Fire and Sea

Four (editing)

Daemon

Sounds of bawled up fist pounding against metal meets his ears. This sound would taunt the people's nightmares, gladly so. This sound he enjoys. The sun had abandoned the sky, leaving only the shivering night to take over. Daemons eyes flicker to the torches of flicking flame around him, guiding light to the dark spaces.

His eyes then skim over the men that stands in two rows in front of him. The gold fabric dancing, shining against their armor. A color of power. A color of change.

"Commander on the floor!"

The blissful sounds halts. Daemons side feels empty as he meets each piecing gaze that no doubt matches his own.

"When I took command of the watch, you were stray mongrels, starving and undisciplined." his voice is steady and strong, carrying over the army of men.

Something is missing.

"Now, you're a pack of hounds. You're dated and honed for the hunt."

The men, his men erupt into howls that fill the night sky. They were a pack of hounds indeed.

"My brothers city has fallen into squalor." his metal rattles as well as his sword as he begins to take calculated steps forward, meeting everyone's eyes. "Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive. No longer."

"Beginning tonight, King's Landing will learn to fear the color gold." And with daemon's final words, the group of men erupt again into shouts and grunts.

He looks down one more time at his gold cape draped over his uniform. Someone inspired this color. The same someone whose lessons began just a short time ago and was already exceeding. The same someone who he vowed wasn't ready for tonight.

It was too soon.

He tears his eyes away from the color and takes his gaze to the double doors separating themselves from the dirty streets of the city. With one short nod, those same doors purge open and they all march in. The occasional torch lighting their way. The group of men branch off into four lines, maneuvering their way through the people of the night.

Grunts of pain filled the air soon after. Squeals of fear left the lips of the family members who saw their beloved husbands, brothers, and distant family members beaten before their eyes.

Daemon marches down an alleyway with everyone but his student flanking behind him. His helmet sculpted perfectly with the bold colors of black and red sprouted from the back. He swings on a man being held up by two of his soldiers. He quickly turns taking in his surroundings.

"Raper." Another gets his groin cut off.

"Thief!" His eyes follow to see another hand get chopped off.

The wails behind him only increase when one of his men takes to his side and only shouts one word as he points.

"Murderer!"

He eyes the struggling man before himself. Daemon unsheathes his sword at his hip, walking every so slowly towards the criminal. His lips curve upwards as the sounds of cries and struggle rise around him. In one swift motion, he swings dark sister and slices it through the mans neck. It would only be satisfying enough if his student was the one to do it.

He discards of the decaying head on the wagon full of other bloody abandoned body parts.

"It was an unprecedented roundup of criminals of every ilk. Your brother made a public show of it, meting out the summary judgments himself. I'm told they needed a two-horse cart to haul away the resulting dismemberments when it was done."