A song of Fire and Blood

Chapter 21: The Gold and the Egg

The smell of smoke and death lingered on the battlefield as the survivors of the Dragon Company gathered around their leaders in the aftermath of the battle. The roar of victory was still ringing in their ears, but the true cost of it all had only just begun to sink in. The Dragon Company had won, but at a terrible price.

Aerion Targaryen stood at the center of the camp, surrounded by his commanders and the few survivors who had fought by his side. The battlefield was scattered with the dead, the fallen soldiers of the Dragon Company, as well as the remnants of Volantene forces.

There were 21,383 men who had fought that day for the Dragon Company. Of those, only 14,478 had survived, and many were injured. Aerion's heart weighed heavy as he surveyed the wounded, his thoughts drifting to his fallen friends, Thoros, Clement, Monford, and the rest. Though the worst of the fighting had taken the lives of the Ghiscary slaves who had joined their ranks, the Valyrians, the original fighters of the Lost Legion, had borne the brunt of the battle and fared far better.

The Ghiscary slaves, who had once been freed by the Dragon Company from the slave markets of Slaver's Bay, had taken the worst casualties. They were unfamiliar with the type of warfare Aerion and his commanders had trained for. Many had never fought in such brutal, close-quarters combat. In contrast, the Valyrians—those who had been in the company since its founding, seasoned in battle and strategy—had held the line far more effectively. They were the ones who survived the worst of it. Despite the losses, the Valyrians were the backbone of the company and remained resolute.

"How many did we lose?" Naeron Qoherys, commander of the Dragon Company, asked quietly. His face was grim, and his voice held the weariness of a man who had seen too much death.

Aerion's gaze turned to the battlefield, where their dead comrades lay, lifeless and forgotten by the sands of war. "Too many." He could feel the ache in his chest as he thought of the men who had fought so fiercely beside him. They had been his brothers, his soldiers, and now they were gone.

Despite their victory, Volantene losses had been catastrophic. Most of their army had been decimated. The sellswords—the Stormcrows, the Second Sons, and the Company of the Cat—had fled after the fall of their leaders, leaving their soldiers vulnerable to the fury of the Dragon Company. The Volantene soldiers had fought mostly to the bitter end, and those who survived were captured and taken prisoner.

Aerion had made the decision not to siege Volantis, despite the appearance that they might. The Dragon Company had won their victory, but they had no interest in staying any longer than necessary. They had already accomplished what they set out to do. The Triarch—Malaqo Maegyr—had been shown the power of the Dragon Company. The remaining Volantene soldiers would be sold back into freedom, as they had no more value to Aerion and his forces.

The Dragon Company had taken all the money Volantis had paid the sellswords, stealing back what was theirs when their camp had been destroyed. The plundered gold and coins were now part of the Dragon Company's treasury, but it was time to consider what came next.

As the war drums died down and the final remains of the battle were dealt with, Aerion and his commanders gathered at the walls of Volantis, preparing to meet with Malaqo Maegyr, the Triarch of Volantis. It was here that the true test of Aerion's authority would be decided—whether to take the city or let it go for the price of a few golden honors.

The camp was quiet as Aerion and his commanders mounted their horses, accompanied by their personal guards. The rest of the Dragon Company remained behind, tending to their wounds and organizing the captives. Aerion's mind was focused on the meeting ahead.

Standing before the great Volantene gates, they saw Malaqo Maegyr and his retinue waiting. Aerion, determined to get the best deal for his men and his forces, wore a mask of confidence.

Malaqo, though clearly apprehensive, stepped forward. "Your victory is impressive, Prince Aerion." His voice was smooth, almost condescending, but the nervousness was evident in his eyes.

Aerion did not respond immediately. His blood-red eyes studied the man, calculating his every move. His voice was calm but firm. "I've come to discuss terms, Triarch."

Malaqo offered a gracious smile. "Of course. Let us speak."

Aerion's eyes glinted as he stepped forward, his voice steady. "I've heard rumors, Triarch." His words cut through the air, his confidence unnerving the Volantene lord. "The Golden Company is near Myr. The sellswords have not responded to Volantis' offer to eliminate the Dragon Company. And there's a rumor that the Golden Company now serves a dragon again."

The mention of the Golden Company, with its army of exiled soldiers and ambitious commanders, caused Malaqo to falter for just a moment. His face paled at the mention of the Golden Company, but he quickly recovered.

"The Golden Company?" Malaqo asked, a touch of uncertainty in his voice. "What is it you seek, then?"

Aerion smiled, a small and predatory grin that revealed his mastery of the situation. "I will take your city, Triarch." His voice was low, but every word carried weight. "If you do not offer me something more substantial than gold."

Malaqo swallowed, and his face betrayed the tension in his thoughts. The idea of facing the Golden Company alongside the Dragon Company was a reality he could not ignore. He had already lost too much. His eyes darted to his guards, and then back to Aerion. "What do you want, then?"

Aerion let the silence stretch out before answering. "You will pay me off. I will leave Volantis in peace. You will give me 24 million honors."

Malaqo's face twitched. The sum was substantial, but it was not much compared to the wealth of Volantis. 24 million was a drop in the ocean, but Aerion had not yet finished.

With a flick of his wrist, Malaqo Maegyr gestured to his assistant, who brought forth a crimson egg, shimmering in the sunlight, covered in volcanic scales that gleamed like fresh blood. It was a beautiful sight, the likes of which Aerion had not seen before. It seemed almost to pulse with a life of its own.

"This is no ordinary treasure, Prince Aerion," Malaqo said, his voice rich with pride. "This egg was laid by Meleys and Caraxes, the dragons of old. It was sold to me by the Sea Snake himself."

Aerion's heart skipped a beat. He felt an overwhelming desire to possess the egg. It was as if the very future of his house, of his dynasty, had been placed in his hands.

Malaqo continued, "Corlys Velaryon, in his ambition, sought to make his house wealthier in the aftermath of the Stepstone Crisis. He sold this egg to my grand-grandfather, and now I offer it to you in exchange for your mercy."

Aerion reached out, his hand trembling as he touched the egg. His eyes gleamed with greed and desire. Without hesitation, he nodded. "I accept your offer, Triarch."

Over the next few days, the wagons filled with golden honors rolled into the Dragon Company's camp. As the gold piled up, Aerion did not feel the satisfaction of wealth that many would expect. Instead, his mind was consumed by the dragon egg. It was as if the very future of his house, of his dynasty, had been placed in his hands.

Yet, in an act of goodwill—or perhaps a moment of rare mercy—Aerion ordered the 347 prisoners to be set free.

When Clement asked, his voice full of confusion, "Why free them, Aerion? They fought against us. They would've killed us if they could."

Aerion looked at him, his voice soft but resolute. "Somewhere, someone has to tell the story of what happened today." He glanced at the men as they were led away. "Not all of them are enemies. Some of them need to speak the truth of what they saw."

As the prisoners left, Aerion stood, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had won, but the cost had been high. The battle was over, but the war was just beginning.