Marwyn the Mage
Dragons! Anyone who understands what a secret is, who has felt the seductive allure of hidden knowledge, will always react to that word. Dragons beckoned and called, inviting one to see, to touch, and to try to understand. The greatest wonder of Westeros was now close at hand. To wait patiently for the king's return—which might come in a week, or in a month—was beyond his strength.
"Very well," Orm nodded. "I will send several men with you. I have a few matters to clarify myself, and it will be useful for you as well. The roads beyond Darry are unsafe."
"Of course." Marwyn inclined his head. He had been granted either a guard or an escort. Though why "either"? It was both. And the king would likely be warned of his approach by letter.
"Who accompanies you?" Orm asked.
"Two lads. One is my student, and the other simply decided to flee the Citadel after realizing he would never become a maester."
Orm asked a few more seemingly formal questions about the servants. Marwyn himself had no doubt that nothing was accidental—that his interlocutor missed nothing and would forget nothing. After that, Orm just as casually asked him to speak about the Citadel and the latest news.
Marwyn merely cleared his throat. Yeah, they were tightening the screws on him quite neatly! Everything polite, smiling even—but he could practically feel Orm's steel grip.
"I don't understand why you've fallen silent," Harold said calmly. "After all, you and I serve the same king. Do we not? That means our goals are shared."
There was the faintest warning in his voice, a subtle hint of threat.
Marwyn did not fear threats. Nor did he feel fear before any man. After what he had seen in Asshai—a true demon—and after watching a Shadow drain a healthy man dry, ordinary men had somehow ceased to frighten him and, moreover, had lost much of their authority and importance in his eyes. All of it seemed of little importance, especially against the backdrop of truly serious matters —and to what was gathering strength beyond the Wall.
After a moment's thought, Marwyn decided not to butt heads. It might yet happen that he and Orm would find themselves in the same boat. After all, he would either remain with Joffrey or, should he conclude the king was nothing of consequence, set off for Daenerys instead. Fifty-fifty. So why complicate matters in advance and sour things? Especially since he himself did not suffer from excessive pride or vanity—life had knocked that shit out of him long ago.
So he calmly recounted several important pieces of news from the Citadel and outlined the alignments there—who supported whom, who respected, hated, or despised whom, and so on.
Orm listened without interruption. The Mage could almost feel each name and detail settling into the man's memory.
The conversation ended. They parted quite satisfied with one another. Orm had obtained some useful information, and Marwyn had drawn certain conclusions. And if Joffrey had such men at his disposal, then it meant that he himself, as king, was worth something after all.
They rode north. Once again, mile upon mile of road—this time the Kingsroad—vanished behind him.
In the Riverlands, war was felt more keenly. Numerous wagons laden with provisions rolled north. In return, identical wagons headed south, carrying the wounded or the sick. Couriers galloped by; separate companies and lone men marched along the roads. Vagabonds and simply suspicious figures began to appear more often.
The king was advancing at the head of a vast army, and because they were lighter and faster, they gradually began to overtake it. Beyond Darry, Marwyn realized the king was very near. And at last he caught up with him at the Ruby Ford.
The road climbed a hill, then began a long descent into the river valley. The horizon opened wide, and even the air seemed to become fresher.
Ahead, in the brisk wind, a whole forest of banners swayed. The two largest—the golden lion of the Lannisters and the black crowned stag of the Baratheons—were surrounded by hundreds of banners and pennants of lesser houses. Countless tents were arranged in strict order, set as if their positions had been measured with a ruler. At the center rose a great red bulk adorned with several streamers—the royal pavilion. There the press of people was thickest, and from the hill above Marwyn could make out several rings of defense: a dug trench, a palisade of sharpened stakes, and various units stationed at intervals.
Off to one side, near the distant forest, a herd of powerful horses grazed under guard. Not far from them stood a makeshift pen holding several hundred sheep. Farther still, at the very edge of visibility, he saw clusters of men gathered along the riverbank. Some were washing clothes and themselves; others were simply splashing and laughing in the water. And much farther off, several dozen men sat with fishing rods, making use of a spare moment.
From the many field kitchens, thin streams of smoke rose here and there. The air carried the savory scent of meat stew and fresh bread.
The army's outer pickets had first intercepted them the day before, and in that time their small party had been halted several times. Their escorts produced some documents bearing seals, and only then were they allowed to proceed. It seems that without the men and passes Orm had provided, reaching the king's encampment would likely have been difficult.
A third of the army had already crossed to the other side of the Trident. The king and the Lord Commander, according to rumor, intended to follow them tomorrow morning. And Marwyn the Mage finally understood that if all went well and he were granted audience with Joffrey, he might meet him this very day—and attempt to determine what sort of man he was, what he was capable of, and how he ought to be regarded.
And at last, if fortune favored him, he would see a living dragon!
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
🥳Joining P@treon keeps me motivated and eager to work diligently, so please consider joining.🥰