The Magnificent. That was the name held by Lysandro Rogare, head of the Rogare Bank, the only rival to the mighty Iron Bank of Braavos. Late in his rule Lysandro came to care for a young Prince thought long dead by the Iron Throne, but rather than announce this to the world he kept Viserys Targaryen as a ward and raised him among his own children. Viserys was eventually wed to the family's eldest daughter Larra Rogare, despite her being nine years his senior. It was a happy union.
During the early reign of Viserys's older brother, King Aegon III, it became known in Westeros that Viserys had survived. It was not long after that Alyn Velaryon came to 'ransom' the Prince away from Lys. Not one to ignore the opportunity for profit, Lysandro accepted the kingly sum, sending the Prince home with his wife and brother-in-laws.
King's Landing was the city of his ancestors. Lysandro would often tell him tales of the great city forged with fire and blood, a bastion of greatness, a city of dragon kings. Now that he had finally seen it with his own eyes for the first time since he was a mere babe Viserys knew the tales to be nothing but sweetness told to a child. It smelled foul, trying to avoid breathing through his noise, the young dragon made his way down the ramp off the ship and onto the pier. The smell did not improve as he walked to the docks and onward to the cobbled streets. "My brother knows I'm coming," Viserys paused, direction the question to the man beside him. "doesn't he?"
Alyn Velaryon looked at the young prince and offered a false smile. "I'm sure His Grace is merely running late."
"Late?" Lysaro Rogare, heir to Lys, spoke with a snarl. "He should be here to greet us."
The youngest Rogare, Moredo, smirked as he began casually holding his sisters hand to calm her nerves. "He's the king, brother."
"And I'm heir to-"
"Enough!" Velaryon spat. "His Grace will see us soon enough."
As the man spoke, sure enough a guard of some fifty men in gold cloaks came storming down the cobbled alley ahead of them. At the head of the group were three knights in shiny white armor with white cloaks to match. "The Kingsguard." Moredo spoke aloud, attempting to calm his sister by answering any questions she may have before she could even think to ask them. "They protect the king and-"
Larra smiled, her purple eyes of old Valyria sparkling. "I know what they are brother."
Moredo offered a smile in return, nodding at Viserys whom was grinning at the conversation taking place between the two siblings. "The great Sword of Lys silenced by his sister, once again." The Prince mocked with his usual charm. He and Moredo were practically brothers, having grown up toward at the Rogare family palace.
"Prince Viserys." The lead Kingsguard spoke, bowing his head respectfully to the well built young man dressed in a fine black doublet with silver trim, a single steel pauldron on his sword arm and a dark silk cloak that matched his doublet. One could hardly blame the kingsguard was mistaking the man as royalty. "If you'll follow me to-"
"My name is Moredo," The man replied with a smirk. "your Prince stands beside me."
The Kingsguard went wide-eyed at that, darting his vision between the men. Viserys was far leaner than Moredo, clean-shaven with long hair and a charming yet calculating look to him. "Apologies, my Prince." The Kingsguard regained his composure. "We were honestly not expecting... others... to be accompanying you."
Viserys waved off the apology. "No harm done, Ser?"
"Marston," The knight bowed. "Marston Waters."
"And your brothers?" Viserys asked, motioning to his fellow Kingsguard.
"This is Ser Joffrey Staunton," The knight bowed. "and Ser Mervyn Flowers."
"A pleasure." Viserys smiled. "Since you introduced your brothers," He paused, placing a friendly hand on Moredo's shoulder. "allow me to return the gesture. This is Moredo Rogare and the fellow scowling because I'm introducing him second, is his brother Lysaro Rogare, Heir to Lys and the Rogare Bank.""
"I do not scowl." Lysaro scowled.
Viserys continued, smirking wider than before. "And last but certainly not least is-"
"Larra Targaryen," Larra offered her most charming smile. "formally Larra Rogare."
"My wife." Viserys explained, placing a protective arm around Larra.
"W- wife?" Ser Marston stuttered, looking to his fellow whitecloaks as if to say 'did you know about this?' only for the confusion to be shared. "We did not know that-"
Again, Viserys waved away an apology. "No fault of yours Ser, I wished it to be a surprise for my brother."
A grin threatened to brake on Marston's face. "His Grace will be overjoyed, no doubt. If you'll follow us my Prince?"
Viserys gave a nod, taking his wife by the hand as her brothers followed closely behind. Ser Marston did not fail to notice Moredo's hand laid resting vigilantly over the pommel of his sword, Truth, the grip wrapped in dark leather with an engraved silver guard and the pommel itself boasting a large flawless diamond. The fuller was a light grey with the blade itself being as pale as milkglass, ripples flowing down it. The ancestral blade of the Rogare family was a the envy of all families, save perhaps the Targaryens.
"Watch where your going!" A stranger pushed past another in the street, but the prince was far too busy taking in the sights to take notice.
"Fish!" One merchant was yelling, displaying his catch for the hungry peasants. His cry was joined by the other merchants each trying to out shout the other, each trying harder in turn. "Your breads stale as your mothers arse!" The fish merchant taunted crudely at another behind a stall displaying bread. The bread merchant processed to offer insults in kind as the Kingsguard's group moved on, not wanting to be apart of whatever came next. The smallfolk knew they had more pressing concerns than the squabbles of the lowborn, so they all but ignored the armored group. Was all of Westeros like this? Moredo dreaded the thought, finding that he already missed Lys.
Leaving the lower town the young merchant princes eyes drifted upward. "The Red Keep." He muttered aloud to the wind and anyone close enough to overhear him, the sudden outburst of the obvious earned him a puzzled look from a passerby. The red castle stood out like a beacon, only the Great Sept of Baelor it's rival, hanging over the dirty streets. No wonder the city seems to neglected, with it's lords sitting high and pretty behind stone walls. Moredo pushed onward, keeping close to his sister at all times.
A year passed in the red keep and Moredo found himself agreeing with his sister on many things, this was a city of ambitious vipers out to use anything and everything against their family. The birth of little Aegon, Moredo's nephew, brought his sister joy for a time... until it became clear that the boy was seen as nothing but a pawn in the 'game' the lords of Westeros played. Larra Rogare hated King's Landing, and Moredo hated it in turn. Viserys tried everything to make her feel welcome... but what happened next brought her hatred of Westeros to new highs. Nobody threatens House Rogare and gets away with it, or so they claimed, the family was proud if nothing else.
"Moredo Rogare!" The voice echoed down the hallway of the red keep, bringing an amused grin to Moredo's face as he turned to face the voice.
"Can I help you?" He said with the grin on his lips, hand resting on the diamond pommel of Truth.
"By order of the Hand of the King," The gold cloak began. "you are to submit and be escorted to the black cells."
Moredo laughed. "Is that so?"
"Come peacefully or we'll be forced to-"
The speaker slumped to the floor with a thud, a dagger between his eyes.
"You want my blood?" Moredo taunted, drawing Truth from it's scabbard in one fluid motion. "Come then, dogs!"
A quick glace at their fallen commander was all it took to goad the goldcloaks into attacking, into the jaws of Truth. Moredo swung the sword in an arch as his foe approached, cutting his castle-forged steel asunder and processing to open the wielders throat with a backwing. Stepping forward Moredo parried another blow, countering and driving Truth into another foes stomach with a single thrust. Moredo pushed the skewered man forward, letting his weight do the work as Truth slipped free and continued to rend.
"Pitiful!" Moredo growled, an overhead arch slicing through another goldcloaks skull like a hot knight through butter.
"Your surrounded!" A goldcloak shouted, the fear evident in his voice as he eyed the numerous bodies of his fallen brothers-at-arms.
Moredo took the momentary pause to catch his breath and wipe Truth clean of the thick layer of crimson, not that it helped, his attire was coated in dark blacks and reds as he stood among the dead and blood splattered walls. No blade had touched him, yet, but he knew he'd only be able to keep this up for so long. "Am I?" He smirked.
More goldcloaks arrived to fill the adjacent side of the corridor, now he was well and truly surrounded. He muttered some words silently to himself.
"Surrender!" The goldcloak commanded, the newest arrivals wide-eyed at the sight of the crimson coated knight.
Moredo raised his heads up as he finished his mutterings, "for the night is dark and full of terrors." With one swift motion of his hand running lightly along Truth's edge the blade gave birth to flames that continued to dance around the steel, seemingly fed by nothing but the mans blood. Moredo picked up a second sword from one of the fallen goldcloaks and swung the blade to test it's balance. He stood silently, blades resting at either side, daring his enemies to face him.
The goldcloaks advanced from both sides, halting a few feat from the crimson stained knight.
*Thud*
A crossbow bolt stuck Moredo's thigh, causing him to grunt in pain and lock eyes with the crossbowman.
"Arrrggg!" Moredo charged, ignoring his surroundings as he charged at the bastard. He crashed into the wall of goldcloaks like a wave against rocks, knocking over those closest, swinging both blades in an arch and cutting into whatever flesh happened to get between him and his target. He made short work of the crossbowman, severing the mans head from his shoulders with one swing of Truth. Reality kicked in afterwards, numb from the many cuts he'd gained, Moredo collapsed and the darkness consumed him.
"Welcome back to the land of the living." A familiar voice muttered, coated in a bitter sarcasm.
Moredo blinked as the world returned to focus, finding himself in a dark damp stone room. "Where are we?" He croaked, looking towards the voice and confirming the owner as his brother, a snarl on his lips, slumped up against the stone wall of their shared cell. "The bastards attacked me..."
"Took them with you I hope?" Lysaro attempted a hollow smile, revealing a few missing teeth. No doubt his proud mouth got him less than civil treatment.
"Did you expect anything less?" Moredo replied, straightening himself up against the wall.
"No." Lysaro's grin turned more honest, before vanishing altogether. "They took Truth."
Moredo cursed at the realization, although what was he expecting? Prisoners rarely got to keep weapons.
"Larra-"
"-is fine." Lysaro assued his brother. "I overheard the guards. Viserys and the king refuse to give her up."
"Good." Moredo sighed in relief. At his sister was safe. "How long have-"
"Two days," Lysaro raised an eyebrow, uncertain. "or has it been three?"
The two brothers spent days locked up while the king and Prince Viserys were besieged in Maegor's Holdfast, before Ser Marston finally remembered his duty and found his way to their cell beneath the Red Keep. They heard him coming down the damp hallway and Moredo moved to shield his brother, whom remained slumped against the wall.
"Come to finish the job, Waters?" Moredo growled, standing side-faced ready to defend himself as best he could without any steel.
Marston unlocked the door to the cell and let it swing open. "I've come to do my duty."
"To who?" Moredo asked, curious. "Your king, or to yourself?"
Waters eyes darted to the floor for a moment.
"My sword." Moredo spoke, noting the shame in the mans eyes. He was not here to kill them, it seemed.
The fact was confirm the moment Waters placed Truth back in Moredo's hands, the blade had been cleaned and placed back in it's scabbard. "God knows what those traitors had planned for you." Moredo though, most likely they'd have melted it down to be reforged. He put the thought aside and looked at Waters. "Where is my sister?"
Waters lead the two brothers to the Red Keep and fulfilled his king's command to arrest those who implicated Lord Rowan and the Rogares falsely. Marston was later killed trying to apprehend Ser Mervyn Flowers, who was apart of the lies. Months passed since the Rogare's were falsely accused and subsequently released. The regency of Aegon III Targaryen ended on the day of his sixteenth name day, when the king entered the small council chambers with his brother and the Rogares to dismiss all of the regents and the latest Hand. Thus ended the corrupt council of regents. Moredo rarely left his sisters side after the incident, seeing enemies in every corner of the foul city.
"They butchered my brother," Moredo growled, knelt at the foot of the Iron Throne pleading with the king for aid. "ripped the flesh from his bones with bloody whips for imagined grievances. Liars and traitors to the last!" Dark wings dark words, the lords of Westeros often said, only now did Moredo understanding the meaning of it. His brother had returned to Lys to claim his birthright in light of their fathers untimely death, only for Lysaro to be taken captive and scourged at the Temple of Trade.
"I cannot start a war with the free cities." King Aegon spoke from atop the throne, high above those gathered in the hall. All four of them... he'd kept the room empty.
"You'll do nothing?!" Moredo spat, standing in that instant. "He was your-"
"I did not say that." Aegon interrupted, shooting warning look before giving a subtle nod to his brother.
"Your uncle was Prince Consort to Princess Aliandra."
"You know he was, Viserys." Moredo snarled. "His sudden death so close to my fathers is no bloody coincidence either..."
"It seems you and Aliandra think alike." Aegon leant forward. "Show him, brother."
Viserys stepped forward, holding out a letter to his brother-in-law.
Moredo noted the broken orange wax. "You broke the seal?"
"One can never be too careful with the dornish."
"Poison." Moredo muttered, reading the letter from Princess Aliandra Martell. It sent her condolences for his loss and she claimed a shared desire for vengeance, stating that she knew poison better than most and knew beyond a doubt that her husband has been murdered. "Cravens..."
"This came with the letter," Viserys handed over a small copper clasp. "she claims men wait for you at Wyl to escort you to Sunspear."
"You cant be serious." Larra added her voice, glaring daggers at her husband. "Your sending him into dorne, uncle may have been close to the Martells and his children are cousins by blood but what's stopping them from using my brother for ransom to those bastards at Lys? The last Heir of Rogare would fetch a handsome bounty, no?"
Aegon agreed. "One million golden dragons, that was their last offer along with promise of future trade."
"Ha!" Moredo said sarcastically, muttering more cruses under his breath.
Larra was more vocal. "They seek to buy my brother with our own coin?!"
"You too, my love." Visery smiled sadly.
"Naturally," Aegon paused. "we told them to shove the gold someplace dark."
"I'll shove more than gold-" More muttered to himself as his sister continued talking.
"They'd have sent ravens to the minor houses."
"And that," Aegon smirked." is why he'll have an honor guard with him on the road to Wyl."
"And a Kingsguard." Viserys added. "Ser Joffrey Staunton will take a company of swords."
Moredo gave a nod as thanks. "They wont be welcome in Dorne."
Aegon knew that. "No, they wont."
"I'm coming with you." Larra stated Matter-of-factly.
"The hells you-"
Larra silenced the prince with a kiss.
"Larra." Viserys practically begged.
"He's right Larra," Moredo said, knowing it would be hopeless to convince her otherwise. "you should stay here. Aemon is barely a year old, he-"
"Aemon is stronger than his siblings," Larra explained with pride. "he'll be more than fine in my absence."
Moredo sighed. "There is no talking you out of this, I know."
Larra simply smiled at her brother, when Larra Rogare wanted her way she always got her way.
"Once you pass into Dorne I'm afraid your fate is in the hands of the Martells." Viserys spoke with no small hint of concern, he'd practically begged his brother to assist them both themselves, but Aegon made it clear that attacking Lys would be seen as an act of aggression by the rest of the free cities. House Targaryen could ill afford another war.
The moors and plains of the Dornish Marshes were behind them, ahead laid the Boneway, a major pass that ran through the Red Mountains connecting Dorne and the Stormlands. Officially the pass was named the 'Stone Way' but enough armies had perished trying to invade that.. well, one gets the idea. A great place for an ambush.
"This is where we leave you." The Kingsguard spoke from atop his white destrier.
"My thanks Ser Staunton." Moredo sat atop his own horse as the Kingsguard pulled on the reigns of his steed and galloped off with his fellow knights. Moredo stood alone now but for the handful of hedge knights and sellswords he'd recruited on the ride down from King's Landing. King Aegon had provided coin for sellswords, his way of helping without being seen to help. It was enough coin for a small company... nothing great... but it was certainly appreciated. A party of dornishmen approached from the horizon.
Moredo pushed his horse forward into a gallop to meet the dornishmen haft way, leaving his swords behind to watch the talks. Or to watch for the ambush...
"Ser Rogare?" The lead dornishman asked, atop his sand steed. Slimmer and swifter than Moredo's far heavier warhorse.
"Aye," Moredo replied, eyes darting up to the nearby mountainside looking for hidden archers. Or worse, crossbows. "and you are?"
"Ser Olyvar Yronwood." The young man spoke with pride. "the Princess bid us escort you to Sunspear. You were expected to be alone..."
"A pleasure, Ser Olyvar." Larra introduced herself with her usual sweet smile. "I am Larra Rogare."
"Larra Targaryen, last I heard." Yronwood replied. If it was an attempt to unsettle Larra, it did not work.
Moredo debated telling him that Aegon had bought him the sellswords, but thought better of making too much mention of the dragonlords. "No need to frighten the locals." He thought with a smirk, while they were at 'peace' all knew relations between the Kingdoms and Dorne were strained at best. "I hired some sellswords to aid us."
"Us, is it?" Olyvar returned a smirk of his own, moving his gaze away from Larra.
"I don't fear some kingdom blades." The man mounted beside Olyvar spoke, leaning forward in his saddle to get a closer look.
"As my friend here says," Olyvar kept his smirk. "your blades are welcome. If they try anything-"
"-you'll gut them like pigs." Moredo interrupted.
Olyvar replied with a simple, "Quite." Turning his steed around assuming Moredo would follow his lead. He did. These were dornish lands and frankly he'd learnt more than enough about these people from his uncle to know that they could either be great friends or great enemies. He hoped his cousins in Sunspear remembered him.
"It's good to see you too Ed." Moredo smiled, prying himself away from the hug his cousin attacked him with upon his arrival .
"Gods," Edric Martell paused. "how long has it been?"
Moredo was unsure in truth, he'd spent years in Dorne with his uncle when he was no more than ten and two. "Five years?" His time in Dorne was one of his fonder memoirs, training with every weapon he could get his hands on, alongside Edric, his mother had been a gracious host even then. Looking back at it she certainly didn't need to be.
Edric shrugged. "We'll leave the details to the maesters, but it's been too long."
"That it has." A sweet voice came from behind Edric.
"Princess." Moredo and Larra bowed, heads low, remembering their curtsies.
"No need for all that," Aliandra smiled. "we are family after all. I have somebody for you to meet actually my dears..."
A small child, barely five or six by Moredo's best guess, ran up to Edric and hid behind his leg. "My brother," Edric explained. "meet your cousins, Moredo and Larra Rogare."
"Father?" The child looked at Moredo with wide-eyes, tilting his head.
Moredo stared at the child, at a loss for words.
"No," Aliandra answered the boy, sadness evident in her voice. "this is-"
She couldn't finished before the littlest Martell fled the room, pushing past the armed guards at the door. "He's taking it hard," Edric explained with a sigh. "fathers loss has... it's not been easy keeping a straight face while knowing the truth of it all. We-" Edric had lowered his eyes, fighting back tears or so Moredo assumed. He was still young himself.
"We have kept my husbands murder a closely kept secret, for now." Aliandra's smile died, she was a beautiful women, Moredo remembered well but age and grief had taken it's toll. Despite all of that she was still one of the most beautiful women he'd laid eyes on. Her uncle was a lucky bastard, he himself had admitted the fact many times.
"Then they wont see us coming..."
"No." Aliandra's smile returned.
"Thank you for this," Moredo paused. "you didn't have to-"
"We are family." Edric grasps Moredo's shoulder with a smirk of his own. Lys would be ill prepared for the might of Dorne matched with Moredo's sellswords and the fury of House Rogare. In truth this would be the first real battle he'd experienced... he was terrified... but he would not show it. Lys was his by rights and there would be great changes upon his families return to power. No more greedy backstabbing magisters. No more division. Moredo would changed Lys itself, for the better, for House Rogare and her allies.
The merchant fleet of Lys had either fled or sunk to the depths of the sea, many failing to make it out of the docks before the might of the dornish fleet crashed into them like waves against rock; accompanied by a number of galleys from King's Landing that Moredo would need to thank his brother-in-law for later, officially the throne had taken no part but there was no evidence to link King Aegon to what would become known as the Rogare's Return. Moredo found himself on the docks, the battle not yet done.
"To the Prince!" Moredo rallied his men, drawing Truth out from the gut of a slave solider with one effortless motion.
"About time you showed up." Prince Edric smirked, a large ugly gash evidence across his forearm.
Moredo clasped his cousin on the shoulder quickly before Rogare and Martell joined forces for the final push into the city itself. Lys, like most of the so called Free Cities, did not have use of levies like the kingdoms of Westeros. In place of such they relied on sellswords and poorly trained (but numerous) slave armies, something Moredo would change.
The first row of slaver soldiers went limp as a volley of dornish arrows rained down, removing them from the battle before the battle had even begun. What followed was a slaughter as Moredo and his group dashed over the arrow-filled fallen and cut into the slaves already stunned by the loss of their fellows. "Rogare!" the men cheered as they pushed though the long winding alleys of Lys. "Rogare!", "Martell!", "Justice!". Victory it seems was all but achieved.
Moving up through the cobbled streets all but unopposed the Rogare Palace, a four story mansion with a lush garden and most importantly below the ground, the Rogare vaults. "Home." Moredo thought in silence, not failing to note that the ornate silver gate had been ripped down and the front doors to his family home torn down.
"How many?" Edric move dup beside him, sword bloodied and a smug grin on his lips.
"I counted five," one of the men that had followed Moredo since he departed the flagship answered for him. "perhaps more."
"It no matter," Moredo dismissed the notion. He'd come this far and every fool, no matter the number, that stood between him and his home would die. "the city is ours and the day won." These men were still camped in his home however, bickering among themselves by the sounds of things. "We'll make short work of the rats that remain..."
"Do we use a signal?" Edric asked innocently.
Moredo looked at his cousin and smiled. "I'll show you."
Slowly drawing Truth from it's scabbard he yelled "Truth and Glory!" as he walked casually towards the broken doors of his family home. Those inside rushed through the doorway to meet the aggressor and what they saw was a lone man with a silver sword that shun in the shining mid-day sun. They charged, odds seeming to be in favor.
Moredo side-stepped to dodge the first strike from the oncoming wave of fools, cutting through the shaft of a spear and then cutting the wielders throat with his back swing. Another cried out at the loss of his fellow slave, raising his sword high. Moredo grabbed the blade mid-swing with his plated gauntlet instantly followed by a swift lunge between the eyes, into and out the back of the mans skull. Tossing his kill aside like a ragdoll, Moredo gutted yet another of the slaver soldiers in quick succession before continuing onward, a beacon to those standing with Edric in awe of what they were witnessing. No man, yet alone an ill-trained slave, was a match for the Dragon of Lys. He looked at the scene around him as the remaining slaves were cut down in droves, his home was secured. All that remained was to raise up his family banner; in the past a mere golden chalice holding flame. After reclaiming his homeland Moredo took for himself the sigil of a two-headed ornate gold dragon breathing fire on a field of black. The dragon would first and foremost represent the Rogare valyrian heritage, the gold their wealth, the fire R'hllor, and finally the two heads for Truth and Glory.
In the years that followed the Bank of Rogare only grew in strength with reinforced trade between Lys and Westeros. Moredo 'the Dragon' Rogare would go on to marry his cousin Nymeria Martell in an effort to continue relations with Sunspear, fruitful efforts that would bind Dorne and Lys for generations to come. Lys became the only 'True' Free City of Essos, as the Rogare's would boast, while not free of slavery those slaves born in Lys were granted certain freedoms that angered the other slaver cities going as far as to name children born of Lys slaves as 'freeborn' that hold the same rights as any citizen, rather the the children of slaves being born into slavery. More often than not freeborn boys would inspire to become warriors or merchants while girls would aim to become traders and marry to improve their families standing. Over the years, the cities dependence on sellsword companies would diminish as the freeborn citizens of Lys began to outnumber the slaves. House Rogare encouraged this with the saying "we, valyrias children."
Lys enjoyed a golden age of peace, the other free cities not willing to anger the House of Rogare or it's powerful friends although more than once trade was ceased in an effort to weaken the Rogare bank. Those efforts failed all but completely, hurting the other Free Cities far more than it hurt Lys. This golden age lasted until the year 259 AC when the Band of Nine managed to sack and take Tyrosh before moving to seize the Stepstones. Suddenly, this lowly band became a threat, one that could no longer be ignored. |
Game of Thrones: Truth and Glory
Reply With Quote
