Chapter 2 Dragonzel Varezes
His light-golden hair and beard were tangled together, clotted with dust and blood. His blue-violet eyes stared blankly at the boy. His mouth was stretched wide open, as if he still wished to say something—but unfortunately, he would never speak again.
It was the son of the former Archon of Volantis.
It was also his mother's son.
The boy instantly recognized the head.
"No—"
The scream never left his throat, but it roared wildly within his heart.
It must not have been Dragonzel who ordered this.
That would be kinslaying.
"What are you staring at, Ray?"
His brother's voice came from behind him.
Ray spun around abruptly. The panic had not yet faded from his violet eyes when they met Dragonzel's deep purple gaze.
The silver-haired youth smiled as he looked at his younger brother.
He was tall and slender, and not very old—perhaps only fifteen or sixteen years of age. His delicate silver hair, slightly curled at the ends, rested neatly above his shoulders. His deep purple eyes were slightly narrowed, calm and restrained. Even among the Valyrian nobles, who were famed across the world for their beauty, his appearance would still be counted among the most exceptional.
A cool purple silk tokar draped over his shoulder. Around his exposed arm was a beautifully crafted Silver Dragon armlet. Every detail proclaimed his extraordinary status.
"Brother!" Ray pointed toward the severed head, horror still lingering in his voice.
Dragonzel smiled faintly and reached out to stroke Ray's silver hair. Then his gaze shifted toward the slightly chaotic main courtyard.
The warmth that had just resembled a spring day in Volantis disappeared instantly.
His eyes turned cold.
"Aemond," he said evenly, "you frightened my brother."
"I beg forgiveness, young master."
The broad-shouldered warrior with the slightly curled beard raised his long-handled battle-axe, still dripping with blood, and bowed slightly toward Ray. The Changyi Dragon tattoo upon his cheek shimmered under the sunlight.
"Master, this man infiltrated the manor and attempted to steal your property. I have executed this thief in accordance with the laws of the Black Wall Great Code of Volantis."
After speaking, Aemond gently kicked the headless corpse, whose neck was still bleeding, toward the ground, signaling the Unsullied who served as manor guards to drag it away.
"Dragonzel, this is kinslaying!"
The High Valyrian pronunciation was sharp, and even contained slight grammatical errors.
The corpulent silver-haired man did not attempt to conceal either his fear or the dampness soaking through his lower garments. Surrounded by fully armed Unsullied holding spears, he pointed at Dragonzel with trembling fat fingers and shouted loudly.
"And this man," Aemond said coldly, raising his axe once more, "among the nobles within the Black Wall, bringing armed men into another's manor without permission is considered an act of war."
Dragonzel gently patted Ray's head, signaling him to step behind him. Then he turned his gaze toward the corpulent man.
"Who are you?"
"You—"
The man nearly fainted from rage.
"Oh." Dragonzel clapped lightly. "I remember now. You are Little Kavido of the Bantaro Family, the youngest son of Old Kavido, former Archon."
He took a few steps forward, motioning Aemond to lower his axe.
"I have just returned from the workshop in Verongses Town and am not yet fully informed of what has happened. So, Lord Kavido, would you explain why you have brought soldiers into my manor?"
Little Kavido was already regretting being misled by his unreliable bastard brother into getting involved in this matter.
"Lord Dragonzel." Seeing that Dragonzel had not immediately ordered his expulsion, Little Kavido gathered a trace of courage. He shrank behind a tall Unsullied, revealing only his head. "Please forgive my presumption. I merely represent the Bantaro Family in expressing condolences for Lord Cleorius, who has just returned to the side of the gods."
As for the soldiers…
Little Kavido glanced around the courtyard—the Unsullied he had brought, and the male and female servants huddled trembling at the side. His voice grew louder.
"They are my slaves. The laws of Volantis allow nobles to bring slaves when visiting. They are responsible for my safety."
He patted the Unsullied beside him, who stood motionless.
"As for those male slaves, they are here to carry me. And the female slaves—"
Before he could finish, Aemond's long-handled axe was raised again.
The tall warrior stared silently at Little Kavido.
Little Kavido immediately swallowed the rest of his words.
"There are no slaves in the Varezes manor," Dragonzel said calmly. "Even the Unsullied beneath the Laurel Silver Dragon sigil are contract servants."
He stepped forward and opened his arms slightly.
"The family welcomes friends who respect our traditions."
His gaze fell upon the bloodstains still marking the ground.
"But we absolutely do not welcome those with ulterior motives or thieves."
His voice sharpened.
"Lord Kavido, why exactly have you come?"
"I… I have come to mourn Lord Cleorius," Little Kavido replied, his voice trembling.
"Then what about him?" Dragonzel tilted his head slightly toward the bloodstained ground. The corpse had already been removed by the nimble Unsullied. "If I am not mistaken, that person is your—"
"Lord Dragonzel, please do not misunderstand." Little Kavido hurriedly distanced himself. "Although he bears some familial relation to me, he did not come with me. He was an uninvited guest, and I am not familiar with him."
Dragonzel could not help but admire this Bantaro noble's ability to adapt to circumstances.
He shook his head faintly.
"Then why accuse me of kinslaying?"
Under Dragonzel's deep purple gaze, Little Kavido felt increasingly uncomfortable. This time, even his head withdrew behind the Unsullied.
"Lord Dragonzel, please forgive me." He switched back to High Valyrian, though with a thick Volantene accent.
It sounded much better than before.
"My High Valyrian is not proficient. Perhaps my pronunciation was flawed, and you misheard me. I swear by the Light Lord R'hllor and the ancient gods of Valyria. I swear by the honor of the Bantaro Family."
Behind Dragonzel, Ray pouted silently.
Honor?
Master Viserys had said Old Kavido only became Archon by bribing senators and councilors. His family even scattered coins outside the Black Wall to buy votes.
At that moment, Ray noticed several young men gathered in one corner of the courtyard, whispering quietly among themselves.
He glanced at his brother, then slowly moved toward them.
"Is that so?" Dragonzel swept his gaze over the armed men Little Kavido had brought. Seeing them all lowering their heads in fear, he waved his hand, signaling his own guards to withdraw.
"Lord Kavido, please thank the Bantaro Family for their condolences on my behalf."
"The Bantaro Family is deeply saddened by the passing of Lord Cleorius."
Seeing Dragonzel allow him to leave, Little Kavido let out a long breath of relief. He squeezed out a few tears with difficulty.
"To express our grief, I personally present the land between the Little Lorne River and Ben Odor Manor, as well as two thousand tiger skins, to the ancient and noble Varezes Family as funeral offerings. Please accept them, Lord Dragonzel. The rest of the family's gifts will be delivered later."
"Thank you, Lord Kavido."
Dragonzel inclined his head slightly and raised his hand, signaling dismissal.
Two Unsullied hurriedly lifted the staggering Little Kavido. Together with the remaining slaves and soldiers, they scrambled away.
Dragonzel pressed his fingers lightly to his temple.
How could that fool Little Kavido not know the identity of the dead man?
That had been his bastard brother.
And Dragonzel's half-brother, through Saenira Targaryen.
All of them were troublesome entanglements left behind by Princess Saenira.
Although Dragonzel had gathered most of the bastards his mother had left behind, there were always a few who felt like thorns in his side.
Fortunately, most had already returned to the gods.
Only one exception had remained.
Alexios Bantaro.
The unfortunate man just beheaded by Aemond.
That bastard, already nearing middle age, had even participated in the Great Council of 101 in Westeros. If not for Princess Saenira's terrible reputation—no, even without that—given her status, that bastard would never have had the slightest chance of sitting the Iron Throne.
Even though he could no longer speak, Dragonzel knew perfectly well why he had come to the manor with such fanfare.
"Do not mistake my youth for weakness."
Dragonzel turned and walked toward the fountain in the center of the courtyard.
With his palm facing downward, and without any visible movement, a drop of silver-glowing blood fell into the pool.
It disappeared without leaving the faintest ripple.
"It seems Mother's karmic debt has finally been severed."
He withdrew his hand.