – Braavos

The Sealord of Braavos stared at the man before him in silence for so long that the adviser began to twitch in discomfort. Finally, words left the leader's lips, "What did you say?"

Swallowing thickly, the man opposite of him licks his lips and repeats himself, "The House of Black and White stirs my Lord. The Faceless Men are moving."

In response, the Sealord's hands curl around the arms of his chair until his knuckles are almost white with tension. He hisses out angrily, "The Faceless Men are always moving. The House of Black and White may be one of the oldest parts of Braavos, but they are also one of its most independent parts. We do not discuss their doings casually, and we never question their actions. So, what could you possibly have heard that has brought you to me?"

The adviser is speechless for a moment before he gathers himself and speaks in a quiet tone, "The Faceless Men have reconvened. They have a new target."

Seeing the Sealord's face beginning to become stormy with anger, the man quickly continues on, "My Lord it's not what you think! Nobody hired them for this. It's not just another contract. All of them are moving for this target. All of them."

The Sealord returns to staring at the man before him in silence, the budding anger disappearing from his face at this replaced by an emotionless expression. A hand gesture is the only warning the adviser gets, and it's not nearly enough as he has no idea what it means until his head is already leaving his shoulders as the First Sword of Braavos decapitates him from behind.

Braavos' Sealord stares down at the face of a man he'd grown up with, a man he'd trusted with all of his heart and that he still trusted even now. He fully believed every word he'd been told and that was the problem. It was the Sealord's turn to swallow hard as he speaks up again, "Take the head to the House of Black and White. If they will listen, tell them he professed to know information he couldn't have known without having a source within their ranks. Tell them… tell them I ended him before he could reveal anything compromising."

The First Sword bows low as he collects the head, other servants moving in to clean up the body and blood spilled. The Sealord continued sitting, deep in thought on what had just happened and what would happen moving forward. Looking down, he found his hands shaking and once more tightened his grip on the arms of his chair to still them.

He didn't want to know anything about whatever fool had drawn the attention of the House. All men must die, and all men must serve. He wished to continue serving and forbidden knowledge would see his death coming far too early.

He only hoped this offering would be enough to stay the hands of the Faceless Men. His chances looked rather good, after all, he now knew they were focused with a disturbingly single-minded intensity on another target somewhere else.

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Year 277 AC

Essos – Braavos

In another part of Braavos while the Sealord sits on his throne and regrets being forced to end the life of a friend, a Red Priest wishes he was not so very sober. Ezzelyno has long been Braavos' token Red Priest, the city had never been a place the Lord of Light could truly grab hold of, not like say, Volantis where worship to R'hllor was more common place.

Still, he made enough coin off of performing weddings for the strange whore from the Happy Port. The Sailor's Wife she called herself and was thus called in return. She would bed any man willing to marry her, and wasn't that just strange? There was nothing in the Lord of Light's teachings that spoke against it though and a Red Priest had to make a living somehow.

Now however, that had all changed. Ezzelyno was not one to look into the flames too often. All he saw there was death and despair. He much preferred to look into the bottom of a glass of good drink, and then make himself drunk. It kept him cheerful and in good spirits through his days. Unfortunately, last night at the Tavern, the flames had caught his eye. He usually did such a good job of avoiding looking at the fireplace, but this time he was drawn in before he could stop himself.

Now he knew what was coming and he so dearly wished he didn't. R'hllor had spoken to him in the flames with images and visions of what had already come and what was to come. He knew his purpose now and it was not to go to the leaders of the Free Cities. It was not to warn the people who sat on their thrones of their impending doom. No, his was a place among the masses.

As he climbed atop a hastily built rickety stage in one of Braavos' larger market squares, his blood red robes caught the eye of people passing by, and some even stopped to hear what he had to say. He looked down at the teeming mass of people and was assaulted by visions of them dead, drained of blood.

Clearing his throat, he coughed once and then spoke loudly, "People of Braavos! Demons walk among us! The END comes for those who do not unite under the Lord of Light's banner! Doom marches from the East!"

This Ezzelyno could do. He would leave larger actions to his brothers and sisters with more power and influence. All he had to his name was his voice.

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Year 277 AC

Volantis – The Red Temple of Volantis

The man who walks down the hall is imposing to say the least. Skin and hair both black as the night, red fire tattoos are spread across his face. His height at six foot is made all the more intimidating by the thick iron staff he carries with him. As he makes his way towards his destination, others move to give him room. All may be Slaves of R'hllor, but not all are equal before the Lord of Light's eyes.

Even still, none of this seems to matter to the dark skinned man as he enters a large circular chamber and kneels before the thin man seated on the floor, facing away from him. This man is both less and more imposing. His head is shaven and his face drawn, skin a pale white all the better to show off the flame tattoo's across his face that put even the other's to shame.

There is silence in the room as the kneeling man awaits the words of his elder. Said elder stares into the fire before him for several minutes in complete silence before suddenly drawing in a deep breath and coming back to himself. Slowly, with purpose, he rises from his seat and turns to look upon the kneeling Priest, "Moqorro. Doom is upon us."

The dark skinned man, now named properly, starts at the words. His composure is broken effectively and he looks up at the other, "High Priest, the Great Other moves?"

High Priest Benerro, known to many as the First Servant of the Lord of Light slowly shakes his head, "No. This evil comes from a different source. There is something new moving in Essos, and the threat may be worse than the Great Other. The Lord of Light has spoken to me in the fires. This darkness comes for us directly. It will arrive in Volantis within the year, possibly even sooner."

Moqorro is at a loss for words for a long moment before rallying himself and beseeching the High Priest, "Send me. I will destroy this evil in the name of R'hllor. Or I will give my life to stall so you may have time to prepare."

Benerro shakes his head, this time much sharper and cuts off the man's fervor with a slash of his hand, "No! Our Lord has shown me what we must do. Your death will have no meaning outside of this city. You would not even reach this evil where it currently festers before death would take you."

Moqorro falls silent as a haunted look passes over Benerro's face. The High Priest closes his eyes and lets out a long breath, before he intones carefully the words given to him by the Red God, "The Messenger comes from the Doom of Valyria. He brings with him an army of undead and a message of chaos, destruction, and ruin."

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Year 277 AC

Westeros – King's Landing

King Aerys Targaryen the Second of His Name sat upon the Iron Throne and listened to the words of those who would pay lip service to him and beg him for favors. Of course, it was all an act wasn't it? He couldn't help the bitterness that welled up within him at the thought. He was the Blood of the Dragon, the latest in a long line of Targaryens that had ruled Westeros for nearly three hundred years! He was King of the Seven Kingdoms!

Yet, he knew what they said behind his back. They said Tywin Lannister, his ever ambitious Hand, was the true power behind the Throne. Tywin Lannister was the one who people went to when they wanted things done. Lip service were indeed the right words for it, given that these days it seemed like he never dealt with any sort of real problem anymore. All such matters went through Tywin, all such matters were handled by Tywin.

He'd tried to reassert himself many times. A decade earlier, he'd wanted to bring the Iron Bank to its knees after it had the audacity to demand payment for the Iron Throne's debts from him. Him, the King of Westeros! Hah, he would have laid siege to the Free City of Braavos and brought it under the rightful rule of the Iron Throne if not for the Lord Paramount he'd allowed to be his Hand. Once again Tywin's interference and influence had made itself known, as he made peace with the Iron Bank.

Tywin Lannister's reputation had grown and Aerys had been left to simmer and fume. They thought they got away with the whispers behind his back. They thought he didn't know what they said. Oh but he knew, he knew…

As things continued as they usually did, routine an ever present part of royalty's daily life, something different finally happened. Aerys afforded more attention than usual, as the Red Priest, Thoros of Myr, stepped forward upon being called. A small swell of anger rose in the Targaryen Monarch, because the last time the Red Priest had come before him, Aerys had been irritated by his constant talk of throwing down false gods, and had had him permanently expelled from the Throne Room.

Still, if the man was willing to risk the King's wrath now by presenting himself where he was not wanted, Aerys would listen to what he had to say, if only to break up the monotony of the day. Aerys gestures expressively with his hand for Thoros to speak, and the man does.

"Your Majesty, I bring dire news from the East. Darkness comes your highness and it moves to swallow Essos whole. Then, it will come here."

Is that it? Aerys stares at the Red Priest in silence for a long enough time to make it uncomfortable, properly considering whether he should entertain this stupidity by asking the obvious question, or if he should just have the man flogged for his impudence. The former eventually wins out, "And what, would you have the Iron Throne do about this… darkness?"

Thoros looks surprised for a moment, as if he's shocked that he's even being listened to. He quickly collects himself and answers, "In the flames, I saw what must be done, there are ways we can prepare for the evil that comes. The Seven Kingdoms must look to the Lord of Light for salvati-"

Aerys has heard enough and cuts the Red Priest off with a sharp gesture and a hissed, "Quiet! It seems you do not learn from the past. Guards, seize this man and remove him from my presence. He must be punished for his insolence. Twenty lashings will hopefully still that tongue of his."

Thoros looks dismayed but also resigned as he is grabbed by guards who begin to drag him from the Hall. That doesn't stop him from yelling out as he goes, "Your Majesty, you must listen to me! Doom comes for us all! Doom comes from Valyria!"

That gets the King's attention as he stands abruptly from the Iron Throne and calls to the guards, "Wait!"

They stop and the room is silence for a moment in the face of Aerys' clear anger. Thoros' face quickly pales at the realization that his last words did little to help his case. Eventually the King speaks through gritted teeth, "A hundred lashings."

Then, Thoros is dragged from the room and Aerys settles back down onto the Iron Throne, careful to avoid the many sharp edges. He puts on a calm face and waves off concern from Tywin and his Small Council. How dare that fool of a priest try to manipulate him, the King. Aerys Targaryen was no fool and would not be made to dance to another's tune. He was the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

At that thought he found his back straightening as the next man to speak stepped forward. The messenger come from House Darklyn of Duskendale, and Aerys puts the Red Priest out of his mind as he focuses on what the man has to say. Hopefully it would be something relatively pleasant so he could calm down.

But no, of course it wasn't. Instead he grew more and more enraged at the audacity of the Lord of Duskendale. How dare he decline to pay the taxes every Lord in the Seven Kingdoms were to pay. How dare he think himself above the laws of the Seven Kingdoms that Aerys' ancestors had put in place. He thumbed his nose at the Iron Throne and Aerys himself with this insult!

Tywin was making some noise, probably talking about how he would deal with this upstart as Hand to the King, when Aerys found himself rising from his throne for the second time, just as angry as the first, "No!"

The entire court shuts down at that as everyone looks to the King, and he spares a moment to enjoy the fact that at the very least, they still listen. Taking a deep breath, he schools his tone into something a bit more regal, a bit more kingly, "No. I will go to Duskendale and handle this myself. The immediate presence of a Targaryen King will squash all thoughts of rebellion, as it always has."

Tywin of course has to speak up, "My King, I do not bel-"

Aerys snarls and cuts him off, "Silence! You forget yourself Lord Hand. You are my Hand, not my Mind. You do not think for me, you do not decide anything for me. I will go to Duskendale and I will end this foolish defiance. I will not hear another word of dissent."

His Hand is wise enough to know when to back down, and he remains silent as he bows at the waist and allows Aerys to begin throwing out orders to prepare for his departure. This was something Aerys knew he had to do. Much more important than the silly ramblings of that Red Priest. His subjects had to know that Aerys Targaryen the Second of His Name was their one true King and not a puppet for some jumped up Lords.

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Year 277 AC

Essos – Asshai

There is a temple in the city of Asshai, where followers of the Red God go to worship. Those who dedicate themselves to the Lord of Light live in the temple full time. And then there are the few, those special enough to hold faith so strong in their breast that commune with R'hllor comes easy and often to them. There is a room for these most devout of R'hllor's followers.

In that room, a stunningly beautiful woman with flowing red hair looks deep into the flames, and those flames look back. Perfectly sculpted lips slowly spread into a wide smile as her God shows her the way forward. Her eyes reflect the dancing flames and the shadows that they create. From those same lips come only two words, spoken in a breathless tone and sounding almost like a moan to a lover.

"Azor Ahai."

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