Prince Duncan the Small.
The recognition hit him like a fist to his face. For a long heartbeat he could do nothing but stare while every muscle in his body locked up. The prince's dark hair hidden by a cloak, his handsome features etched with irritation rather than the princely charm he usually wore at court, but there was no mistaking him
Duncan was here.... in this reeking Flea Bottom brothel, arguing with a woman who stood half a head shorter than him.
She wore a threadbare green dress that had once been fine silk; now the hem was stained with wine and the neckline sagged to the point her breasts almost spilled out. Her dark hair hung in strands around a face that might have been pretty once before the years of hard living carved lines around her mouth.
Why was the prince here?
Arthur's mind raced as he tried to come up with an answer, the obvious answer was that he was meeting a whore, but even that didn't make much sense. Noble blood saw finer whites than these.
Something strange was going on.
He kept his face blank and shrunk in on himself to keep himself inconspicuous in case Duncan looked over. Inside the questions piled one atop another like stones sliding down a cliff. Duncan had left for Harrenhal with his father and the rest of the royal party, everyone in the Red Keep had watched the column ride out including himself. Yet here he sat, in the lowest sort of place the city had to offer.
'Wait.'
'No...'
'He couldn't have...'
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[NEW QUEST RECEIVED]
THEFT OF EMBERS
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Description:
Three Dragon Eggs have vanished without a trace. With only Rhaella seeing a shadowed figure spirit them away.
Find the eggs. Uncover the truth. And decide whether your suspicions are justified... or dangerously misplaced.
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Objectives:
• Locate and recover all three Dragon Eggs
• Identify the true culprit behind the theft
Optional Objectives:
• ????
Rewards:
• Familiar Token
• +500 XP
• ????
Failure:
• Dragon Eggs lost permanently
• Unknown consequences begin to unfold
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The pieces began to fit together with sickening clarity while he watched Duncan lean closer to the woman and hiss something that made her flinch. Who else would know of the secret tunnels in the Red Keep? Who else would have unrestricted access to the vault itself? A prince of the blood could walk those corridors at any hour without raising suspicion; the guards would bow and look away.
But why steal the eggs?
Why bring them here, of all places, to this disease-ridden corner of Flea Bottom?
More importantly what in the Seven Hells was Arthur supposed to do about it?
He could not arrest the prince. He could not even confront him. He was a squire, a landless, lowborn, raised on a failing farm in the Crownlands. Duncan was eldest born to King Aegon, beloved by half the realm. If Arthur so much as raised his voice in accusation here, he would be lucky to leave the brothel with his head still attached to his shoulders.
He needed proof. Solid, undeniable proof.
Two more women approached while he sat frozen in thought. The first was the redhead from earlier; she slid onto the bench beside him without invitation and pressed her thigh against his while she trailed painted nails along the inside of his wrist. "You've been staring awful hard at nothing, handsome. Let me give you something worth looking at." She leaned in until her breath brushed his ear. "Room upstairs. I'll ride you slow till you forget your own name. Only three coppers if you're gentle with me."
The second woman, a wiry brunette with a scar cutting through one eyebrow slipped in on his other side and rested her hand high on his thigh. "Or me and her together. We work good as a pair. You look strong enough to handle both of us at once." She squeezed. "What do you say, love? Let us take care of you."
Arthur barely registered their words. His gaze stayed locked on Duncan while the prince stood abruptly, shoving back the rickety stool. The woman in green rose with him, clutching a small satchel to her chest the same satchel whose outline pressed against the leather in a way that suggested something rounded and heavy inside.
Duncan muttered something snd she nodded quickly and fell into step behind him. Three other men at the table rose as well and followed the pair toward the narrow stair at the back of the room.
Arthur turned his head just enough to catch the redhead's eye. "Where does that stair lead?"
She followed his gaze and smiled, showing a missing tooth on the left side. "Upstairs, sweetling. Where we take our customers to have fun. Private rooms. Beds. Whatever you fancy." She rubbed her palm in circles over his chest. "You want to see for yourself?"
Arthur reached into the pouch at his belt, found a silver stag by touch, and pressed it into her palm without looking down. "That enough for both of you to show me?"
The redhead's eyes widened; she bit the coin once to test it, then grinned wide enough to show both missing teeth. "That's more than enough, love. Come on, then."
They rose together while the brunette hooked her arm through his and the redhead pressed herself against his other side. They guided him through the crowd until they reached the stair. Arthur tried to keep Duncan in sight, but the prince had already disappeared around the turn at the landing. He craned his neck, searching the upper hallway, but the women tugged him forward.
"Easy now," the brunette murmured against his shoulder while they pushed him through the first open door on the left. "Plenty of time for looking later."
The room was small, low-ceilinged, lit by a single tallow candle that smoked and guttered on a shelf. A narrow bed took up most of the space; the mattress sagged in the middle and the sheets carried the faint sourness of too many bodies and not enough washing. A chipped basin sat in one corner beside a stool. The air smelled of old sweat, spilled seed, and the cheap rosewater the women dabbed behind their ears.
The redhead kicked the door shut with her heel while she turned to face him. "Let's get you comfortable, shall we?" She reached for the ties of his tunic. The brunette moved behind him, sliding her hands up under the hem to push the fabric upward while she pressed kisses along the back of his neck.
Arthur felt his pulse kick hard not from desire, but from the sudden awareness of how trapped he was in this tiny room with two women while Duncan and the eggs slipped farther away every second. He caught the redhead's wrists gently but firmly before she could pull the tunic over his head. "Wait," he said. "Not yet."
The brunette laughed softly against his ear while her hands kept roaming across his stomach. "Nervous, are we? First time in a place like this? Don't worry, sweetling, we'll be gentle."
"I'm not nervous," Arthur answered while he stepped sideways, trying to disengage without shoving them. "I just... need a moment."
The redhead pouted, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. "A moment? We've got all night if you paid for it." She tugged at his belt anyway, loosening the buckle. "Come on, let us see what you're hiding under all this."
Arthur exhaled through his nose while he caught her hands again, this time more decisively. "Both of you. On the bed. Face down."
The brunette raised an eyebrow while she exchanged a glance with her friend. "Bossy, aren't you? I like that."
She released him and backed toward the mattress, crawling onto it on hands and knees before stretching out on her stomach. The redhead followed a second later, wiggling her hips once before settling beside her companion. Both watched him over their shoulders with expectant smiles.
Arthur moved to the edge of the bed while he knelt on the thin mattress. He placed one hand between the redhead's shoulder blades and the other on the small of the brunette's back. "Relax," he told them. "Breathe slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
They obeyed, though more out of curiosity than anything else and he began. His thumbs pressed into the tight muscles along their spines while his fingers spread outwardly. He worked the knots he found beneath their shoulder blades, kneading with constant pressure until he felt the first long sigh escape the redhead's lips. The brunette followed a moment later, her body softening under his touch while her eyelids fluttered half-closed.
"That's... gods, that's good," the brunette murmured while she turned her face into the pillow. "Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Shhhh," Arthur answered quietly while he using [Massage]. He then channeled just enough Hamon to make the golden energy flow through his palms. The sparks were invisible to anyone but him, but he felt them ripple outward, soothing inflamed tissue, easing the constant ache of overworked muscles and bruised skin. The women groaned in unison and their bodies melted deeper into the mattress.
He worked down their backs, his thumbs tracing either side of their spines, then returned to the base of their necks where tension lived thickest. The redhead whimpered and her hips shifted restlessly against the sheets. The brunette's breathing slowed until each exhale came longer than the last.
When he felt their heartbeats drop into the rhythm of approaching sleep, he pressed both palms flat and sent a stronger pulse of Hamon through them, just enough to tip them over the edge into unconsciousness without harm. Their bodies went limp and they both fell into a restless sleep.
Arthur sat back on his heels while he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of one wrist. He checked both women's pulses then stood carefully so the mattress would not creak too loudly.
He pulled the thin blanket over them, tucking it around their shoulders, before he moved to the door.
He then eased the door open with his shoulder while he kept one hand on the hilt of his sword, just in case.
The hallway outside was narrow and pretty dark, lit only by a single candle halfway down its length. He stepped out, already scanning left and right for any sign of movement, and nearly collided chest-first with a cloaked figure coming the other way.
For one heartbeat Arthur thought it was Duncan. As he saw the same violet eyes the man had. But then the man shifted, and his hood slipped back far enough for Arthur to see the fall of long white hair beneath it, pure silver, not the darker shade Duncan wore. Arthur raised both hands immediatel. "My apologies. I didn't see you."
The man did not step aside. Instead he drove one palm hard into Arthur's chest, shoving with surprising force for his build. "Watch where you're going, you lumbering ox," the man spat. "This isn't a tourney yard for clodhoppers to stumble through."
Arthur exhaled slowly through his nose while he steadied himself. He could feel the beginnings of irritation coil in his gut, but he swallowed it down. The eggs were somewhere in this building and Prince Duncan was close. A petty insult from a stranger was nothing and would not make him lose his composure.
"Sorry again," he said evenly, already turning away. He did not give the man another glance as he moved down the corridor.
The upper floor of the brothel assaulted every sense at once. Moans drifted through walls punctuated by the constant slap of flesh on flesh and the occasional cry that wasn't from pleasure. Several doors were open, through one opening Arthur glimpsed a fat man braced on his knees with his trousers around his ankles, stroking himself furiously while he watched the couple on the bed. Another door showed a foursome with one man int he centre Arthur tuned it all out, narrowing his focus to the faint tug his Shining ability still followed.
He closed his eyes for a moment while he stood in the middle of the corridor, breathing slowly and inhaling through his nose the way he did before channeling Hamon. The sounds around him dulled to a distant hum and after a moment he let his mind guide him until the pull settled like a thread in his chest. It tugged him forward, past three more doors, around a bend, and down to the very end of the hallway where a single room waited behind a door.
Arthur tested the latch with his hand. Locked of course. But luckily the wood itself looked rotten, swollen from years of damp and neglect. He set his shoulder against the jamb, planted his feet, and drove forward with a single hard shove.
The door gave with a splintering CRACK. Wood tore away from the frame and the latch mechanism tore free and clattered across the floorboards inside. Arthur stepped through the opening while splinters still drifted down around his boots.
The room was larger than the others he had passed, but still cramped, still filthy, and with a single narrow window letting in the last light of the eevening. A small chest sat open on the sagging bed; inside, three dragon eggs. One was deep crimson shot through with veins of black, another midnight blue flecked with silver, the third pale green that and purple.
A man stood at the far side of the room, back to the door, bent over the desk. He was writing something on a piece of parchment though whatever it was he couldn't see.
Arthur took one step inside. Prince Duncan," he said loud enough to get his attention. "Step away from the desk."
The man straightened and turned around, when he showed his face Arthur's face morphed into one of confusion
Not Duncan.
The same Valyrian features, besides the silver hair, but the face belonged to someone older, uglier, someone Arthur had never seen before.
The man's lips curled in fury. "Who in the seven hells are you?" he snarled. "Get out. Now and get those trollops to send in some more wine."
Arthur shook off his confusion and instead stepped forward. "Those eggs don't belong to you, throw any weapons you have away and come with me to receive the crowns justice."
The man's face twisted further. "You've got some fucking nerve, you lowborn cunt. You think you can barge in here and—" He broke off, reached beneath his cloak and hurled a dagger in a single fluid motion.
[The World]
Time stopped.
The world froze in perfect stillness, the candle flame locked in a teardrop of fire, dust motes hanging motionless in the air, the dagger that was thrown suspended six inches from Arthur's chest. He reached out and plucked the blade from the air by the hilt, and drove it into the wall beside the door with enough force that the steel punched through wood until only the crossguard remained visible.
Time snapped back.
The man's eyes widened. "What the—"
"One chance," Arthur said quietly. "Give me the eggs and give yourself up otherwise I'll have to hurt you."
The man barked a laugh that sounded more like a snarl. "You think you can threaten me, you jumped-up pig-fucker? I'll gut you and fuck the hole while you're still twitching."
Arthur sighed and looked down at his shoes for a moment. When he looked back up his features had hardened and he stepped fully inside, and kicked the broken door shut behind him. The latch no longer worked, but the weight of the wood held it closed.
He crossed the room in three strides.
The man lunged, drawing a short sword from beneath his cloak. Arthur caught the wrist on the downswing, twisted hard and felt the joint pop. The sword clattered to the floor making the man man hiss in pain, he tried to drive a knee into Arthur's groin; Arthur shifted his hips, took the blow on the thigh instead, and retaliated with a strong punch to his stomach.
Air exploded from the man's lungs in a wet whoof and he practically doubled doubled over. Arthur grabbed him by the front of his tunic, lifted him clean off the floor and slammed him back-first into the wall hard enough that wooden dust rained down. The man's head snapped back against the wood with a dull THUD snd he looked to fall between consciousness and unconsciousness.
Despite that Arthur did not let him recover. He drove a knee up into the man's stomach, then another into his ribs when he tried to curl away. Arthur then threw him through the dresser and started to roll his shoulders while the man stood up. "You should really learn to mind your manners..." Arthur said as he continued to walk towards him.
The man tried to slip sideways Arthur caught him by the throat, lifted again, and threw him across the room. The man crashed into the desk; parchment and inkwell flew and spilled over him and with a groan the man slid to the floor in a tangle of splintered wood.
The man scrambled up, blood trickling from his nose and lip. He snatched the fallen short sword and slashed wildly. Arthur stepped inside the arc, caught the wrist again, twisted until he heard the crack of bone, then drove his forehead into the bridge of the man's nose.
He did not stop. He grabbed the man by both shoulders, spun him, and hurled him into the opposite wall. The man slid down and tried to rise but Arthur stepped in and drove a heavy right hook into his jaw. The man's head snapped sideways and many of his teeth left him and clattered over the floor. He next received an uppercut that lifted him onto his toes, then a straight punch to the sternum that folded him in half again.
The man was gasping now, blood bubbling at his lips, but still trying to crawl toward the chest on the bed and still muttering insults and curses at Arthur.
"You trying to say something?" Arthur said as he dragged him back by the leg and lifted him through the air slamming him into the wall like he was using him as a weapon. He then lifted him up by his shirt and pushed him against the wall. "Why did you steal the eggs?"
"Who told you about the tunnels in the Red keep!" Arthur said in its increasing annoyance.
The man just gave him a blood red smile and then tried to spit at him.
[The World]
Arthur moved his head and then swung at his face so hard that he shattered the wood behind the man. Letting him fall to the floor as he gurgled and choked on blood. "I let my temper get the best of me again..." Arthur muttered with a sigh.
*Thud*
*Thud*
*Thud*
The sounds of footsteps echoed down the hallway before three men burst through the ruined door.
All of them had the Valyrian look, and they all wore dark cloaks and carried daggers already drawn.
"Get off him!" one shouted while he lunged.
Arthur pivoted, caught the first man's wrist mid-thrust, wrenched it upward until the elbow hyperextended with a POP, then drove his fist into the man's throat. The attacker choked and staggered back making room for the second to come in, aiming for Arthur's kidney; Arthur dropped his weight, caught the man around the waist, lifted, and slammed him down onto the floorboards so hard the planks cracked. The third tried to circle behind; Arthur spun, grabbed him by the cloak, and hurled him into the wall beside the first man.
"Grab the eggs!" the one on the floor wheezed. "The Boat will be at the docks at dawn!"
One of the men scrambled toward the chest. Arthur lunged after him, but the other two recovered and tackled him from behind. Their combined weight drove him forward; he caught himself on one knee, then surged upright, throwing both men off like they weighed nothing. He charged the egg thief, but the man was already halfway out the door with the chest clutched to his chest.
He rushed out the corridor giving chase but the man was a fast little fucker and he was already to the stair case. Arthur quickly realized he would not catch him before he left and disappeared into the back streets.
Trying to think quickly on his feet he looked at the floorboards beneath him. They were old, rotten and warped, some of them even being brittle.
"That'll have to do..."
He activated the Shining again this time he used it in a way he'd never done before. To try and predict where the thief would be and the path that he was going to take out of the Brothel.
"There!"
He took three running steps, planted one foot, and launched himself upward. His body arced through the air; he twisted mid-flight and brought both elbows down in a perfect belly slam.
The floor gave way with a thunderous CRASH.
Wood splintered outward in a jagged starburst. Arthur plummeted through the floor in a shower of dust and broken planks and landed square on a table below. Tankards overturned, platters of greasy chicken and bread flew, ale sprayed in foaming arcs. He hit the common-room floor in a crouch then rose immediately.
The egg thief stood frozen three paces away looking like the stranger himself at just come for him.
Arthur closed the distance in one stride, seized the man by the throat with his left hand, and lifted him straight off the floor. With his right he snatched the chest away and tucked it under his arm. The thief's feet kicked uselessly; his hands clawed at Arthur's wrist.
The room had gone quiet except for the drip of spilled ale and the murmurs of a few of the patrons.
Every eye in the brothel was on him.
Arthur did not like the looks he was getting one bit. "This is business of the Crown. If anyone draws a weapon or starts a fight, your heads will be the first hitting the floor."
A ripple moved through the crowd. Most patrons backed away at once, some stumbling over their benches in their haste to leave, others simply turning and pushing toward the door. A few stayed rooted, though... hard men with scarred knuckles and the eyes of criminals. After so much time in Kings Landing Arthur had known how to identify the type.
The man in Arthur's grip managed a bloody smile. "You're fucked, boy."
Arthur hurled him sideways. The thief crashed into the wall and slid down in a heap falling unconscious. Arthur drew his sword in the same motion, backing up two paces so his legs brushed the splintered remains of the table.
He leveled his blade at the dozen or so patrons.
"Last warning," he said.
A big man near the bar growled while he hefted a large axe. "You spilled my ale and my fucking chicken, you cunt."
Others muttered agreement.
"I'll pay for the damage," Arthur tried to reason.
No one listened.
They started closing in slowly at first, then faster as a few of them became more confident. Arthur shifted his stance, ready to meet the first rush.
Then the side door of one of the rooms slammed open hard enough to bounce off the wall.
Prince Duncan charged through with his longsword already drawn. He barreled straight into the nearest group of men, shoulder-checking one into a table and slashing the sword out of another's hand with a single stroke. "Run let's go!" Duncan shouted at Arthur while he parried a wild knife thrust, before kicking the man back and turning around.
Arthur did not argue, there was at least two dozen men in there and he didn't have his armour on. He sprinted for the door with the chest still tucked under his arm, Duncan falling in beside him a heartbeat later, Arthur shouldered the door off its hinges and they burst out into the night air of Flea Bottom.
Though it seemed the scum of flea bottom wouldn't let them escape so easily.
Men poured out of the brothel behind them, some shouting, some brandishing improvised weapons, all of them clearly wanting to kill them . A tankard sailed past Arthur's head and clinged against a wall. A broken bottle followed, narrowly missing Duncan's shoulder.
"Best we go, before we overstay our welcome," Duncan said with a grin.
"You'll hear no argument from me," Arthur replied.
Both men started running through the twisting alleys of flea bottom while being chased. It was good that Arthur had been quite familiar with flea bottom as he was able to navigate it well enough that they didn't get lost. They turned corners, doubled back, lost half the mob in the maze of Flea Bottom's warren. When the last footsteps finally faded they ducked into a narrow gap between two leaning buildings and pressed their backs to the damp brick while they fought for breath.
Duncan leaned forward, hands on his knees and then after a moment he started laughing, quiet at first, but quickly turning into a full belly laugh. "Gods," he wheezed between breaths. "It's been years since I've been chased out of Flea Bottom like that."
Arthur however did not laugh, he stood there watching the Prince with a blank stare.
Duncan straightened slowly while he wiped sweat and grime from his face with the back of one sleeve. He met Arthur's gaze. "You must have a lot you want to say to me."
Arthur did not answer yes or no.
Duncan sighed while he sheathed his sword. "You must wonder why I'm not at Harrenhal. Why I'm here instead."
He gestured vaguely toward the street. "Come on. Let's find a tavern that isn't crawling with angry drunks. I'll explain it all there. I could use a drink."
Arthur shook his head. "It's not necessary, Your Grace, I am merely a Squire. What matters is getting you back to the safety of the Red Keep."
Duncan waved the words away while he pushed off the wall. "We can do that later. Right now I need a drink, and I need a drinking partner." He started walking, then paused and looked over his shoulder.
"Besides. You'll want to hear what I have to say. It involves you... or more specifically, your woman Cassie."
Needless to say Arthur followed him.
(AN: Damn what does Duncan have to say? Is it important? Who knows man. Anyway hope you enjoyed it.)
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