~~~Third Person, Eleventh Moon, 277 AC~~~
"Who would believe that someone was making trouble for you, that's something new, Azrael Jaesyrian," Brynden commented softly, somewhat odd considering his husky voice, "My people are capable of sweeping this damned continent if need be, however, I prefer a more... Peaceful method, so do as I asked."
Brynden sighed; "You really must improve your patience, did no one teach you how to be a king?" he asked, which made Azrael frown, he more than anything knew that no one had shown him the path to take once he awoke in the desert of Lhazar, and once there, the path he followed was a constant response to everything that had happened.
The taking of what is now known as the Imperishable Horde was just a stroke of luck having slain the Khal and his Blood Riders, the fall of Astapor was just the impetus of having a loyal city and army, and the expansion of Xandar afterward was the counter-response to the actions of the other slaver cities.
While Azrael had some guilt due to his impulse to want to have more, many times that was pushed by the actions of other people, and it had all led him to today. It was only the grace of any god that Xandar could be maintained by being controlled by fit people, otherwise, Xandar would have collapsed as soon as Azrael had put the last block of Bedrock on its walls.
"So no one guided you, that's why you made such foolish and drastic decisions," Brynden shook his head, unable to comprehend how Azrael had accomplished so much with so little, "Foolish and drastic decisions? I raised Xandar with my own hands, Xandar is what it is today because of me, so don't come here to belittle my effort, because I am capable of coming with Endoxes and burning your precious garden of dreams!" Azrael was angry, he had sweated, bled, and wearied himself building Xandar, for him, for his people, and hearing Brynden's words angered him to no end.
"You see, patience is what I'm talking about, Azrael, I'm not saying your work has been bad, no, not at all, my ancestors, and those to come could and should learn several things from you, however, you have much to learn, being so connected to a culture as the Dothraki culture is, you have bent on solving almost everything most abruptly, without measuring consequences."
Azrael had calmed down a bit, assimilating the words of Brynden, who at this point seemed like a wise scholar explaining how the universe worked to a pupil, "although you tell yourself many times that it is not so, you have fallen in love with the life of a warrior, battles, war, death, that is something very complicated for a person to cope with, especially for someone who with a single order, can move armies without pause."
"In Vaes Dothrak, you could have used that gift, and placed submissive people", such words put Azrael on alert, who involuntarily put his right hand on his hip, looking for his sword, but remembered that he didn't bring it with him, "how do you know that?" Azrael asked, in a more than cold and merciless tone.
"Hahaha, they don't call me Thousand Eyes and One for nothing, Azrael Jaesyrian, while my sight in Essos is fleeting and milky, it doesn't mean I can't see but don't worry, your secret is safe with me, unless until the dead come, but that's many years away," Brynden said nonchalantly as if being able to spy on people was a day-to-day thing.
"As I was saying," Brynden changed the subject, returning to what he hoped Azrael understood, "your performance in Vaes Dothrak was chaotic, you knew you had another choice of action, but you decided to burn them all, in Carcosa with the City of the Winged Men, you could well have only provided food and water, but your thirst for battle would not allow it, and you decided to embark on a fight that almost ended with Valka's death, see what I'm getting at?"
Azrael looked Brynden in the eyes, his lips pursed, "You have turned out to be a good man Azrael, that is not often seen in this world anymore, your people love you, not because you are the son of someone they never knew, but because of what you have given them, and that has caused you to have what they give you today, their unconditional loyalty, their love of death if it means the fulfillment of their duty to you, and that is something commendable, enviable even, and it is that very thing, which has caused you to be filled with such power, causing chaos, and tears wherever you go."
"I'm not done yet," Brynden said politely, seeing as Azrael was about to speak, "you might even have gotten what you wanted by dipping the Starks with gold which they could never spend, but I come back to the same thing, it is so much the submergence of Dothraki culture in you, that you preferred to see a desperate father and a dying son, not knowing if it would cause you trouble later, not knowing if it would make them hate you, if from them knowing your plot, they would disown you."
"You have much to learn Azrael, as a man, as a king, even as a future husband, and if you do not, you will bring Xandar to ruin yourself."
Azrael stood for several seconds without saying anything, until he sighed and looked up, gazing intently at Brynden's expressionless face, "And what do you expect me to do, make you my advisor? Because that seems to be what you're proposing."
"Hahaha, you haven't learned have you?" Brynden looked at Azrael intently, and while Azrael had no emotion on his face, he well seemed to be looking at him like he was looking at a fool, "My arms and legs are nailed to this tree, this is my prison, there is no way to separate me from it, I just showed you where you are failing, it's up to you now if you take my advice."
"Hahahahaha," leaving Brynden uncomprehending, Azrael began to laugh, 'for someone who claims to see everything, still blind in many ways,' Azrael said, and this time it was Brynden's turn to be confused, "the Xandarian potions work wonders, I would simply have to tear off your limbs and with one... No, two potions to be more certain, your body will be as good as new, better even."
Brynden, for the first time, showed an expression, of longing, as his gaze looked lost, weighing the options, "what do you want in return?" Brynden asked, more than anything knew that nothing was free in this world, least of all if a favor as great as this was to be given.
Azrael smiled, "Serve me, be my advisor, my Minister of Whispers, help me keep Xandar and all that belongs to it safe from unscrupulous hands, and you shall have all that you want, yes you see it all, well you will know that I always keep my word." Azrael knew the great power that Brynden, or The Three-Eyed Raven commanded, and to have someone like that as an ally was more than perfect.
"All right," Brynden said after minutes of being silent, accepting Azrael's proposal, "but I'll only go with you, after you've done what we agreed," referring to saving all those souls from the clutches of the Corpse Lady and her army of the dead.
"Take it for granted, start rounding them up, I'll get the Xandarian Royal Fleet itself there in two weeks, if necessary," Azrael said unceremoniously, for him, such a task was simple, and the idea of having over a million men and women well-trained in the art of survival appealed to him, not to mention the Giants and the Children of the Forest.
Brynden nodded, turning his head to one part in particular. Then, as a small silhouette walked off, he nodded, "It's done. Leaf will start rounding up as many giants, Free People, and animals as possible. The sooner they are out of this frozen hell, the better it will be for the world, as for your request."
"Currently a convoy of carriages and carts filled with over three million gold coins stolen from your bank is headed for Dorne, they are passing through the Royal Forest, there are a total of eight Faceless Men, the rest are simple guards who don't know what they are carrying, besides, there are several hideouts all over Westeros and the Free Cities, such looks like getting rid of them will be difficult for you."
Azrael hardened his face, "I'm not looking to get rid of all of them now, I'm just looking to get mine back, and kill the one who murdered one of our own." Azrael commented, anger bubbling under his skin.
"Then we are thus left, Azrael Jaesyrian, it has been a pleasure to meet you," without another word, Brynden rolled his eyes, and Azrael's vision darkened, and when he came to his senses, he felt his eyes were closed.
When he opened them, he saw that he was back in front of the weirwood in the Red Keep. Looking up, he noticed that the raven was gone. Removing his palm from the trunk of the weirwood, he groaned a little, as his arm felt numb. "My Khal, are you alright?" Onno asked, somewhat concerned.
"Yes, I'm fine, come on, there's work to do," Azrael said, stretching his body a bit, then starting to walk inside the Red Keep, wanting to talk to Aerys as soon as possible.
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