GOT : All Left Behind

"I don't see why you need me for this, Vaeg." My brother commented from the doorway of the smith's shop. Neater than the rest of the smithy, the front of the smithy was used for fittings and to display some of the finer pieces made by the hammer-wielding artisans. Right now, it was serving the former purpose.

"Your expert opinion, Baelon." I rolled my shoulders to test the range of motion afforded by the suit of armor. Good, smooth, effortless. Quality work. Not a surprise, really; This was the Street of Steel, after all. "You were a mystery knight at Old Oak, weren't you?"

"I was. At five and ten, with father and Aemon in attendance." He observed, drawing closer. "Will you need me to prepare a horse? Or have you informed father of your plan?"

"It is done, your Grace." The smith whispered, rising to his feet, and directing me to the looking glass that was propped against the wall of his shop. "I trust it is to your liking?"

"I will leave a note before leaving for Duskendale." I let a smile grace my features as I beheld my reflection. The armor was highly polished, if drab. A single cup was embossed upon the chest, but that was the only concession to ornament I had allowed myself. Simplicity would speak for itself. "And yes, Master Bryar, excellent work. The helmet?"

"Your Grace." The aging smith handed me a visored barbuta, almost archetypally chivalric, and I slid it on. Once again, a beautiful fit. A shame this was little more than a fancy decoy.

"How do I look?" I asked my brother, turning around to give him a better view. "Sufficiently mysterious?"

"A bit plain, but that will only accentuate what you do have." After a moment's appraisal, Baelon nodded. "What name will you be competing under? The Chalice Knight?"

"The Knight of Cups." I corrected, taking off the helmet as the smith directed one of his apprentices to help me out of my armor. I could hardly parade around one of the largest cities on the continent in my disguise before I needed it, could I? "Master Bryar, could you recommend a painter for the shield?"

"I've taken the liberty of having it arranged ahead of time, your Grace." The smith said, holding up a kite shield displaying a near-perfect copy of my temporary heraldry: A black cup on a gray field. Excellent.

"Thank you, Master Bryar." I nodded appreciatively, and the shield was propped up against the padded trunk slowly filling up with my new armor. "Any advice brother? How to best embody the mystery knight?"

"Play into the act." He said. "The lowborn will appreciate the spectacle, the knights your skill, and the lords the attention such a performance will bring. When I did it, Lord Oakheart boasted about having the Silver Fool at his tourney for a fortnight."

"And Lord Darklyn will no doubt try to use that to get into father's good graces." I hummed. No doubt the singers would spin tales about how the glories of Duskendale made it irresistible for a young prince to make his knightly debut before the moon turned.

If I competed. The thought elicited a smile.

"He is free to try." Baelon said, carefree. "Race you back to the Keep?"

"I will be carrying a lot of extra weight." I pointed out as the last pieces were piled into the chest and the lid was secured with a satisfying clunk. "And I would rather not run my horse lame before a tourney."

"Bah, spoilsport." Baelon said with a good-natured pat on the shoulder. "Need my help with anything else?"

"There was a tavern not too far from the River Gate that came highly recommended by a friend." I mentioned. "Unless you intend to neglect your pregnant wife in favor of drinking the day away, I will pay it a visit on my own."

"Don't be too long." Baelon warned. "You know Elysar will inform father if you come to your lessons reeking of drink."

"Have faith, brother." I paid the smith as we left, deliberately adding a few extra coins to the total. Extra effort deserved extra pay. It would also serve to keep the man from running his mouth. "Father is much too busy with his roads to worry about my escapades."

"I think he might make an exception when he learns how you financed this venture." Baelon said.

I flushed at the mention of my… bargain with the wife of the Master of Coin. Really, a single conversation with the noble lady after studying the ledgers of her husband's predecessor, a suggestion that his work was inefficient. I introduced her to the wonders of double-entry accounting, and suddenly my royal stipend was doubled.

Were I paranoid man, and were this a more intrigue-laden time, I might have worried about some of those facts being taken out of context. Luckily for me, Lord Tyrell and his wife were a publicly loving couple, so there was little fertile ground for rumors.

"He would hardly fault me for my enterprising spirit." I waved off his concerns, taking the saddle and setting off at a gentle trot. The streets were crowded, as was to be expected of the late morning of the realm's capital. Luckily, Baelon and I were clearly Targaryen, and our father was beloved by all. Crowds were rarely an issue. "So long as I steer clear of brothels."

"Aye." Baelon agreed. "How many inns do you own, anyhow?"

"A score." I replied easily as we navigated our way through a square filled to the brim with vendors and their stalls hocking their wares. Some of them were intriguing enough, I had to admit, and I may have spent a few more coppers than I had planned before we even made it halfway through the square. "Or near enough to make no difference. I suspect I will a few more to that number before the year is out."

"You frighten me, Vaeg." Baelon chuckled. "I'll leave you to your business; I am loath to leave Alyssa for too long. The babe…" He trailed off, his gaze turning to the massive fortification atop the Agon's Hill. Sporting far too many towers for my liking, the Red Keep was a blend of palatial luxury and stout fortification. A blend as palatable as a stout ale and a fine wine, in my humble opinion, but I had my own biases. "Well, I'd hate to miss the birth."

"Just investigating a potential acquisition. Some charity work as well, mayhaps, but no business." I said. "Go on ahead; I'll be there to greet my newest niece or nephew when the time comes."

Baelon only flashed a brotherly smile before galloping off. Not that I blamed him; He was an expecting father, after all. I, however, maintained my leisurely pace as I turned my horse towards the docks. I had a plan to execute, after all.

I did give a few coins to some of the beggars, though. Some light deception did not mean I had to lie to my favorite brother about everything, after all.

Only most things, I bitterly noted. Subterfuge and intrigue were hardly my forte. Was I competent at them? So long as I kept them far away from the rest of my life, yes.

Hence why I kept my ventures out of the keep, and all across the city.

They were inns, mostly, thanks to being reasonably easy to delegate, and always being in demand. I was going to diversify at some point, I promised myself, but that day never quite seemed to come. The inn I was heading to now, The Sea Drake, was near the docks. As was the case with all my establishments, it was clean, had good drinks, and had lots of beds available.

But, most importantly for my purposes, it had guards. Well, half a dozen reasonably disciplined men that I paid to keep violence out of my greatest money maker. Half a dozen well-paid men who had every incentive to ensure my horse and armor would remain safe and unmolested.

I was going to have to ask father to reform the city guard, I reminded myself. As it was, they were disorganized and poorly disciplined, but thankfully not too corrupt. Perhaps I'd ask to take care of those duties when I came of age… I could come up with something late.

"Boss." The man at the door said once he saw me, quickly abandoning his relaxed slouch. His hand slapped against the head of the cudgel nestled in his belt from the suddenness of the motion. "Here for an inspection?"

"Business." I answered quickly, carefully watching the man's reaction. Thankfully, he kept his posture. Any sign of relief and I might have been worried. "Any notables?"

"A knight stopped by no more'n an hour ago, Boss." He helpfully informed me. "Looks a bit like you. Should still be there, at the back table."

"Excellent." Stepping through the saloon doors that let the merriment spill into the streets, my eyes swept past most of its occupants. The bar was packed shoulder to shoulder with raucous sailors more concerned with swapping tales while the tables were occupied by clusters of those more concerned with their friends. No, as wonderful as it was to see my prime money-maker bustling this early in the day, that was not why I was there.

No, that was the man with the distinctly valyrian coloring and sea-green cloak sitting near the back chatting amiably with a clearly wealthy man. A captain or trader of some sort. While I would have hated to be on the receiving end of being interrupted while in the middle of what might have been a trade deal of some sort, this was more important.

To me.

And I was not afraid to pull rank.

"Corlys!" I had to nearly shout to be heard over the crowd that was far too engrossed in their drinks to care about decorum. Luckily, the heir to Driftmark spotted my approach. His current conversation partner shuffled away from the table as I took his place. At least they were aware of the social hierarchy. Or someone sober enough to recognize a prince. "I see you got my message."

"It was hard not to." He shrugged. "Your man was quite insistent. What did you need?"

"Passage to Dragonstone." I said. "Discrete passage. Tonight, ideally."

"Straight to the point, eh? You have a plan?" The man of four-and-twenty raised a disturbingly crisp eyebrow.

"Claim a dragon, bolster my family's glory, try not to die in the process." I explained, my own smile refusing to falter. Yes, I had a plan. A great plan. Several, really, some of which were already in motion.

Great plans that needed a dragon. And since the Dragonpit was heavily guarded, and I was feeling a touch impatient, that left Dragonstone. Which I could hardly visit regularly without my royal father being informed. Hence the smuggling.

"You make it sound so simple." Corlys muttered into his drink as he took a long sip.

"I am a Targaryen. It is second nature to me." I said with a boastful grin.

Best case, I helped save the hatcheries on Dragonstone. Worst case… I had two older brothers.

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 Don't forget to throw some power stones :)

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