The Dragon's Legacy

Chapter Twenty-Nine

He left. Martyn Hightower thought to himself as he frowned bitterly as he looked at the papers in front of him.

If someone could see Martyn's furious face, they would have had a hard time believing that a calm man like Martyn would ever allow anything to sour his moments, but Martyn was furious.

Martyn had spent the entire night of the royal wedding of Rhaena and Aegon Targaryen looking for his nephew to finish telling him of their plans. But it was as if Daemion had disappeared into thin air with no trace. A few had seen him leave as the bride and groom spoke their oaths, but nothing more. Martyn spent the entire night waiting, only to hear the next day's noon, that the Black Dragon had left the capital on top of his dragon. Where to? Nobody knew.

Some said the prince planned a rebellion against his grandfather to take the throne not for his father, but for himself, but some said that he was bewitched by a witch from Lys, whom he had met in a brothel. Some said it he loved his princess Rhaena and it was her marriage that sent him away, and many more rumours and rumours.

Martyn did not know his nephew enough to know where he was or what he was doing... But he was furious over his actions. That stupid boy... Martyn thought to himself. I am trying to make a boy a king, and yet he pushes back, not knowing that he is pushing the crown away...

Martyn shook his head slightly to focus on the papers in front of him. The last of the papers to prepare the Citadel for their new Dornish recruits that were soon to arrive from Dorne.

His door was knocked and following that knock, a young man wearing elegant attire with short dark brown hair, as one who attends to the High Tower must wear, entered his office.

"A man wishes to see you, my lord." The young man spoke as he looked at Martyn with his serious grey eyes.

"Who is it?" Martyn asked as he raised his head from his papers looking at the young man standing at the door.

"A drornishman. He says that you are acquainted with him." The young man spoke.

"Hm." Martyn hummed. A dornishman? Have the recruits arrived? Martyn wondered to himself.  "Let him in."

The young man bowed and left the chamber. Not so long after his departure, the door was opened, and Olyvar Fowler walked in. "My lord Hightower, thank you for the audience." He spoke as he bowed with his uncanny smirk.

"It has been over three weeks since the royal wedding. Why have you not returned to Dorne yet lord Olyvar?" Martyn Hightower asked bluntly as his handsome and graceful face darkened by his frown as he looked at the dornishman.

"I have been trying to ask for an audience with you and your... Prince Daemion since the night of the wedding, but I failed at every turn. So I chose to come to your fabulous city, half sure that you might be here." Olyvar Fowler spoke with his nerve-wracking smirk.

"And what was the goal of it?" Martyn Hightower asked calmly but the sharpness in his voice was not difficult to find. "What did you hope to find?"

"I had hoped..." Olyvar began walking. "... that I might find a friend and an ally. My true goal was to speak with you, my lord. Not just attending to the wedding." Olyvar Fowler spoke as he walked around the room, eyeing every bookshelf and elegantly crafted windows.

"What of?" Martyn Hightower asked. "And I believed that we had already found a common ground with Princess Deria in Greenstone?"

"Well..." Olyvar Fowler spoke as he pulled a chair for himself and sat in front of Martyn. "Princess Deria believes that your lordship and her grace have... mutual interests."