Lucius Domitius Aurelianus

The heat of the fire warmed Lucius’ face and jolly banter filled his ears while he prepared another trout, he had already opened it, cleaned it and seasoned it with herbs, he threaded a green stick through it and placed it over the embers he had prepared next to the fire, before starting again with another. The whole process made him feel nostalgic, it reminded him of home, the first home he ever had, of him and his friends fishing in the Danube, of countless nights spent hanging out around campfires. For a moment his mind wandered to a place decades ago, before he was Emperor before he was an officer before he was a soldier and before he was a grown man.

It was an instant of bliss that was quickly snuffled away by his disciplined mind, he reminded himself of the dangers of letting one’s mind wander and dwell in the past. The peaceful years on Ben’s farm had weakened his resolve and made him doubt his purpose.

Life is change he reminded himself, tranquil happiness didn’t last forever, the nights had been getting warmer, spring was coming, and if life as a soldier turned Emperor had taught him anything was that with spring came war. Here winter lasted years, decades even from what he had heard, how long would spring last? How many wars would spring bring with it?

As he finished preparing another trout, he grounded his mind back in the here and now, it was a bad habit for old souls like his to let it wander unchained. Ben was enraptured by the story Garth the bard was telling, “…Then, Harlys the Insatiable presented Garth Greenhand with a magnificent white bull he had captured while the beast drank from the Mander, fulfilling his promise to Garth, he sacrificed the beast in his honour and its blood watered the Oakenseat. But Harlys required more favours still…”

His lute rested on his side while he paused for a moment to take a bite from what remained of the trout he had in his right hand. Lucius turned his attention to Garth’s brother, Imry. He was in the middle of a heated discussion with Sefton. “…Who wouldn’t?! You deny it just because you miss your childhood home, but any sane person would choose to live in the bountiful lands of the Reach where wine abounds, women are lovely and people are lively, especially over those gloomy lands of yours. The people there are boorish, wine is scarce, and you must constantly worry about being attacked by the mountain clans, don’t try to deny it, I’ve been there.”

“Bah!” Sefton made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “You asked me where I would live if I could choose anywhere in the realm, and I answered, you don’t have to share my choice. Also, there isn’t any mountain clan in The Paps.” Sefton’s face was reddened by wine, the cheap prices in Harrenhal hadn’t helped Lucius’ drunkard new friend to reign in his compulsion for wine.

The brothers were free riders from Oldtown. They claimed their father was the greatest stonemason in the city. They were the fourth and fifth sons, so their father gifted them a weapon, armour, and a horse and bid them to make their fortune. They had joined Lucius’ group six days past.

Lucius' attention then shifted to the two men who were not speaking. One was Ferret, who had eaten the first trout so fast he was already beginning another, he was sitting next to Ben, pretending not to be paying attention to Garth’s story, a task at which he failed miserably since he stopped his frenzied eating every time the story took a shocking or unexpected turn.

The other was Tommard, he sat next to Lucius, he was picking all the little spines that remained in the trout before taking every bite. In the three days, Tommard had spent with their group Lucius concluded he was not all there. They hadn’t had another choice but to accept him though, it was the last day in which the inscriptions were open, so they took in the first man they found, which, unfortunately, was Tommard.

Tommard finished his careful picking and after a quick inspection took a bite. While moving the trout to his mouth the chain on his wrist clanked. It was a strange chain, two of the links were forged from red gold while the other three were made of silver. Sefton had told Lucius the links represented knowledge in an area of study. That Tommard had links at all, Sefton told him, meant that he had gone to the Citadel in Oldtown. The red gold signified knowledge in the matters of money, while the silver signified knowledge in healing, the matters of the human body and medicine. This meant that Tommard could at least prove himself somewhat useful if any of them was injured during the tournament.

While he ate Tommard looked at Harrenhal, and soon Lucius found himself watching the monstrosity too. They were a mile away from there, Sefton had convinced them that it was better not to be so close to the other tents of the richer knights and camps of poor knights and smallfolk, they made too much noise, and they wouldn’t be able to sleep properly, he had said. He had been correct; Lucius could hear the ruckus coming from the camps.

But it wasn’t the sound coming from there that caught Lucius’ attention, it was the castle itself, looming over them like a giant, even though they were far away. Lucius hadn’t seen a structure as big as that castle in all his life. The melted towers gave it an ominous presence. Lucius imagined that assaulting the fully garrisoned castle in all its splendour would be a daunting task.

“Is it true?” He asked Tommard without taking his eyes off the giant melted towers. “Did Aegon the conqueror mount a giant beast that breath fire? I had doubted it, but I can't begin to imagine what could melt stone like that.”

Tommard snickered. “What did you doubt? That Aegon had a dragon?” He asked.

“No. That such creatures could exist.” He turned to Tommard. “There was no creature like that where I’m from.” He told him.

“There are no creatures like that anywhere nowadays. It’s better for everyone that way I suppose. They brought nothing to the world but destruction.” Tommard said staring at the stars for a moment and then turning back towards the melted towers. “But to answer your question, yes, it is true. Aegon and his sisters mounted dragons, and with them, they conquered The Seven Kingdoms. The kings of The Westerlands and The Reach joined forces to fight him after Aegon burned Harrenhal and subdued The Stormlands.”

He paused to take another bite from the trout and drank some wine before continuing. “They had five times more men than the conqueror, it didn’t matter much, Aegon and his sisters mounted their dragons, burned everything around the army of the two kings and then burned the army itself.” Tommard slowly shook his head. “The swords of the defeated now are part of the Iron Throne.”

“What happened to them? To the dragons.” Lucius asked, it was the first time since he arrived in this land that he found someone capable and willing to answer his questions.

Tommard took another bite and shrugged. “Whatever happens to everything eventually, they all died. If you want to know how they died…” Tommard paused for a moment and waited until Lucius nodded. “The last dragon died more than a century ago, after the Dance the only dragons left were the size of cats, none of them outlived Aegon III.” He leaned towards Lucius in a conspiratorial manner. “I heard King Aegon poisoned the last dragons; he was afraid of them. One of them ate his mother.” Tommard whispered.

“What is the dance?” Lucius asked him.

Tommard clicked his tongue. “Do you want me to tell you stories all night? What Am I? Your nanny? Stop asking me useless questions and focus on the trout. Look.” He pointed at the trout Lucius was cooking. “You burned them.” Tommard shook his head.

Lucius looked at the trout and sighed. He had burned them.

The rest of the night Lucius kept to himself and focused on cooking the trout. He tried to imagine what a dragon looked like, but for some reason, his mind kept going to a giant bird made of fire.

Hours passed and the banter died down and the fire extinguished, one by one his companions went to sleep until Lucius was the only one awake, alone with the ruckus coming from the camps and tents outside of Harrenhal. It was he who had the first turn taking watch that night.

He spent the time looking at the melted towers of Harrenhal, standing tall like giant candles of stone. He imagined Aegon on his dragon burning the castle. It must have been quite the sight. Finally, his time was up, he woke up Ben and went to sleep. In four days, the tournament would begin. It was Lucius' chance to win some gold and renown in this land, and he intended to seize it.