As he moved, the scrape of his battered armor sounded especially clear in the silent fissure, where the only other sounds were the crackle of torches and the mercenaries' heavy breathing.
He was slightly taller than Carl. Now, standing straight, he looked directly into her face with a scrutinizing, almost cruel composure.
Carl instinctively straightened her back, as though awaiting judgment.
"Carl," Aegon began. His voice was quiet, yet it cut through the background noise like the ringing of cold jade.
"There are many things I hate."
"These damned Valyrian Ruins, for one."
"And those uncouth Ironborn who do nothing but burn, kill, and plunder wherever they go, reeking of salt and fish."
Aegon leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing straight into Carl's eyes. "But what I hate even more is betrayal."
"It's like the poisonous fumes here. It eats away at everything from within, bringing down the strongest castles and turning the bravest vows into a joke."
There was no heated emotion in his words, only cold, calm certainty.
That was more chilling than a roar.
"You said you wanted to sell me your life," Aegon continued, never shifting his gaze. "Very well. But anything I accept comes under my rules."
"If you choose to swear allegiance to me, you'll no longer be a hired mercenary."
"We'll be voyagers aboard the same ship. When the storm comes, we either reach the far shore together or end up in the bellies of fish together."
"There's no jumping ship halfway. Do you understand?"
Carl swallowed and nodded firmly, her voice dry. "Understood, boss."
"Good." Aegon's voice was decisive. "I accept your life."
"Remember what was said today."
Aegon pressed his hand firmly onto Carl's shoulder, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
"You won't regret your choice."
With that, Aegon motioned for Carl to rest off to one side and conserve her strength for the journey ahead.
He sat down again himself.
On the surface, Aegon remained unruffled, but only he could feel how hard his heart was pounding in his chest.
This felt entirely different!
The mercenaries behind him were a rabble who had temporarily gathered beneath his banner out of fear of the ruins' dangers and the Ironborn's blades.
Once there was nothing left to gain, they would scatter. Once the danger passed, they would all flee.
But Carl was different. She was the first person to grasp the situation and willingly place her fate in his hands.
This was not forced dependence, but a deliberate pledge of allegiance.
It meant that he, Aegon Targaryen-
After fifteen years of wandering, finally had a true foundation of his own.
However insignificant that foundation might be, even if it was only a slippery mercenary.
This was still his breakthrough from nothing to something, the beginning of rebuilding everything.
Henry returned after passing the message to the mercenaries and Ironborn farther back.
Seeing that something seemed to have fundamentally changed between the two, with an added air of "respect" he had once seen around the knightly lords back home, he scratched his head in puzzlement but asked no questions.
He found a spot near Aegon, set his hammer down with a thud, and began to rest.
Their rest did not last long. In the oppressive silence, it was difficult to judge the passage of time.
Perhaps only an hour had passed. Perhaps longer.
At last, Aegon rose first and brushed the dust off his armor.
"Let's go."
The party moved on in silence once more.
The bones beneath their feet grew sparse, and the passage began to slope upward.
Finally, at the farthest reach of the torchlight, that seemingly eternal darkness fell away.
A sight of indescribable grandeur burst into everyone's view.
They stood at the mouth of the fissure as though on the edge of a colossal beast's ribs, looking down upon the remains of impossibly vast, towering buildings enclosed by black mountains.
Ruined buildings lay scattered like the toys of some giant god. Even in ruins, their scale far exceeded any city mortal hands could have built.
Every building was black, stretching as far as the eye could see.
Broken stone bridges spanned the canyons, and deep at the bottom of those abyssal gorges, they could dimly make out churning lava.
Twisted towers had snapped in the middle, yet still soared into the sky. Platforms jutting from their adjoining towers were broad enough for dragons to land on.
No, perhaps they had been intended for dragonriders returning on their mounts all along.
Every line of the architecture exuded an extraordinary arrogance and nobility.
Even in decay, it was clear how magnificent and majestic it had once been.
An indescribable weight, born of the burden of ages and the utter silence of a dead civilization, made everyone hold their breath.
Before these ruined buildings, they were less than ants, mere specks of dust that had accidentally wandered into the tomb of a god.
Even the sulfurous stench of decay washing over them could not shake them free of the overwhelming spectacle.
"Lord of Light above, have I... have I entered your divine realm?" one mercenary murmured, stunned by the sight.
Judging by his clothing and the faith he professed, he was probably from the Red Temple in Volantis.
Aegon, however, knew that this was no divine realm of the Lord of Light. Every building here had been fashioned from dragonstone.
Nor did their architectural style bear any resemblance to the Red Temple. The walls wound like dragons' spines, covered in black tiles like dragon scales that gleamed coldly in the firelight.
The torch stands were stone carvings shaped like dragon claws, while dragon-headed drainage spouts seemed to roar in silence.
Everything had been built around the motif of dragons.
This was probably the site of a former complex of the Valyrian Freehold.
Just as Aegon and the others were absorbed in the spectacle, a jumble of footsteps and clanking armor came from the fissure behind them.
Crow's Eye emerged with his Ironborn, followed by Corlyon, who was surrounded by guards.
Crow's Eye narrowed his single eye and swept a sinister gaze over the surroundings. His previous visits had hardly been this "peaceful." His blue-stained fingernails rubbed unconsciously against the hilt at his waist.
"Euron," came a hoarse voice. It belonged to the Ironborn missing an ear, his tone full of the flattery of a man who had survived a disaster. "These sheep from the Green Lands really have been blessed by the Drowned God."
He smacked his lips as though savoring something.
"The last two times we waded into these salty waters, the Drowned God's invitations weren't nearly so gentle."
"So many brothers were invited to the Watery Halls to drink eternal mead..." As he spoke, he touched the bare spot where his ear had been, still shaken by the memory.
"This time, we sent these landlubbers ahead to scout the reefs for our ship, and somehow it's been smooth sailing."
"If you ask me, the Drowned God must have put aside his anger and taken a liking to us again."
"Euron, you were a little disrespectful to the Drowned God before, but we're still his own sons, raised on salt water. Surely he can't hold a grudge against us forever?"
Crow's Eye stopped and slowly turned sideways. In the dim light, his single eye shone with the murky sheen of a dead fish. His blue-purple lips parted, releasing a low, oily voice. "It seems I was wrong."
Delight spread over the one-eared Ironborn's face. He thought he had struck a chord with Crow's Eye. "That's what I was saying. We Ironborn-"
"My mistake," Crow's Eye interrupted in a terrifyingly gentle voice, "was not cutting out your tongue while we were still aboard the ship."
"What..." The one-eared Ironborn's smile froze.
Crow's Eye did not even need to wave a hand. A mere glance sent two trusted Ironborn forward to seize the one-eared man, one on either side.
"No, you can't!" Only then did the one-eared Ironborn understand. He struggled in terror. "I followed you from the Iron Islands! I abandoned my salt wife and salt concubines for you! You can't do this to me!"
A faint stir ran through the Ironborn. Someone hiding at the back deliberately lowered his voice and called, "That's right, Crow's Eye. We're all brothers here. Don't turn your own brothers against you."
Those words were like a spark falling into a barrel of liquor.
Crow's Eye's gaze, merely cold a moment before, suddenly blazed with sick, excited fire.
"Wait." He waved his men to a halt.
The one-eared Ironborn had just breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he saw Crow's Eye leisurely draw a boat hook stained with rust and dried blood from the belt of an Ironborn beside him.
The hook gleamed coldly in the torchlight.
"You're right... we're brothers." Crow's Eye murmured as he stepped forward. "So I'll use another method... to teach you when to shut that filthy mouth."
Before he had finished speaking, Crow's Eye drove the iron hook into the one-eared Ironborn's belly before everyone's eyes and ripped downward! The movement was as practiced as gutting a fish.
A piercing, inhuman scream tore through the silence of the ruins.
Before you continue