(Ferrago Antaryon, Braavos)
The stress piling up on him for more than a decade had finally begun to disappear. Ferrago felt that for the first time, he could truly relax.
The Sealord had even found time to visit and marvel at his proud collection, some of the few assets he still held without fear of seizure or loss.
Everything was going as planned, his envoy had confirmed Mudd's agreement and that the detestable man would appear with his newest inducted Banners and Wardens soon enough.
Sure, Braavos was expected to deal with the logistics and supply and provide proper compensation for their aid, but that was a pittance when one took into account the amount of gold brought into the city every year.
It helped that there were significant donations by the city's elites, who hoped to give the Westerosi King a good impression and ingratiate themselves with him. Some even boasted about potentially joining the monster's court.
Those supporters of Mudd had practically thrown themselves over each other lobbying to be the ones to house and entertain the so-called conqueror, trying to ensure that the King was met with the reception someone of his standing ought to be given.
Many were unsurprisingly major Keyholders within the Iron Bank, and several others were also direct beneficiaries of the influence House Mudd had over the free city. Owing their rise and wealth to the previously teetering noble House.
Was it Royal, Noble, or Imperial? You couldn't tell these days, if there's one thing the Sealord couldn't deny, it was the fact that the Mudd's were a House that held roots few other families dared claim.
Even the arrogant Westerosi noble Houses couldn't boast a similar legacy. What other House had the blood of Dragonlords, Emperors, and Kings in them? Giving him all the more reason to wipe out, no singular family should be able to hold such a legacy.
In his eyes, they were unworthy of it.
Ferrago scoffed at the ridiculousness of this all, these formerly proud and arrogant princes acting like the lickspittles and leeches they truly were, finally showing their true faces for all to see. It mattered no matter what they did, soon enough he would have the last laugh and nothing would stand in his way.
It was gratifying to know that he still had some support after the disasters that had hit his allies in recent years.
Quite a few of the merchant princes had felt stifled by the change in the air, fearing that Mudd would make a demand that went too far and worried about the consequences of denying him. Many had even privately met with him, letting their true faces show and the distress they felt at Erlend's imminent arrival.
This was great news for him since it showed that they still had a measure of trust in him at the minimum and might even back his rise as long as he played his cards right. These people would be useful as stepping stones, there was no reason not to accept their aid.
The Sealord was no fool, Mudd had purposely avoided mentioning the recompense he expected to receive, only talking about bloodying his men or something. His envoy hadn't exactly been well-received, so there was no true way to guess his intentions.
Truthfully, whatever Erlend's intentions were, they didn't matter. As long as Ferrago could successfully twist the narrative in his favor after they dealt with Mudd, there was very little those Westerosi savages could do.
After all, dead men could not defend themselves and the oh-so-vaunted Conqueror was a very ambitious man, with many enemies who would not hesitate to bring everything he built down.
Oh how he looked forward to the coming days, it'd be a shame if a certain King got too big for his breeches and bit off more than he could chew.
Essos was not kind to anyone with too big an ambition, more so to Conquerors.
…
A welcoming, gentle smile on his face and clothes that would cost the average everyday man decades of labor to even touch. Ferrago Antaryon stood with his head raised high, as he awaited for his worst enemy to finally arrive and set foot in his beloved city.
He and the rest of the court had been forced to wait here once the Mudd's fleet had been sighted close by. They had to publicly show as much respect and honor to the descendants of the city's founder.
Anything less would see his people rioting and having him thrown out of office.
Ships, ships, and more ships could be seen as they sailed into view. They were everywhere the eye could see. More than enough to take on the full might of several free cities, if he guessed correctly.
The admittedly impressive fleet numbered in the hundreds and created an imposing sight that would have a normal man trembling in their boots. Not Ferrago, for he was a man with a spine made out of Valyrian steel.
Facing such odds, he did not tremble nor cower in fear. These were his stepping stones, their blood would usher in a new era, the Era of House Anataryon, and the rise of a new world order.
One where those old and outdated families no longer held sway, where their words were as meaningless as a pauper's fate. Around him, were some of the most influential men on this side of the continent, brimming with excitement, and anticipation. Ready to meet the man who made history.
The Sealord had very differing thoughts in his mind, ones that would probably have seen him stoned on sight, had they been able to read his mind.
He sneered at their foolishness, their fate was already sealed and nothing they could say or do would change his mind. Just mere obstacles to his path to achieving true power.
'You've outstayed your welcome Mudd, it's time for you to go.'
…
On the vast sea that stretched out to the horizon, a huge fleet appeared, sailing towards his beloved city, their huge sails fluttering and inching ever closer.
The warships cast a large shadow over his heart, for make no mistake, they were here for one purpose; to be the harbingers of death. Neatly lined up and sailing only moments behind the leading ship, which boasted a bronze mermaid as its figurehead.
A loud roar broke his attention, the men around him trembled at the sound. No sooner did they hear it, than an immense shadow flew over the fleet, diving from the clouds above and heading towards the city. Its huge body cast a large shadow that blocked the sun, descending smoothly towards them.
The creature's wings created powerful gusts of wind as they flapped, he could even hear bodies dropping behind as some of the mind-addled fools fainted in fright. When the dragon was close enough, it raised its mighty head and let out a loud ear-splitting roar, announcing its presence to the bastard daughter of Valyria.
If that wasn't intimidating enough, then the appearance of two more colossal shadows following behind the first Dragon lit the fire in his heart. Ferrago understood as he watched the three creatures of legend fly above his city, they could not be left free. His life and that of his kin depended on it.
Steeling his nerves and taking a deep breath, the Sealord composed himself, preparing to meet his most hated enemy. Only one of them could survive at the end of this farce.
He did not intend to fall.
…
(Erlend Mudd, Braavos)
Credit where credit is due, this 'enemy' of his had an impeccable poker face. You'd never think he was one of his greatest enemies just by looking at him.
The Sealord acted like the perfect host, guiding him throughout the city and showing him all the best attractions it had. This is despite the fact that Erlend had already been here several times before.
Funnily enough, those times were all so they could request the Banner's aid in getting rid of the horselord scrouge. Oh, the irony.
Ever since he and his fleet had docked in the famous city, he'd been surrounded by well-wishers, sycophants, and snakes. All looking to gain his favor and support for one thing or another.
They acted like there wasn't a horde of rapists, murderers, and slavers riding towards the city at this very moment. A stark contrast to the grief-stricken, pleading envoy who tried to guilt-trip him.
It was frankly rather ridiculous, but then again, politics always tended to be.
"You must visit this establishment when you have the time, your Majesty. I dare say, not even the pleasure houses of Lys can compare." One lickspittle suggested as they passed by an ornate building.
"Preposterous, how dare you even suggest such a thing!" Another argued, taking offense at the implied insult on Erlend's behalf.
"His Majesty is young and of great vigor. I believe a man should be able to truly relax before entering a battle. It's common sense really."
"Just because you're a manwhore doesn't mean everyone else."
The insults continued back and forth, whilst the Sealord looked visibly ready to blow a gasket. Erlend had to applaud the man, he's very good at what he does.
Had he not read the ambitious prince's mind, he would have never thought that this was prepared beforehand. These Braavosi should go into acting, they'd be far better than half the lot that called themselves actors in his past life.
With a silent signal from his hand, the Sealord had his guards escort the bickering duo as they looked to duke it out then and there. Unfortunately, Erlend was unable to see the spectacle they put on as the situation 'defused'.
"I sincerely apologize for that, your Majesty. We Braavosi are emotional by nature, it's not uncommon for things to get heated." Ferrago explained, whilst subtly signaling to those present that Erlend wasn't a Braavosi.
"As you say, I am quite experienced with such a situation, especially with Riana, as I'm sure you're aware," Erlend responded enthusiastically, going right for the juggler.
The man's face visibly darkened with black lines appearing on his forehead as the CNs like to put it. "Yes… I'm sure you do." The Sealord gritted out, the remainder that his wife was taken by the King, ironically not taken well by himself.
"How is she by the way, it's been so long since we last met. You know how dreadfully tiring work can get." Erlend continued nonchalantly.
The entourage around them looked like they wanted to jump right into the conversation. Their fear of the Sealord and their attempts to suck up to the King momentarily subsided as they smelt gunpowder.
Ferrago swiftly got a hold of himself, whilst sending a pointed glare to the entourage, "She's doing quite well, we have a few children together."
"Yes, Yes. I do hope you change that green hat on your head. It doesn't mash well with the rest of your outfit."
Erlend's ridiculous statement put the older man on the back foot, befuddled by the sudden and oddly weird sentence he just heard. "I… I didn't realize you paid attention to courtly fashion, your Majesty."
"Oh I don't, But Rhaella insists I keep up to date and all that. What with it being of cultural significance." Erlend spouted some random bullshit to go along with his previous bullshit.
"I see. I'll keep that in mind."
His lips twitched at the fact that the Sealord took his words into consideration, then again this was expy Venice, so fashion was important to them.
"Apologies for interrupting, your Majesty. I've just been informed that the Banners have been sorted and your residence has been prepared." One of the courtiers spoke up.
Erlend nodded his assent and followed the courtier back to his residence. Walking in relative silence as he waved at the thousands of excited Braavosi citizens who had been raptly watching the entourage since he first docked.
Oh did he forget that they were being watched this whole time, silly him.
While they walked in comfortable silence, Erlend listened to the Sealord's thoughts. Thoughts that were getting more and more outrageous by the second.
The man had a clear vendetta against the Mudd King, who he blamed for his successive failures these past few years, which he wasn't wrong to do. Not that Erlend would admit it, not yet anyway.
Hell, there were even thoughts of burning Erlend alive, castrating him, killing his draconian children in front of him, and even more destroying all his hopes and dreams, etc... It was like watching one train wreck after the other as the man imagined himself becoming the greatest ruler Braavos had ever seen after Erlend's death. Beloved by all and hyped as some savior that rid it of a scourge even worse than the Dothraki.
Holy shit, he might have accidentally made this man insane. Oh well, his bad.
The not-so-young King wondered how this man intended to deal against the might of the Sunset Kingdoms had he even succeeded in this 'trap'. There was a silly misconception going around Essos that Erlend won solely by relying on his Dragons.
Conveniently forgetting that the Banners were nothing to scoff at and had been thrashing their asses for centuries. Not to mention that the Dragons' only role in his Conquest was to ensure the more stubborn idiots didn't prolong a pointless war.
Watching someone pointlessly deny reality was both interesting and disturbing.
Erlend may just have turned one of the most shrewd and machiavellian men this world had to offer into a classic 2D villain. Something that he was both proud of and disgusted by.
"These five fortresses you built, do they have any relations to the ones in the east?" Ferrago asked, curious about the obvious symbolism.
"In a way, you could say it's a tribute to the eastern heritage I have. Mind you it's been so long, I doubt any noble of Yi Ti would recognize it without feeling offended." Those lots were convinced by their superiority, stuck in their delusional world.
"I see, most seem to forget how much depth your House has." The Sealord praised. Inwardly the man was complaining about how his House should've stayed east, and let themselves be wiped out.
Erlend rolled his eyes inwardly, unsurprised by the man's inner thoughts. "Not as old as the Starks, by the gods that House can teach us about the importance of ruling wisely."
"Of course, they are a shining beacon of wisdom and rulership. I would love to discuss with Lord Benjen about his family's history."
Fat chance, Erlend was pretty sure Benjen would've gutted the man, the first chance he got. The Stark lord had little interest in snakes.
"I'm sure he'd be pleased to hear that," Erlend said noncommittally. Well then, this seemed like a nice place to end this.
…
(???, Braavos)
"Are you sure this is wise?" His partner questioned, worry visible on his face at the thought of their next task.
"We can't allow this to go on, Anataryon will lead us all into a pit of his own creation. We must act now, whilst he's distracted." He reassured the man.
"But his excellency will surely have his spies watching the King's residence, this is far too risky." His friend warned.
"You need not worry old friend, I have it handled."
The Sealord had gone too far, and the others were blindly following his every order, fearful they'd be left behind. But… He knew the truth, trusting those disgusting barbarians was folly.
Having met their leader, he knew deep in his heart that they only traded one monster for another, one who he suspected wasn't even human.
Those eyes… They still haunted his every wake. Not even his dreams were spared as they followed him wherever he went. He could not go on like this.
Something must be done, and Mudd was the only one who could help them.
As they neared the palace, he gazed at the building with apprehension and hope. If there was one person who could deal with that monster, then it was Mudd. Ferrago may assume he held sway over that Khal of Khals fellow, but he knew better.
That was no man, and only a monster can deal with another monster.
Bowing their heads respectfully to the guardsmen, "Greeting my good man, I, Luca of the honorable Basso family, wish to meet with his Majesty. It concerns a matter of great importance." He said politely.
It would be improper to insult the King's trusted guardsmen. He inwardly cursed his father for leaving them in this mess, so obsessed was the man with mingling with the elites that he threw their family headfirst into this despicable plot.
"Wait here, we will have to confirm with His Majesty if he wishes to meet you." The guardsmen said brusquely, signaling for one of his fellows to enter the ostentatious palace.
The two of them were forced to wait in tense silence for several minutes as the guards stood at the ready, prepared to defend themselves at any moment should the need arise.
After his father perished a few moons ago, he was forcefully inducted into this shadowy group, and his family left nearly penniless as they took everything they could get their hands on.
His only hope now lies squarely on the Conqueror's shoulders, Luca would be damned if he didn't take the opportunity presented. Ferrago could burn for all he cared, family was far more important than some self-entitled snake that could not accept defeat.
Eventually, the guardsmen returned, nodding towards what he only assumed to be their leader.
Motioning to the two Braavosi, "You may enter, my colleagues will escort you to His Majesty. I remind you any action that is considered hostile will not be tolerated." He said.
Luca did not mind, inclining his head respectfully to the leader, before entering the palace with his friend close behind him. He hadn't expected everything to go so smoothly. Hopefully, his Majesty would be just as amicable.