NOVEL NEXT Chapter 7: Lion’s Den
As I approached the gates of the Triarch's Palace, the sheer scale of the structure became more apparent. The black stone walls, remnants of Valyrian craftsmanship, towered over me, adorned with ancient carvings of dragons and long-forgotten sigils. The guards stationed at the entrance wore distinct tiger-striped cloaks, a symbol of the ruling Tiger faction, their bronze spears crossed before the entrance.
"Halt," one of them commanded, his Valyrian features hardened by years of service. His companion, an older man with streaks of silver in his hair, eyed me with mild curiosity.
I met their gaze with calm authority. "I seek an audience with the Triarchs. I bring news of importance from the ruins of Valyria."
The older guard's brow furrowed. "Many come with false claims of Valyrian artifacts, hoping to swindle gold from the noble families." He gestured toward my attire, my weapons. "You, however, look the part of something… else."
I reached into my satchel and withdrew a small, intricately carved amulet—one I had found among the remnants of my family's vault. It bore the sigil of House Darharis, a dragon wreathed in flame, its eyes studded with rubies. I saw a flicker of recognition in the older guard's eyes.
"I am Rhaegis Darharis, last of my line," I said, lowering my voice. "I have no need to peddle false artifacts. What I bring is true Valyrian legacy."
The two guards exchanged glances, then, after a moment of deliberation, the younger one signaled for the gates to be opened.
"Very well," the older guard said. "But tread carefully, Valyrian. The politics of Volantis are as treacherous as the ruins you came from."
The massive doors groaned open, revealing a vast courtyard beyond. As I stepped inside, the weight of history settled over me. Statues of long-dead Triarchs lined the path leading to the grand hall, their stone faces worn by time yet still bearing an air of authority.
And in the shadows, watching from a balcony above, was a figure draped in dark silk, their sharp eyes following my every move.
I had entered the lion's den.
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As I stepped further into the palace courtyard, the oppressive weight of watchful eyes settled over me. The nobles of Volantis were vultures, circling anything that hinted at power, wealth, or potential leverage. And I was all three.
The figure on the balcony lingered for a moment longer before vanishing behind a curtain. A message, or perhaps a warning. Either way, I had little time to ponder its meaning. A young man in ornate robes approached, his head held high, though the slight downward tilt of his eyes suggested he wasn't used to addressing someone of my apparent stature.
"The honored Triarchs will grant you audience shortly," he said, voice carefully neutral. "Follow me."
I nodded and fell into step behind him.
The halls of the palace were breathtaking—relics of Valyria's glory interwoven with Volantis' own decadence. Mosaics of dragons soared across the domed ceilings, their eyes glinting with inlaid gems. Murals depicted the founding of the Freehold, the conquest of the Rhoynar, and the rise of Volantis as the first daughter of Valyria. But beneath the beauty, I sensed something else. A subtle but ever-present reminder of what Volantis had lost when the Doom swallowed its homeland.
We reached the antechamber of the council hall, where a pair of bronze doors loomed before us. The young attendant gestured toward a waiting area lined with cushioned benches.
"Wait here," he instructed before slipping through a side door.
I remained standing.
A few moments passed before I heard soft footsteps approaching. I turned my head slightly, already aware that I was being studied.
"You walk like a prince," a smooth voice mused. "But you are no prince, are you?"
I faced the speaker. It was the same figure from the balcony—a woman, draped in flowing black and gold silk. Her skin was the rich hue of polished mahogany, her sharp violet eyes betraying her Valyrian lineage. Her silver hair was braided with golden rings, a sign of both wealth and status.
"I am what I choose to be," I replied evenly.
She smiled, but there was something calculating in it. "A dangerous answer in a city like this." She stepped closer, tilting her head. "House Darharis. That is a name spoken only in whispers now."
"You seem well-informed," I said.
"I make it a point to be," she said smoothly. "Especially when a ghost of Valyria walks through the gates of Volantis."
Her words held meaning beyond idle curiosity. She knew something. Perhaps she had been expecting someone like me.
"Who are you?" I asked.
She studied me for a moment before answering. "Nyessis Maegyr."
Maegyr. One of the great families of Volantis. Wealthy, powerful, and deeply entwined with the city's politics. They had once been Valyrian, long ago.
"I imagine the Triarchs will be… curious about you," she continued. "But curiosity can be a dangerous thing, Rhaegis. If you seek power here, you must choose your allies wisely."
I regarded her carefully. "And you would offer me an alliance?"
She chuckled softly. "That depends. Tell me, dragonlord, what do you truly seek in Volantis?"
I met her gaze, considering my words. I had come for knowledge, for resources. But perhaps… there was more to be gained here than just old books and artifacts.
A long game was unfolding in Volantis. And I intended to play it.
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