As Rhaegar was bathed in fire, devouring the kindling.
On the other side of the world, in Lys, the Perfumed Gardens.
Lys has a cool climate and fertile land, covered with palm trees and fruit trees. In ancient times, it was a summer retreat for the Dragonlords. Now, however, it is known for its bed slaves and poisons.
The Perfumed Gardens once belonged to House Rogare as private property, but that was merely in the past.
The power struggles in the Free Cities, like Lys, are just as brutal as in Westeros.
Many Archons have met untimely deaths.
After one of Rhaegar's maternal ancestors, the great Lysandro, the first Archon of Lys for life, fell like the setting sun, subsequent elected Archons of Lys never again harbored dictatorial ambitions. People rumored that the Faceless Men of Braavos murdered Lysandro because Braavos did not like to see other powerful forces exist in Essos.
In a secret room somewhere in the garden, there were no male or female bed slaves, only a group of masked figures. None of them showed their faces. However, from their hair color and accents, it was discernible that the masked people came from different city-states.
Lyseni have blue eyes, platinum blonde curly hair, and smooth, fair skin. They are slender and unsuited for heavy labor, making them major slave owners. Myrish people, on the other hand, closely resemble rhoynar people, with black hair, black eyes, and olive-toned skin.
The flashiest were the Tyroshi, whose hair was green and who wore hats. Tyroshi love bright colors, and their hair and beards are very vibrant. Of course, there were also visitors with Braavosi accents or other accents.
The only commonality was that all these masked figures wore a badge on their chests: 'The Dragon is Dead'.
On the wall of the room hung a banner: in a deep cave in the hills, a golden-armored warrior with an enraged beard and hair used a spear to stab a black evil dragon, blood flowing from its eye sockets and pooling on the ground. The Dragon Slayer slayed the evil dragon and achieved victory.
"My blood of blood, my iron of iron, united to slay the dragon."
"My blood of blood, my iron of iron, united to slay the dragon," everyone shouted.
"I presume everyone is aware of the news from The Citadel. The glass candle flickered a few times and then went out again, indicating that someone is attempting to revive magic. Perhaps, the Dragonspawn in King's Landing have begun another insane experiment," said the leading man, wearing a silver mask and a silver robe, with colorful hair and speaking with a Lyseni accent.
But none of the visitors understood where he truly came from; his accent was Lyseni, his hair color Tyroshi, and his attire was that of a foreign visitor.
"Terrible news. Lyseni don't like dragons, and they certainly don't like those arrogant individuals who call themselves Dragonlords."
"Neither do the Tyroshi."
"Braavosi don't like them either."
They were united by a single will: to eliminate dragons and create a world without them. When dragons rampaged, they brought years of bloodshed to Essos.
The Kingdom of the Daughters had fought the Targaryen Dragonlords many times, even killing several members of the Dragonlord family.
"But this feels like an overreaction. To call us here for such a small matter? We weren't afraid when the Dragonlords had dragons, let alone now. We have crossbows, we have assassins. Now that dragons have completely disappeared, we don't need to be so nervous. Perhaps it's just false information from The Citadel. You know, the false information released by those Maesters is countless," the Myrish visitor replied coldly.
"I hope you remember that when you killed a dragon in the Battle of the Gullet, it was under the command of our Lysene Admiral. And you Myrish, you only know how to tinker with crossbows; flies only hide in dark corners," the Lysene visitor snorted, mocking him.
"Fuck you, Lysene dog. I wonder if your mother is as skilled as those bed slaves in the Perfumed Gardens, serving me comfortably," the Myrish visitor immediately grew furious and cursed loudly.
The situation suddenly turned very bad. What was supposed to be the Dragon Slayer Brotherhood had now devolved into mutual insults between visitors from the three city-states of Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr.
During the Dance of the Dragons, the Kingdom of the Daughters also suffered heavy losses. Later, seeing that the dragons were mostly dead, they too began to quarrel and disintegrate, harboring animosity towards each other to this day.
"Silence!" "Silence!" The silver-robed visitor tapped the table and pulled a crossbow bolt from his embrace.
"This crossbow bolt was once bathed in dragon blood, from Prince Jacaerys, Queen Rhaenyra's son and heir to the iron throne. First, the young dragon Vormax was struck in the eye and fell into the sea, then the prince jumped off his dragon, grabbed a piece of wreckage, and was shot through the neck by a crossbow bolt. A poor boy, a poor dragon," the silver-masked visitor said, holding out the crossbow bolt as if showing off a great trophy.
Everyone recalled those scenes: war smoke on the sea, turbulent waters, the prince clutching the smoking wreckage of a ship, blood flowing like a stream, the prince and the dragon dying recklessly together.
"Do not forget, we are gathered for the same purpose: to exterminate dragons and, by the way, to exterminate the vicious Dragonseeds, to prevent the return of dragons, and to destroy everything we possess. Why should those Dragonseeds be superior just because there are dragons?" As the silver-masked visitor's words fell, everyone fell silent.
"That being said, we cannot act rashly because of a rumor from The Citadel," the Lysene visitor mumbled. "And you, leader, are mistaken in your direction. Our main goal back then was to slay dragons. Dragons are long gone, what is there to fear about that iron chair in King's Landing?"
"Yes, without dragons, the Dragonlords are nothing to fear. Aegon V burned himself to death just a few years ago, why should we bother ourselves?" The Myrish man echoed.
"But now the Dragonlord bloodline is at its weakest. With just the Tears of Lys, we can completely exterminate the Dragonseeds. The Dragonlords are not warriors, nor are they great schemers. If we act, now is the best opportunity, an opportunity even greater than during the Dance of the Dragons." The silver-robed visitor looked at the crossbow bolt's tip, his eyes glinting with cold light. The Dragonlord family is small in number; now is the time to act.
"My lord, I think you're mad! We won't rush into action just because of a Maester's mistaken judgment. If the operation fails, the Dragonlords will unleash a furious war. Then war will break out again." The others were startled; the plan was insane and extremely risky.
"As long as the legitimate Targaryen Dragonseeds are wiped out, dragons will not be revived. This is a permanent solution." The silver-robed man was still unwilling to give up and continued to rally his teammates.
"Why such a fuss? Your plan is also impossible. Dragonseeds are spread throughout the world. If you kill the Targaryens, there are still other Dragonseeds. Dragons have been gone for a hundred years and haven't revived; our brotherhood doesn't need to worry too much." The Braavosi visitor was the calmest, as they were the strongest.
"Now is the best time for us to act. Once the dragons multiply and encounter a surge of magic, giant dragons can quickly revive." The silver-robed visitor's attitude was the most rigid, yet he struggled to persuade the other members.
The Free Cities were still too loosely organized, with huge internal conflicts. Since power was not hereditary, there was no hereditary dynasty. The Sealord of Braavos, the Prince of Pentos, and the Archon of Lys were all elected successors, which only increased internal strife.
The Dragonlord family no longer had dragons to dance, and the brotherhood members were more concerned with internal power struggles than with confronting the Dragonlords. Many members believed that dragons were extinct and the brotherhood's mission was over.
"I think we should calm down and not be as superstitious as those conspirators in The Citadel. If a dragon truly appears, we can hire the Faceless Men to deal with it." The Braavosi visitor snorted, proud and defiant. What did the Sealord fear?
"Yes, the Targaryens still have the support of the people. If we truly move to destroy them, no matter who acts, Westeros will vent its anger on us."
"We just need to fan the flames. Dragonlords are born mad; it's better if we push them to lose popular support and destroy themselves."
After all was said and done, no one was willing to act against King's Landing, and the meeting ended in discord.
The silver-robed man looked at the group, and instead of anger, a smile formed in his heart. Still no profit. Without dragons, they all believed the Targaryens posed little threat, their might gone.
But what a good opportunity this was! The Dragonlord family numbered only six or seven people, weak and vulnerable. A few assassins, some poison, and success could be achieved.
But these good-for-nothings, their comfortable lives, fine wine, and beautiful women had crushed their bones.
Keep squabbling, then!
If you don't act today, you won't act tomorrow. Once dragons return, you'll die more miserably than anyone.
Since none of you are willing to do it, what do I have to fear alone?