Gendry had changed into a velvet tunic of black, red, and gold, his weapon fastened to his sword belt. He sat on the wooden dais beside Daenerys, the two of them placed at the center like stars surrounded by the moon.
The stands were livelier than ever. Besides the lords, knights, and other spectators already present, a group of important ministers had now arrived from King's Landing. Daenerys answered each of them with a gentle smile, taking note of their lands, appearances, and titles.
She remembered the children and achievements the lords were proud of, as well as the battle honors the knights took pride in. This was not difficult for her, especially with Gendry and Ser Barristan making introductions. Even for the lords of The North, who rarely came south, Dacey Mormont was there to introduce them.
Apart from the few who had already known of the dragons' revival, such as Stannis Baratheon and Mathis Rowan, everyone who now saw them with his own eyes became even more respectful. Mace Tyrell sat bolt upright, like a schoolboy listening to a story.
"Slow down."
Daenerys tossed pieces of well-cooked salted meat into the air, and the three dragons hunted after the meat like snakes of lightning.
The dragons stared hungrily at the food. Balerion spread his black wings and stirred the air, while the green dragon's neck drew back in time with Daenerys's movements, a fresh green filling everyone's sight.
Balerion moved astonishingly fast. With a roar, he spat out a swirling mass of black-red flame, charring the meat before it even fell.
Balerion snapped it up with his sharp black teeth. The black dragon swallowed the meat in one gulp, then lifted his head and gave a shrill cry.
"Hiss. Hiss."
The other dragons stirred restlessly, tempted to stretch their necks out and snatch the black dragon's prize. But Balerion had bullied them enough that they no longer dared fight him for food. Only after Daenerys tossed out more cooked meat did the green dragon and white dragon begin breathing flame and competing for it.
The smell of sulfur and smoke in the air grew stronger. Not a single lord, knight, or battle hero dared speak rashly, for fear of drawing the dragons' attention.
Though the dragons were only the size of foals, they still carried a sense of pressure once they spread their wings. Besides, dragons were the most dangerous beasts in the world.
"If Prince is crowned in the Dragonpit, the place can hold tens of thousands of people. The High Septon will anoint you with holy oil, and a loyal, reliable minister will place the crown upon your head," Mace said respectfully.
As he spoke, Mace kept watching the dragons and paying attention to his distance from them. Dragons were utterly unreasonable things. Dragonfire and wildfire were close kin, and legend said that some dragons' flames burned until death, consuming with terrifying speed and efficiency.
Mace was deeply afraid of being accidentally injured by dragonfire. Burns could lead to infections that were extraordinarily hard to treat. After thinking it over again and again, Mace concluded that before absolute strength, every scheme was feeble. The rose had best cling tightly to Gendry's thigh, lest some powerful house swallow it whole.
"If it is the coronation day, then that honor belongs to my elder and my Hand of the King. I have decided that my uncle and Hand of the King, Great Lord Stannis Baratheon, will crown me."
"It is my honor, Prince," Great Lord Stannis said with a bow.
A coronation ceremony was extremely important, and each had its own character.
When the High Septon of Oldtown was strong, it was usually the High Septon who crowned the king. But there had also been truly strange cases, such as Queen Dowager Visenya crowning her son, the cruel Maegor, or the Kingsguard Lord Commander, "Kingmaker" Cole, crowning King Aegon, which marked the beginning of The Dance of the Dragons.
Gendry did not trust the Church. Kinship and seniority mattered more. In these chaotic times, among the elders of his house, only Great Lord Stannis had the right, even though he was only in his thirties. Great Lord Stannis was harsh, but with the coming winter ahead, a man with an iron hand was exactly what was needed.
Ser Barristan was also a suitable choice. As for Great Lord Eddard Stark, Gendry would have to be mad to let a follower of the Old Gods crown him. Besides, Great Lord Eddard's heart was fixed on The North. He would not serve the Iron Throne for long, while The North was a pit into which everyone would have to pour money and strength.
"If the late king were still alive, he would surely be glad to see you bring glory to your house."
"I hope for such a day as well. If I can take the head of House Tywin, that will be the best comfort I can offer the late king," Gendry replied.
Stannis's feelings toward his elder brother Robert were deeply complicated. He had always lived in his brother's shadow. Height, looks, loud laughter, drinking contests, boasting, fighting, even women and the number of children. In no respect had he ever surpassed his brother.
Though Stannis sometimes hated Robert, he was still determined to avenge him. In truth, it was because the three brothers had lost their parents too early and had never been properly taught.
"You are dead, brother, you fool. That Lannister woman toyed with you, cuckolded you, and murdered you. The Renly you favored betrayed you. You did not love me much either, but I will still avenge you. You are my brother."
Stannis told himself this as he remembered that greasy, fat face laughing without restraint.
"Now I am the one protecting our house, just as I did during the War of the Usurper, when I abandoned the king for the sake of the house. I chose the house over honor."
"The king's coronation is of great importance. With Great Lord Stannis crowning Prince, the High Septon anointing you with holy oil, and Prince crowning Princess Daenerys, and beyond that, the dragons' revival, this is a great matter for the Seven Kingdoms. We can also imitate the old precedent and have the dragons circle the Dragonpit three times," Mace suggested.
Though the dragons could not yet carry Gendry in majesty around the city and let him descend in dignity at court, their appearance alone would make the king's legitimacy unquestionable.
"That can be done," Great Lord Stannis said with a nod. "But we must also pay attention to the defense of the Dragonpit. That is vital."
"I will protect the two Princes with my life," Ser Barristan promised.
"I have always been responsible for rebuilding the Dragonpit. I will also see to this matter with all my strength," Lord Randyll added.
"The safety of the route and the path itself are the duty of the garrison commander," Ser Boggs said, patting his chest.
"And the envoys from the various kingdoms," Gendry reminded them. "I have many friends, but even more enemies. Be especially cautious with people from Lys, Volantis, and the like."
"As you command."
"I will receive many gifts, but the most valuable gift will come when the guild representatives from the two Free Cities arrive," Gendry said mysteriously.
...
Braavos, the Sealord's Palace, the residence of the Sealord. To its north lay the Purple Harbor, where Braavosi merchant ships moored beneath the arches and high towers of the Sealord's Palace.
Because Braavos was the northernmost of all the Free Cities, roughly level with The Fingers of the Vale, its climate tended to be cold.
Sealord Ferrego Antaryon wrapped himself in thick furs. Only then did he feel a little warmth.
Many braziers had been placed throughout the Sealord's Palace, adding heat for the Sealord.
Ferrego Antaryon had once been elegant and charming, born into one of Braavos's great houses. Now he was burdened with illness, his hair gone gray.
The tall Qarro Volentin stood guard at his side. He was the strongest swordsman, the First Sword of Braavos. Both men wore plain gray-brown clothing, in keeping with Braavosi tradition.
In Braavos, only assassins dressed splendidly. The truly wealthy, skilled swordsmen, and the Faceless Men often wore black and other dark colors. Braavosi officials, Keyholders, and judges usually wore drab gray-brown outer robes.
"When I... when I was young, I was once an unmatched swordsman too. Quick, skilled, full of spirit. I worked as a moneylender, a naval officer, and a merchant. Yet now that sickness has taken me, I cannot even leave this room," Ferrego lamented.
"Your Grace, you will recover," Qarro said quietly.
"I only hate that I paid too much for this crown. I was born sickly, and then I wrung myself dry to campaign for the office of Sealord."
Qarro remained silent and could only listen as the Sealord continued.
"Has that thing been found?" Ferrego asked.
"It has, Your Grace."
Qarro drew a crown from inside his robes, a golden circlet set with seven gemstones of different colors. This crown had belonged to Jaehaerys the Conciliator.
"Let me see."
Ferrego took the crown and looked it over again and again.
"What a beautiful little trinket. Seven gemstones, symbolizing the glory of the Seven Gods."
Ferrego studied the crown closely, a sight that stirred no small melancholy.
In the early days of The Dance of the Dragons, Ser Stephen Darklyn of the Kingsguard fled King's Landing with the Conciliator's Crown and joined Rhaenyra Targaryen on Dragonstone. The queen wore this crown until she was driven from the capital by the mob. At Duskendale, she sold it to a Braavosi merchant to pay for passage back to Dragonstone. In the end, that queen was devoured by her younger brother's dragon.
"We have no dragon eggs, much less dragons. This crown may be the best gift we can offer," Ferrego said.
"Have the Moonsingers produced any new findings?" Ferrego asked Qarro.
"No, Your Grace. The priestesses say the Storm's fate is too powerful. The Unseen One has interfered with their prophecies, and the world they see is blurred."
The largest temple in Braavos was the Temple of the Moonsingers. These women had driven the founding of Braavos, for they had prophesied that there would be a place where the slaves aboard slave ships could find refuge. Beyond pine-covered hills and sea reefs lay a lagoon, shrouded in mist year-round, able to hide them from the eyes of the Dragonlords flying overhead so the refugees could not be found.
"Well, they always find me reasons of every kind," Ferrego snorted.
"And there is also the red priest. Quite a few red priestesses have already begun openly preaching that the Storm is the savior," Qarro said after a moment of hesitation.
"No. We will not act. Other temples will step in and teach them a lesson."
"What do you think of the Storm's rise?"
"He is a legendary warrior. His liberation of Slaver's Bay benefits the world, and Braavos admires such deeds. But from the perspective of the state, the Storm has dragon blood, and perhaps the power of dragons as well. He has taken the Breaker's banner, our power to rally others..."
"Go on."
"Your Grace, is giving this crown to the little brat of House Baratheon not a little too weak? Many in Braavos are already speaking against it. They complain that you are doing nothing. The Storm's power is expanding too quickly, and his record in battle is too frightening. If the dragon legends are true, and a savage, violent Dragonlord appears, Braavos will sooner or later have to make a choice."
Qarro gritted his teeth and spoke what was in his heart.
"It seems these rumors truly are everywhere, if even my Warden has heard them," Ferrego said with a strained smile.
"The Storm's enemy is not us, nor those slave masters, but the long winter. If he takes up a king's responsibilities, then at the very least he cannot fight wars on three fronts. For Braavos, steadiness matters."
"Mhm." Qarro nodded.
"Where did these rumors come from?" Ferrego asked.
"I believe they came from some officers of the Purple Fleet, and from people dissatisfied that the Storm controls the trade routes through the Stepstones."
"No, they do not have that strength."
Ferrego rubbed his forehead with one hand.
"Tormo Fregar. I do not want him speaking from behind the scenes anymore."
Tormo Fregar was a strong candidate for the position of Sealord, and his family was also highly noble.
"Lord Tormo would not be so impatient, would he?"
"I am not dead yet. What is he rushing for?" Ferrego said, anger in his voice. "The most important thing in trade is vision. A Sealord's vision must be better still."
"No one wants chaos, but there are indeed different opinions."
"I know." The Sealord nodded. "The people of the Iron Bank like this boy very much. He pays readily and never buys on credit. And in the future, rebuilding King's Landing and facing the Long Winter will require borrowing even more money from the Iron Bank. Debtors cannot be offended, so the forces of the Iron Bank will try to please him."
"But the other forces," Qarro said directly. "Braavos has three pillars: banking, fishing, and trade. The great merchants of the Purple Fleet and the fisheries may not be so optimistic, not if the seas might one day belong to the Storm as well."
"There is no need for such alarmist talk. I have always believed in planning before acting. Winter is our friend, and we can profit from the Storm as well. Though Braavos is no weaker in martial strength, coercion and bargaining are what we are best at."
"But if they have dragons," Qarro said. "Dragons grow quickly. In five years, ten years..."
"Hmph," Ferrego said. "We did not fear the dragons of the Conqueror or the Conciliator, much less young dragons. As long as they do not provoke us, it will be best for everyone. If the Long Winter comes, that will be enough to keep that boy overwhelmed. I hope he knows I love peace, and I hope he understands it."
"Mhm." Qarro nodded. "I understand, Your Grace."
"As for attending matters in Westeros," Ferrego said.
"I cannot leave you," Qarro said, looking at the Sealord. "I must watch over everything."
"Your apprentices are enough to handle a crisis."
"But the Faceless Men?"
"Our ancestors set a rule: the Faceless Men may not interfere in Braavos's struggles for power. Though every Sealord has respected and carefully guarded against that force, we also have means of defense. I am weak and sickly. To the people of Braavos, I am far more trustworthy than a new Sealord."
Ferrego smiled.
"Just take the gifts with you. Perhaps you can also bring a woman. The beautiful Black Pearl is quite interested in this new king of Westeros."
***
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