Chapter 71: The Rhoynish Gambit and the Two Dragons
The chill of the night air, high above the rolling plains of Ergos, invigorated Maegor. He was not alone. Beside him, a darker, swifter shadow kept pace. Following his surprising knighting, Maegor had extended an unprecedented invitation to Viserys: a night flight. A display of trust, and a crucial step in their strategy. Maegor, astride Balerion, now a gargantuan presence easily fifty meters long, its wings beating with the force of a gale, led the way. Beside him, Viserys rode Umbra, his grey dragon, now stout and strong, easily the size of two adult cows, its wings pumping furiously to keep up with Balerion's majestic stride. This was a partnership of terrifying power, a sight unseen in the world for centuries.
Their destination was the County of Aenoris, nestled in the north of the Duchy of Daarno. Their target: the large town of Faeniros, the county seat, and the residence of Magister Peyos Freyna. Aenoris County was distinct, comprising not just the Faeniros Barony (with its two small towns and three large villages), but also four other baronies – Omoris, Anerassar, Helanah, and Eranerah – each containing small to medium-sized villages. Peyos Freyna, as Aerion Lightstep had reported, was a Rhoynish man, ruling through quiet diplomacy, not military might, and harboring a subtle resentment against the Myrish overlordship.
After an hour of breathtaking flight, the lights of Faeniros glowed below them like scattered embers. Maegor directed Balerion towards the heart of the town, specifically to the sprawling Freyna Estate, the lavish residence of the Magister.
Balerion descended with a powerful, calculated roar that reverberated through the night. He landed with a bone-shaking thump directly on the manicured lawns of the estate's main courtyard, his colossal form dwarfing the elegant fountains and manicured hedges. Umbra landed swiftly beside him, smaller but equally imposing, letting out a sharp, guttural growl.
The estate guards, taken utterly by surprise, froze. Their spears clattered to the ground as they stared, paralyzed by a terror so profound it transcended their duty. Two dragons. Here. In their master's private courtyard.
Maegor dismounted from Balerion, Blackfyre a dark, humming presence at his hip. Viserys dismounted from Umbra, his face pale, but his stance firm, his new status as a Dragon Knight visibly bolstering his courage.
"Magister Peyos Freyna!" Maegor's voice boomed, magically amplified by his Royal Authority (Uncommon), cutting through the terrified silence. "I demand your presence! Now!"
Lights flared in the mansion. Servants screamed. Guards muttered terrified prayers. After what felt like an eternity, but was perhaps only a minute, a portly man in ornate, silken robes, his face a mask of utter bewilderment and profound fear, hurried out onto the estate's grand doorstep. This was Magister Peyos Freyna, the Rhoynish ruler of Aenoris. He was flanked by a handful of personal guards, who looked ready to faint.
Peyos's eyes, wide and disbelieving, darted from Balerion to Umbra, then finally fixed on Maegor, his silver hair gleaming in the torchlight, his purple eyes burning with an ancient fire. He saw Blackfyre. He saw Viserys, another silver-haired figure. The legend, the impossible truth, had landed on his very doorstep.
He managed a shaky bow. "My… my King?" Peyos stammered, his voice thin, utterly stripped of his usual diplomatic composure. "I… I did not expect… this honor. To what do I owe this… this nocturnal visit?"
Maegor's gaze was unyielding. "Magister Freyna," he stated, his voice cold, direct, imbued with Conquest Aura (Epic), "I am Maegor Targaryen, King and Duke of Qehes. I come to you not as an invader seeking to burn, but as a liberator offering protection. Your lands, the County of Aenoris, have long suffered under the distant, indifferent rule of Myr and the heavy hand of Magister Ghazaro."
He paused, letting his words sink in. He remembered Aerion Lightstep's report of Rhoynish resentment. "Your people are Rhoynish. They hold traditions distinct from the Myrish. Your subtle resistance, your quiet defiance, has been noted. I know you value peace, not plunder. And I know you resent the burden of Myr's tribute."
Viserys stepped forward, standing a little taller beside Maegor, Umbra letting out a low growl of agreement. "My King speaks the truth, Magister," Viserys added, his voice surprisingly firm, carrying the weight of his new status. "Myr has only taken from you. My King offers a different path."
Peyos Freyna swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Maegor, Balerion, and the now-familiar figure of Viserys (whom he would have known as Viserys Targaryen, the exiled "Beggar King"). He saw no malice in Maegor's face, only cold, unyielding resolve. This was not a negotiation from strength, but a declaration. And the truth of the situation was undeniable. Two dragons.
"My King," Peyos began, his voice still trembling, but a flicker of his diplomatic shrewdness returning. He needed to understand the terms. "What… what do you propose? What are the terms of this 'protection'?"
Maegor merely smiled, a cold, predatory expression that promised absolute dominion. "Submission, Magister. Complete and utter fealty to House Targaryen. Your county will be fully integrated into my Duchy of Qehes. In return, I offer peace. I offer stability. I offer an end to Myrish oppression. Your people will prosper. And you, Magister Peyos Freyna, will continue to govern Aenoris, as my vassal, as its Count. Your position will be hereditary, secured by the power of the Dragon. Your people will not suffer. But your allegiance will be absolute."
He let the silence hang, the weight of his offer, and the implicit threat, pressing down on the Rhoynish Magister. Peyos looked at the ground, then back at the impossible reality of the dragons before him. He was a diplomat, not a warrior. He was facing the very embodiment of power.