By the time Ser Ralph Royce entered the Council Chamber, the composure he had shown when first captured was long gone.
His eyes still held the bewilderment left by shock, along with a trace of fear he could barely conceal. From his detention by the patrol to his "escort" to this castle built atop the Black Rock Wall, he had witnessed too many things beyond imagination.
The soldiers called the "Unsullied" were well equipped and terrifyingly silent. On the march, they resembled an immense gray torrent, their discipline almost unnervingly strict.
Then there were the various Valyrian steel weapons worn by the officers and the guards whose features were clearly Westerosi. These priceless treasures had been issued so "casually." The wealth and resources that implied were chilling.
What shook him even more were his two "chance encounters" with dragons.
The first had been in the waters near the Valyrian Peninsula. An enormous pitch-black dragon had swept past, almost brushing their ship. Its dark scales gleamed coldly in the morning sea mist, and when its slit pupils passed over him, the crushing pressure nearly frightened him into collapsing onto the deck.
The second had come yesterday, just as he arrived at the black fortress called "Dragonwing Castle," when a dazzling streak of golden light tore across the sky.
It was a dragon he could not describe in words. Three majestic heads looked down upon him, and when its wings spread, their shadow could cover half a hill. It gave only a single long roar, but the sheer force of that sound left him rooted to the spot, unable to take another step for a long time.
That was a creature out of legend, not some wildly exaggerated rumor. It was real and alive, a power capable of overturning everything in the