Lords of the Sea and Fire

Chapter 15: Lords of the Sea and Fire

292 AC - Lys

Lys was a city of pleasure and excess, and no wedding was grander than that of Lord Monford Velaryon and Lysarra Rogare.

The great hall of the Rogare estate was lavish beyond words, the ceilings painted with gold and sapphire, the floors covered in silken carpets from Yi Ti. Perfumed air mixed with the scent of roasted meats and exotic spices, while courtesans and dancers wove between the tables, draped in sheer silks that left little to the imagination.

The feast stretched from one end of the hall to the other—plump quails glazed with honey, spiced lamb, oysters fresh from the sea, and Myrian red wine that flowed like a river.

Prince Aerion Targaryen, only twelve yet already carrying himself as a warrior and a ruler, sat at the high table beside Ser Clement Celtigar, Lord of Claw Isle. Clement was already deep into his third cup of wine, his cheeks flushed red.

Across from them, Aurane Waters leaned back, watching the festivities with an easy smirk. Monford Velaryon, the man of the hour, sat at the head of the table, his silver-gold hair catching the candlelight, a proud grin on his face as he watched his new bride converse with her Lysene kin.

Clement leaned in toward Aerion, grinning. "It's a damn shame, Aerion. You're the only one at this table who hasn't bedded a woman yet."

Aerion raised a brow, sipping his wine. "I didn't realize you had suddenly become an expert in such matters, Clement."

Clement barked a laugh, throwing an arm around him. "I am now! And let me tell you, my prince, you are missing out. I had my first taste just last week in the pleasure houses of Lys."

Aurane Waters, sitting across from them, smirked. "Only once? Gods, I thought you'd be buried under a pile of women by now, Clement."

Clement waved his cup lazily. "I was taking my time, savoring the moment! Not all of us have to rush like desperate sailors, Aurane."

Aurane chuckled. "Says the man who probably paid extra to make sure he didn't fumble his first time."

The table roared with laughter. Clement scowled, but his grin betrayed him. "I'll have you know, the woman practically fell in love with me by the end."

Monford, still grinning, leaned in. "A Lysene courtesan 'falling in love'? That's almost as believable as Clement keeping his mouth shut for a whole day."

"Or Aurane keeping his cock in his breeches," Clement shot back.

Aurane raised his cup. "Guilty as charged."

The laughter swelled again. Even Aerion smirked, shaking his head at their antics.

Across the hall, Thoros of Myr was already deep into his drinking, his bald head gleaming with sweat as he challenged a Lysene noble to a contest. "Your wine is sweet, but it lacks the fire of the Lord of Light!" he bellowed, slamming back another cup.

Naeron Qoherys, the Skull Knight, sat further down the table, his violet eyes watching the revelry in quiet amusement. He rarely laughed, but there was a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

As the night stretched on, the musicians played faster, the dancers moved wilder, and the warriors of the Dragon Company drank deeper.

Then Aerion stood, raising his cup high. The hall quieted as all eyes turned to him.

"A toast!" he declared, his blood-red eyes gleaming. "To Monford Velaryon, my sworn brother in battle, and to Lysarra Rogare, the woman foolish enough to wed him!"

Laughter rang out, Monford shaking his head, his grin unfading.

Aerion continued, his voice ringing strong. "May your union be as unbreakable as Valyrian steel, may your house be blessed with sons as strong as their father, and daughters as beautiful as their mother—" He smirked. "—or gods forbid, as handsome as Monford himself."

The hall erupted in laughter again.

Monford raised his own cup. "And may my dear wife forgive me when I drink too much, fight too often, and teach our children to be just as troublesome as our dear Aerion!"

A cheer went up, cups clashing together, wine spilling over.

Aerion grinned, throwing back his drink. As the warmth of the wine spread through him, he looked around the hall at his men—his family—growing stronger with each passing year.

Tonight, they drank.

The morning after the wedding, in a private chamber lined with Lysene silk, the leaders of the Dragon Company gathered.

Seated around the great marble table were:

Prince Aerion Targaryen the StarbornSer Barristan Selmy the BoldSer Clement Celtigar, Lord of Claw Isle, Aerion's sworn brotherLord Monford Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, now bound to Lys through marriage.Naeron Qoherys, the Skull Knight, commander of the Dragon CompanyAurane Waters, vice-admiral of the fleetThoros of Myr, the fiery warrior priestKinvara, the Red Priestess, watching from the shadows

The room was filled with the scent of Myrish spiced wine and parchment as they began their discussion.

Barristan spoke first. "Six years of war, and we are richer and stronger than ever."

Monford nodded. "Our coffers hold over seven million honors (currency of Volantis). Most of it from Volantis paying us to raid their Ghiscari rivals—Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor."

Aurane leaned back. "And let's not forget our fleet—113 warships, all built in Volantis, all ready for war."

Naeron Qoherys, his voice sharp and measured, added, "Our army stands at twenty-five thousand strong. Sixteen thousand are our veteran warriors, the rest are freed slaves from Slaver's Bay—men we trained and armed."

Barristan nodded approvingly. "And they are not just rabble. We have trained them well. They fight like seasoned soldiers now."

Clement grinned. "We also have 8 thousand cavalry, 4thousand archers, and the rest infantry. All equipped with fine steel from the Mott family."

Aurane smirked. "Speaking of which, our contract in Qohor was a damn good deal. We brought back the entire Mott clan—two hundred and fifty-four of the best smiths in the Free Cities. No one makes steel like they do."

Barristan's eyes hardened. "And we did what no one has done before—we defeated the Unsullied. Their perfect discipline broke before our might."

Thoros laughed, slamming his cup down. "Aye! And we turned the Red Wastes into a graveyard for the Dothraki!"

Kinvara, her ruby eyes gleaming, finally spoke. "But you must know... a great Khal is rising in the east. He is uniting the scattered hordes. Soon, the Free Cities will tremble before him."

Naeron folded his arms. "Let them come. We have already crushed thirteen khalasars in the past three years. We will crush another."

Monford shrugged. "The south has gone quiet. The Dothraki rarely raid there anymore. They are moving north."

Aurane smirked. "Let them kill each other. We have bigger plans."

Aerion sat in silence, listening. The Dragon Company had become more than a band of mercenaries.

They were lords of war.

They had gold, ships, and steel.

They had an army that could shake the Free Cities.

And soon, the world would know their name.