Hadrian Peverell: High Lord of Skagos

Chapter 45: The Arrival in King's Landing

Hadrian stood at the prow of the ship as it slipped into Blackwater Bay, taking in the sweeping view of King's Landing. Even from the harbor, the Red Keep loomed high above the rest of the city, a fortress of ancient stone and darkened ramparts. Behind him, his guards and attendants moved with purpose, readying the caravan of gifts prepared to present to the king. Each crate contained items selected with meticulous care: silver goblets, fine pelts from Skagos, aged Skagosi whisky, and even intricate glassware—a rare commodity outside the Free Cities. But as they drew closer to the docks, a noxious odor began to creep into the air, thickening with every wave that splashed against the harbor wall.

As the ship pulled alongside the wooden pier, a squad of gold cloaks, King's Landing's guards, strode forward, eyeing Hadrian's company with suspicion. Their leader, a grizzled officer with a lined face and wary eyes, stepped up to Hadrian as he disembarked. "Declare your name and purpose," the officer demanded, squinting as he assessed the tall, finely dressed man before him, accompanied by guards who looked formidable even in comparison to seasoned soldiers.

"I am Hadrian Peverell, Lord of Skagos," Hadrian announced, his voice carrying the strength of authority. "I come to King's Landing by invitation to pay homage to the king."

The officer's eyes widened slightly as he heard the name "Skagos." He glanced warily at Hadrian's retinue, his gaze lingering on the ceremonial weapons they carried and the Skagosi soldiers, who seemed untouched by the southern climate despite their fur-lined attire. "You'll be escorted to the Red Keep," the officer said at last, signaling his men to make way.

Hadrian gave a short nod, gesturing for his guards to follow. They set off down the main road from the harbor, weaving through the cramped, chaotic streets of King's Landing. Every step they took brought them deeper into the press of people—merchants hawking their wares, beggars reaching out with open hands, and children darting through the narrow gaps between carts and stalls. A faint smell of refuse and waste wafted from the gutters, nearly overpowering even the lingering scent of salt from the bay.

Kreacher wrinkled his nose, barely masking his disgust. "The air here is as foul as the swamps," he muttered, glancing about with narrowed eyes. "How can they stand to breathe this filth every day?"

Hadrian shared his attendant's distaste, but he forced himself to remain stoic. "It's a part of their lives, Kreacher. They've no choice but to adapt."

The old elf now man sneered, his gaze flicking between the crowded buildings, each one leaning at precarious angles, as though fighting to stay upright amid the grime and squalor. The clamor around them grew louder as they neared the city center. More people poured into the streets, brushing against their entourage, casting curious and wary looks at Hadrian's strange company.

Hadrian adjusted his cloak, drawing it closer as he noticed the stares. His guards, clad in Skagosi armor, radiated an unyielding aura. Their polished steel gleamed even in the hazy midday light, and their wolf-fur cloaks, dyed in the colors of House Peverell, made them stand out like wolves among sheep. The few street urchins brave enough to inch close for a better look quickly retreated, eyes wide as they took in the hard faces of Hadrian's soldiers.

Eventually, they reached the towering walls of the Red Keep. Its crimson stone cast a brooding shadow over the courtyard, a silent reminder of the power held within its walls. Another contingent of guards met them at the gate, confirming their identities before leading them inside the castle grounds.

Once past the gates, they were led through an expansive courtyard toward the Great Hall, where the Iron Throne awaited them. The scent within the Keep was an improvement over the streets, though the lingering smokiness of torchlight and faint metallic tang from weaponry reminded Hadrian of how far he was from the open air of Skagos. They passed walls adorned with banners of the Targaryen dragon, fierce and proud in red and black, as they made their way toward the Hall.

Finally, they arrived at the doors of the Great Hall, where the sound of voices and shuffling feet echoed within. Hadrian took a deep breath, composing himself, then motioned for his guards to stand tall as the heavy doors swung open, revealing the grandeur within.

Rows of nobles and courtiers lined the sides of the Hall, whispering to one another as they watched the strangers from Skagos enter. At the far end of the chamber, seated atop the Iron Throne, was the king himself. His presence filled the room, the harsh angles of the throne's swords a stark contrast to his calm, calculating gaze. The lords and ladies parted before Hadrian's party as they approached the king's dais, their expressions a mix of curiosity, caution, and barely concealed disdain.

Hadrian stopped at a respectful distance, giving a formal bow. "Your Grace," he intoned, his voice resonating in the vast hall. "I come as the Lord of Skagos, a land made stronger under your rule, to pay homage and bring gifts in honor of our shared allegiance."

The king nodded, his gaze flickering over Hadrian's guards, his curiosity evident. "Skagos has long been a land shrouded in mystery," he said, his voice carrying a low but commanding tone. "I am pleased to see its lord here in the heart of the realm. Step forward and present your gifts, Lord Peverell."

Hadrian signaled for his attendants, who brought forth the crates containing the gifts. The room fell silent as the courtiers leaned in, eager to glimpse the treasures hidden within. One by one, the chests were opened, revealing the silver goblets, pelts, Skagosi whisky, and an assortment of fine glassware, some pieces tinted in hues of emerald and sapphire, capturing the light that filtered in through the stained glass windows above.

The king's expression softened as he observed the offerings, his gaze lingering on the intricate glassware. "Your generosity is noted, Lord Peverell," he said. "These items reflect the unique craftsmanship of your people. And the whisky... I hear it is unmatched even among the finest distilleries of the South."

Hadrian inclined his head, grateful for the compliment. "It is an honor, Your Grace. The men of Skagos have labored tirelessly to create goods worthy of the realm, and it is my hope that trade with our lands will only strengthen our bonds."

The king nodded approvingly, but the courtiers were less restrained in their reactions, their whispers growing louder as they discussed the rare quality of the Skagosi goods. Murmurs of curiosity, interest, and even envy drifted through the room as they took in the gifts presented by the remote lord from the North.

Turning back to Hadrian, the king spoke. "Tell me, Lord Peverell, what do you hope to gain from this visit beyond paying homage?"

Hadrian met the king's gaze evenly. "Only that Skagos be recognized as a loyal part of the realm, Your Grace. That we may be granted the honor of trade and protection as any other house under your rule."

The king smiled, a knowing gleam in his eye. "Loyalty is always rewarded, Lord Peverell. Skagos has long been a land left to its own devices. I am pleased to see it joining the wider realm under such capable leadership."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the hall as the king's words settled. The audience, once wary, now watched Hadrian with newfound respect. In that moment, he knew his presence had been acknowledged not only by the king but by the influential nobles and advisors who would shape the realm's perception of Skagos.

After a few more formalities, the king dismissed the court, signaling that Hadrian was free to mingle with the nobles gathered. As Hadrian moved through the crowd, several lords and ladies approached him, expressing admiration for the goods he had presented. Some inquired about the whisky, others about the glassware, and more than one complimented the quality of the furs his guards wore.

Hadrian met each noble with courtesy, answering their questions and speaking briefly about the people and lands of Skagos. By the time the crowd began to disperse, he had forged tentative connections with several key figures—lords from the Vale, merchants from the Reach, even a representative from House Lannister who expressed interest in establishing a steady trade of Skagosi goods.

Finally, Kreacher sidled up beside him, looking weary yet satisfied. "They are... intrigued, it seems," he remarked, his voice low. "And perhaps a bit envious."

Hadrian allowed himself a faint smile. "Let them be. Today, we've laid the foundation for Skagos's future here in King's Landing. With the support of the crown and the interest of these lords, our reach can only grow."