11th Month of 298 A.C. Pentos
Jon Connington
The bells tolled at night and kept him awake, they would not stop tolling. The reminder of his greatest failure was there in his dreams, the bells that never stopped tolling. Prince Rhaegar would often come before him, his chest caved in, to ask why he had not done what was necessary to win the war, why he had failed him, and Jon would have no response. For years he had never known what he would say if he ever met the Prince again, he still did not know, and it shamed him. He had been given one task to do, and he had failed in it, and that failure still stung. Aerys had sent him into exile after that battle, and he had gone, he'd been in Lys when word had come of Rhaegar's death, he'd mourned then and he still mourned now. But then word had come, the Prince had achieved what the Dornish had failed, he had an heir, but Jon had not been allowed to see him, the spider had seen to that, and now, well now the time was coming for when he'd be back to serve the rightful King once more. But first, he had to meet with the magister, the cheese monger.
A cool wind was blowing today, and it was enough to cool some of the heat that was present in Pentos during summer. The magister sat before him, his chins displayed in all their glory, and a serving girl was pouring them wine, when she was done and gone, the man spoke. "You look well my lord. I trust you have found your accommodations to your liking?"
Jon managed to keep the grimace from his face, his rooms were alright, but he did not like Pentos, he never had, there was too much stink about it. "Yes, they are. I thank you for them." he replies.
"Good, that is good." the magister responds his words silky and treacherous. "Now, I suppose you are wondering why I have asked you here. And you would be right to wonder, after all from what I have heard you have not quite succeeded in achieving the task the King gave you."
Jon has his doubts over whether or not the King actually asked him to do the task he had been set, or if it was actually the work of the magister, still he knows by now to play along. "Of course, I am near enough to complete that task, though I still do not understand why the King needs them if he is already winning."
The magister sighs then, a good act, just like everything else about the man. "I am sure we have had this discussion many times before my Lord Connington. Yes, the King might be winning the war now, but he is using levies, men who are farmers and peasants, and beholden to others who are not him. The company would do wonders for him and ensure that he never has to infringe on others once more."
"He is the King, the rightful King. It is not infringement if the people who are fighting for him are his anyway." Jon responds.
The Magister sighs once more, and Jon has to resist the urge to punch him, he really does not like the man. "Your seven kingdoms are a diverse lot, they have their own pride and honour as such. As I understand it at least, as I am sure you know. Giving the King his own army, men who are sworn directly to him and fight only for him ensures that there can be no treachery."
Jon thinks over this statement and has to admit there is sense in what the man says, still there are certain issues with the precise company he has chosen. "Still the Golden Company are known for having been founded for fighting for a Blackfyre. Why would they want to fight for a Targaryen?"
A strange look crosses the magister's face then, and Jon wonders at that. "The Blackfyres are dead in the male line my lord. Regardless, red or black a dragon is still a dragon, and the company needs someone to serve. I am sure they are getting tired of simply sitting around waiting for the next contract to come. They are Westerosi, and as I am sure you know they want to return home."
"And why was I kept away from returning for as long as I have been, if that is the case?" Jon asks, not bothering to keep the bitterness from his voice.
"We have been other this Lord Connington. We could not afford to allow you to return so soon after the rebellion. The King needed time to grow and to learn more about himself and the world. Besides, Prince Rhaegar had taken much from the Starks, it was only right that Lord Stark had a chance to help the boy." The magister replies, his voice soft as if he is speaking to a child.
"Stark was a traitor. He rebelled against his rightful King." Jon responds, even though he knows the words are hollow, Aerys was mad, so very, very mad, so mad that by the time of Harrenhal not even Rhaegar could ignore it any longer.
As if sensing his thought process, the Magister says. "Aerys was not the right King for the throne, we both know that my lord. And whatever else he might have been, Prince Rhaegar did not approach things from the right angle. His taking of Lady Lyanna was most unorthodox." The man holds a hand up stopping Jon's protest before it has even begun. "But that is neither here nor there. The King has begun his campaign to win the throne back and he is succeeding so far. He will need the company soon enough, and I would know what you have learned."
Out of habit, Jon keeps silent for a moment, determined to not speak for a while to see how the magister reacts to that, as such his face remains expressionless, and so eventually Jon responds. "The company have listened to my proposal and are thinking it over. However, Strickland is not Blackheart, so if you have any sort of pull over them, remove him. Furthermore, the company of the Rose are prowling around Lorath once more."
That interests the fat man. "Oh how delightful. With the right prodding perhaps they might finally take the damned city and make it relevant again. As for Strickland, well the man has always done what he thought was best, not was best for the company as a whole." The next part of what the man says surprises him. "Who would you recommend as a replacement?"
Jon thinks over this for a long time, he knows the type of people in the company, and they are not the usual cutthroat idiots that are usually in sellsword companies, these are the sons and bastards of Westerosi nobles and they will want one of their own in charge. Someone with enough balls to stand up to the magister, and loyally serve the King. "Tristan Rivers." He says eventually.
If the magister is surprised it does not show on his face, instead his voice is calm when he replies. "AN interesting choice, and one we shall all consider in due time." A moment's pause and then he says. "That is all for now my lord. I shall let you get on with your day."
Jon recognises the dismissal, and though it grates on him, he rises, nods to the man and then turns and walks out of the room. His anger with the magister and the eunuch has not gone, indeed the years seem to have made it even more fierce. Not being able to see Rhaegar's son has hurt him more than he thought possible, and the fact that the boy has been raised by Stark, well that galls him even more. He remembers the girl, the wolf bitch, and he remembers thinking she was not worthy of Rhaegar, no one was, apart from one person, but she died long ago, and Jon misses her to this day. As he comes to the corridor leading to his room, he finds a man standing there waiting for him, for a moment he thinks it is the wild wolf, a ghost from his past come back to taunt him, but it is not, it is a man from Lorath, who looks like a Stark but is not. Jon stops before the man and says softly. "Lord Brandon."
The man before him, Brandon Stark, from Lorath looks old now, but he has the Stark features, grey eyes, as cold as winter, and dark brown hair, he looks all the world as if he could've been his namesake's father, there were rumours once long ago, but they mean nothing now. "I am no lord Jon Connington. But of course that is neither here nor there." the man responds.
"What is it you wished to speak with me about?" Jon asks, cutting right to the heart of the matter.
If it were anyone else they might take his abruptness as a sign that he does not want to talk, but for all the years he has known Brandon Stark, the man has never once stopped talking when there is something on his mind. "The magister sent you to bring the Golden Company on side did he not?"
Warily, Jon responds. "Yes he did, what of it?"
"Are you aware that that was a mere diversion?" Stark asks then.
"What?" Jon exclaims, he knows from experience to not question the man when he asks a question such as that. "A diversion for what?"
"The magister is gathering his own allies and contacts together, he is preparing for something that has been gathering for a long time my lord." Stark says.
"What? What has been gathering?" Jon asks, his desperation to know getting the better of him.
"The Golden Company has long tried to put a Blackfyre on the throne, but there are no Blackfyres left. That much is true, however, one part of history that is often forgotten is the promise that Bittersteel made with a priestess of the Red God. A promise that a fire would engulf Westeros the like of which had not been seen since the dance of dragons, and perhaps before that." Stark says, looking at Jon, his grey eyes staring at him with much intent.
"Why would he make such a promise?" Jon asks. "Bittersteel was not a man known for flights of fancy."
"A desperate man makes promises that he might never live to see fulfilled." Stark says sagely. "Bittersteel was always the opposite of Bloodraven. Bloodraven was a child of ice, whilst Bittersteel, well he was all fire. And fire always calls to its own."
Jon listens intently, but he does not understand, he does not see what this has to do with anything and he says as much. "What reason would this have for anything? There are no red priests within Westeros anymore, none that matter at least. Surely the time has passed for such a thing?"
Stark laughs sadly, and claps him on the shoulder. "Mopatis is not the sort of person to forget an old debt. A debt as old as he is."
The words hit him then, and he stares at Stark, really stares at him, but he dares not say the words aloud, he merely looks at the man, and when the man nods his head, Jon swallows nervously. "What should I do?" he asks softly.
Stark replies just as softly. "Leave here, I am leaving here soon enough, come with me, and find the Company of the Rose. Make them see the truth, remind them of their promise, and go home. The darkness will come soon, and you must be by the King's side when it comes."
Jon thinks over that for a moment and then nods. "Alright, but we must be quick about it. Otherwise Mopatis will know."