274 A.D. Volantis The next few days were spent in constant fuss. It was necessary to make all possible preparations so that the whole city knew about the merchant from the "closed and cold North". And all means were used. Street punks were bribed to spread rumors and attract customers, leaflets with the image of a giant bear and scary unshaven northerners were drawn and hung all over the city.
I even had to attend several local social events, to which Alkaro invited me. I can only say that they were not a bit like the decorous and elegant balls of Earth. I have never seen such a gathering of peacocks, painted in all the colors of the rainbow and proud of it, and high society, I will not hesitate to use this word, whores, whose outfits could shame any Dornish woman.
This will probably be one of the reasons why I will never settle in Essos - not only will I have to constantly worry about Dothraki raids, but I will also have to regularly communicate with these idiots. Thank all the gods that the further north you go, the more relaxed the morals of the Free Cities are, but they have their own problems.
I can't stand those same bearded priests of Norvos and the cultists of the Black Goat Qohor, who actually rule their cities. There is no need to talk about the famous city of Braavos, which, according to rumors, is the center of training the Faceless (on its own citizens).
Lorath remains, but it is too poor and has few prospects for trade. Therefore, at all the dinner parties I used the simplest and most effective tactic - smile and wave. Perhaps Oberyn helped me the most. This Casanova, like a child who had gotten his hands on something sweet, began to carouse and walk all over Volantis, attracting so many people to his drinking parties that it almost turned into a natural disaster.
For example, on the second day of the festivities, he and the core of his company, consisting mainly of the sons of the Volantine aristocracy and rich merchants, broke into the temple of R'hllor, somehow avoiding a meeting with the Order of the Fiery Hand, and found a training center for temple prostitutes there. What followed next does not need to be explained.
The spectacle of how the fathers of these fools, led by Belicio, apologized to the high priest of the temple the next day, was still the talk of the whole city. Oberyn did not know how to keep his mouth shut, thanks to which almost everyone in the city knew about my beautiful beast. By the day of the beginning of the pre-election fair, everything was ready.
***
P . O . V . Third person Volantis... Heir of Valyria... How much meaning, how much pride, how much sweat and tears the inhabitants of this glorious city put into these words. Originally built as a border outpost to guard the western borders of Valyria, Volantis was nothing special. In those days, the Valyrians expanded their possessions to the west from their ancestral lands and reached the mother of waters - the Rhoyne.
This full-flowing and rich in its gifts river thousands of years ago, even before the Great Migration to the West, was chosen by the people who were later named in its honor - the Rhoynar. In the first century, it was an ordinary, unremarkable border fortress, where there were no other permanent inhabitants, except for the warriors of the garrison and the rare foragers, merchants and whores who served them.
Sometimes dragonlords would stop there to rest during long flights or to meet with Rhoynar ambassadors. However, despite its proximity to the rich Rhoynar city of Saroy, the place for settlement turned out to be very successful.
Over time, taverns, pillow houses, craft workshops and berths for trading ships grew outside the Black Walls. And even later, an entire trading city grew on the eastern bank of the river, only slightly inferior in importance to its neighbor.
Naturally, Saroy did not like this. Wars began, where each of the four coastal cities - the Valyrian Volanthis and Valon Theris and the Rhoynar Saroy and Sar Mel - fought for their survival. The decisive factor was the presence of help from the metropolis, or rather the dragon riders. Saroy was burned, and Sar Mel was slaughtered. But everything has its consequences.
These events prompted the Rhoynar, under the leadership of Prince Garin, to mobilize all their troops and ravage the Valyrian cities on the river. Somehow Volantis survived, but its inhabitants, barely holding out under siege, had no choice but to turn to their homeland, Valyria, for help. And their cry was answered.
Three hundred dragons with their riders arrived to save the colony. In a grand battle, tens of thousands of Rhoynar soldiers burned, drowned, or were killed under the walls of the city.
Later, other Rhoynar cities were ravaged, and their inhabitants were driven into slavery to work for the rest of their lives in the mines of the Fourteen Fires. A wonderful six centuries of peace reigned. Until the Doom came. Valyria, the home of the dragons, the greatest nation that had ever existed, was gone. And in its western domains arose the Free Cities.
The Volantenes knew and remembered who they were. The heirs of Valyria, the great empire that ruled the world. So they decided that they could unite the broken realm under their own rule, and that their city should be the capital of the new Republic and restore the greatest civilization on the planet.
It was then that the Tiger and Elephant factions arose, though these names were given to them later: the first group, more warlike and relying on the old nobility, who possessed pure Valyrian blood and called themselves the descendants of the true dragons, believed that they could conquer the continent by force of arms.
And the second, whose supporters were the merchants and moneylenders who rose from the ranks of the western city, saw a safer path in mutually beneficial trade, rather than in costly war. Thus began the Bloody Age, a hundred years of rule over Volantis by the Tigers.
They had indeed been successful in their conquests, capturing Lys with their fleet and Myr with their land army, and for sixty years these cities were under Volantis' rule. But their further campaigns were a failure.
Having been defeated by Tyrosh, and then having lost all their armies in battles against a coalition of Tyrosh, Pentos, Lys, Myr, the Storm King Argilac Durrandon, and the Dragon Lord Aegon I Targaryen, all secretly supported by Braavos, Volantis had ended its glorious history of conquest.
And now, on the day when the Elephants had seized control of the city and marked the end of the Bloody Age, every free citizen of Volantis walked its beautiful streets, watching performances by local and visiting troupes. Acrobats flying on their bungees above the roofs of houses, stilt walkers looking down on everyone thanks to their stilts, small dwarfs playing the roles of clowns and harlequins...
What kind of performances were not shown on the streets of this city. But one of them attracted spectators much more than others. At one of the many crossroads of Volantis, where most of the performances took place, a giant tent was spread out. Covered with the skins of wild and terrifying animals that none of the city's inhabitants had seen before, with trim made of tusks and bones of sea creatures and tripods surrounding it, in which a bright red fire burned, it created a terrible, but at the same time fascinating spectacle for all present.
The show began only at sunset, when the sky turned blood-red and the sun was about to disappear over the horizon, plunging this world into darkness. Trumpets blared, horns beat, drums pounded. Sounds loud and wild by their nature were carried along the streets of the southern city. They frightened and at the same time fascinated all the spectators, forcing each person present to begin their own internal struggle - to leave the incomprehensible and strange spectacle, and to stay and watch until the end. Almost always the second won.
- The world is endless. - A velvety and powerful baritone began to fly sharply across the square, attracting the attention of all those present. The speaker turned out to be a giant, by local standards, man with a long black beard, dressed only in rough canvas pants and a bearskin thrown over his shoulders.
But most of all, the spectators were attracted by his weapon - a giant battle axe, placed perpendicular to the ground and held with both hands. It was clear from its appearance that it was a combat weapon, covered in chips and unwashed old blood. The man's face was not visible due to the play of light and shadow that followed the onset of dusk, but this was not necessary.
The imagination of the spectators itself completed the necessary details, creating a portrait of a great warrior telling his ancient story.
- He is not limited to this city, this area, this continent. His voice was mesmerizing, forcing you to listen, giving your full attention to the storyteller.
- In the distant west, beyond the deceptive Narrow, but difficult to cross sea, lies Westeros.
- The tone of the music changed, slowly beginning to gain momentum.
- The strongest winter and frequent autumn storms for centuries buried the peace of sunny Dorne, the fertile Reach, the gold-bearing West, the rainy Storm and Riverlands.
"But once, when the world was more magical, and men were kinder, and steel had not yet conquered them, Essos and Westeros were one."
The narrator's statement caused a storm of confusion and hushed murmurs. After all, historical education was not held in high esteem in Volantis, and most of its inhabitants knew only the tales of the Bloody Age.
"Essos... The cradle of civilization. Back in the days of the Fisher Queens, a legendary dynasty that ruled the lands around the dried-up Silver Sea from their floating palaces, whose wisdom, virtue, and love of the gods were said to be without parallel, men had traveled west along the now-withered arm of Dorne."
Suddenly three shaggy men appeared on the scene, wearing only loincloths and wielding crude swords that looked like they were made of the basest brass.
- They passed through the deserts of Dorne, the cliffs and traps of the Red Mountains, the mud and slush of the Storm Forests, the floods and floods of the Riverlands, like a knife through butter.
Nothing could stop them. As the host spoke, the scenery constantly changed - from painted sands and a sun hanging at the zenith, to steep mountain slopes, from storm clouds and lightning to rivers and endless thickets, forcing you to immerse yourself more and more in the world,existing millennia ago, all the spectators arriving at the square.
Even the "actors" changed - imperceptibly for the spectator, more and more clothes appeared on them, and the weapons seemed to have been replaced by their best analogues.
- Their path ended in the North. - In time with the presenter, ice floes began to fall from somewhere in the sky, very similar to the snow described by the merchants from Braavos. Some spectators did not even believe their eyes, panicking and calming down only when they saw that the "snow" was falling only above the stage.
- The North... The presenter's voice was filled with nostalgia and unbearable longing for the homeland, reinforced by the beat of the slowed melody.
- There was a smell of damp earth and melt water flowing through streams and rivers. There was no forest there, decorated with wide green leaves. The stubborn guardian trees in their grey-green needle coats gave way to mighty oaks and columns of iron trunks, ancient as the nature of these places. There, thick black trunks crowded together, gnarled branches intertwined into a dense canopy overhead, and ugly roots crawled out from under the ground.
Deep silence reigned there, a thoughtful shadow reigned, and the gods who lived in the forest land had no names (p.a. took the description of Catelyn that he liked). It was an old and very ancient land, with its guardians and keepers.
-Wa-a-a-a-r-r-r!!!
- As if in time with the host, a loud roar was heard from behind the stage, causing a reflex tremor and making the heart sink into the heels from fear. Many spectators, especially the women and children present, screamed in fear, preparing to run as fast as they could.
Only two things prevented this - the crowd that completely filled the streets and did not think of moving from the spot, and the calm "actors" who began to only demonstratively look around and peer into the darkness of the approaching night.
- These lands of eternal Winter were guarded by spirits. Spirits of foliage, animals, forests, mountains and flowers.
- As the host spoke, new participants appeared on the stage. Dressed entirely in animal skins, with hoods thrown over their heads in the form of the heads of the strongest predators of Westeros and walking on all fours, they looked more like animals than people. Even the sounds coming from their throats were more reminiscent of the howling of animals than of people.
- And they were not happy with the presence of strangers. The spectacle that followed the host's words seriously frightened the spectators. Like hounds let off a leash, both groups of actors rushed at each other. The beasts howled, bit, tore their enemies with their claws, while the people, not much inferior to their opponents, fought like berserkers, waving sharp, even to look at, swords and huge battle axes. The most attentive spectators noticed how little by little all the actors began to be covered with a red liquid, very similar to blood... It was blood!!!
When the beasts, completely covered in their ichor, fell backwards and the smell of iron settled over the square, everyone realized what this red liquid was. Many young aristocrats, who had never seen so much blood in their lives, fainted in the arms of their partners, but most of the townspeople,most of whom had beaten their slaves half to death at least once, were wildly delighted.
The crowd was treated to the sight of this burgundy liquid, which gave life to all living creatures, like a red rag to a bull.
"The first people defeated the spirits of nature, not without losses," the presenter continued, whose voice, even without raising the volume, managed to reach every spectator in the crowd.
"They continued their journey through the endless forests and mountains until they met him." Suddenly, one of the decorations depicting a forest hill began to move. Slowly sliding down, showering leaves and branches, a bear appeared from under it. A huge bear, almost two meters at the withers, whose appearance alone made the hearts of many spectators sink into their heels.
"Wa ... - The master of the forest has not forgotten and has not forgiven the death of his servants. - The narrator spoke, heating up the situation even more, while the beast was advancing on the warriors who began to look around in fear.
- He himself stepped forward, intending to punish them with his own claws and fangs. As if hearing the command, the bear rushed towards the actors, swinging his paw. The first warrior went flying, spewing streams of blood from his mouth, and, closing his eyes forever, left this world.
The other two still tried to resist the beast, wielding swords and shields, but even the most dim-witted spectators could see that the beast was simply playing with them. Soon they too fell, struck down by the fury and strength of the king of the forest. - He won, remaining the ruler of his land.
- The host said, coming out on stage and starting to stroke the bear on the scruff of the neck, and it did not resist, as if it had not recently torn several people apart.
- But the strength of a person is not in gigantic strength, sharp claws and strong teeth. People are numerous and very smart. In the future, they will defeat the king of the Northern forests, forcing him to flee even further north, but that is a completely different story. Having said this, the host, together with the bear, disappeared behind a suddenly appearing fabric hem. ...
The street was flooded with applause. For the first time, the inhabitants of the Heiress of Valyria saw such a performance. An ancient legend from the distant western Sunset Kingdoms, inhabited by barbarians and savages, filled with blood and horror, appealed to people who had long been tired of the usual comedies and tales.
That evening, many of the townspeople tried to approach the artists, talk to them, learn more about the overseas lands, invite them to a performance and, most importantly, buy the beast, which had never been seen in Volantis before.
The storyteller (who also turned out to be the head of the troupe) set only one condition - whoever could come up and pet the beast without being scared would be able to buy it. This requirement caused a lot of noise in the night city. Soon, a whole line of people wishing to test themselves lined up near the troupe's tent. Which soon broke up, as soon as the first five who entered almost (or almost) lost their fingers.
Of course, there were attempts after that, but they were doomed to failure. So the news about the triach Alcaro Levak, who two days later went there and calmly petted the dangerous and bloodthirsty beast, caused a real furor, becoming the cause of many rumors throughout the city and contributing to a sharp increase in the triarch's popularity.