The structure before them pulsed with a strange rhythm.
At first glance it seemed to breathe, its walls expanding and drawing inward again as if the building itself were alive. With every slow contraction the timber frame creaked softly, then stretched outward once more. After several such cycles, the structure had grown to nearly twice the size it had been when construction first began.
Even so, the result remained… unimpressive.
From a distance it looked little more than an oversized horse stable.
Rows of thick wooden beams supported a broad sloping roof. The wide doors were tall enough for something far larger than horses, yet the overall design still carried the plain practicality of a stable rather than the grandeur of a royal structure.
Lysandro Rogare studied it for a long moment, his dark eyes thoughtful. One hand rested lightly against the pommel of his belt dagger while the other stroked his trimmed beard.
Finally he spoke.
"I have visited King's Landing before."
His voice carried the smooth confidence of a seasoned merchant accustomed to speaking in courts and counting houses alike.
"From afar, I once saw the Dragonpit beneath the Great Sept."
He gestured lightly toward the expanding structure.
"If Your Highness intends to house dragons here, why not simply construct a dragonpit like that?"
His tone remained polite, though curiosity lingered beneath it.
"Such a building would certainly be expensive. Yet compared to the cost of forging dragon-binding seals, it would surely be far cheaper."
The sea breeze drifted through the unfinished timbers, carrying the distant scent of salt and tar from the harbor below Drakoncrest.
Prince Aegon rested both hands upon the wooden railing before him. The rough grain pressed against his palms as he gazed out toward the water.
When Lysandro finished speaking, the prince only chuckled.
The sound was quiet, almost amused.
He did not answer the question directly.
Instead he leaned back slightly against the railing, his posture relaxed, as if the conversation had turned toward memories rather than construction.
"When I was first granted rule over the Stepstones," Aegon said slowly, "those islands were nothing but a battlefield."
His eyes drifted toward the distant horizon where the sea met the pale sky.
"Chaos everywhere. Pirates, sellswords, petty kings fighting over rocks that barely deserved the name of islands."
He paused for a moment, fingers tapping lightly against the wood.
"There was nothing there."
The others waited.
Felix stood a few steps away, arms folded loosely behind his back. His posture appeared respectful, though his sharp eyes remained fixed on the young prince with careful attention.
Johanna leaned lightly against one of the support posts, sunlight catching the pale strands of her hair as the wind tugged playfully at them.
Aegon continued.
"But having nothing is not the worst fate a ruler can suffer."
He turned his head slightly, glancing toward Lysandro.
"The worst thing," he said calmly, "is having no plan."
For a moment only the wind answered him.
Aegon knew well what many people whispered.
They said his victories had come easily because of dragons.
That without dragonfire the Stepstones would never have fallen so quickly.
He did not pretend otherwise. A faint smile touched his lips.
"Yes. The dragon helped me sweep through Tyrosh."
He spoke the words openly.
"I will not deny it."
His gaze sharpened just a little, like steel catching light.
"But even without dragons, Tyrosh would never have been my equal."
He tapped the railing once with a finger.
"It simply would have taken longer."
Because unlike his enemies, he had always known exactly what he intended to do.
Felix watched him from the side.
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly, forming a polite expression that could pass for admiration.
Yet inside, his thoughts were far less simple.
To him, Aegon was still a child.
Young. Bold. Dangerous perhaps, but still young.
If not for the dragon under his command, that old fox Nekania could have slit the boy's throat long ago and thrown the body into the sea.
Felix kept those thoughts carefully hidden behind calm eyes.
Johanna broke the brief silence with a soft laugh.
The sound was light, almost playful.
"Was Tyrosh always part of Your Highness's plan?"
She tilted her head slightly, studying Aegon with a curious smile.
"Please do not misunderstand me. I only heard that you once offered Tyrosh a chance to surrender."
Her tone sounded casual. Almost idle.
Yet the question was far from meaningless.
Lysandro and Felix both turned their gaze toward Aegon at once.
If the prince had always intended to conquer Tyrosh, then Myr and Lys could hardly expect mercy.
But if Tyrosh had not been part of the original plan…
Then perhaps the other Free Cities still had room to bargain.
Aegon stood quietly for a moment.
One hand rested against the railing while the other brushed lightly over the wood as if feeling the grain beneath his fingertips.
Then he chuckled.
"I did offer Tyrosh a chance to surrender."
His voice remained calm.
"Unfortunately, Nekania refused."
Aegon lifted his eyes toward the sea again.
"He chose resistance."
The faint warmth that had lingered in his tone disappeared.
"The result speaks for itself."
Far out in the water a few ships drifted slowly near the harbor entrance, their sails hanging limp in the quiet air.
Aegon watched them for a moment before continuing.
"Even now that old man is still hiding somewhere in the city."
His lips curved faintly.
"But it no longer matters." The prince straightened slightly. "I have already discovered his hiding place."
A quiet confidence settled into his voice. "The rebels are closing in." The smile that followed was small and almost pleasant. "Once Nekania dies," Aegon said softly, "Tyrosh will belong to the past."
Felix shifted his weight.
The movement was small, but it drew the prince's attention.
Felix lifted one hand and brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve before speaking.
"It seems Your Highness maintains a rather… close relationship with the rebels."
His tone sounded relaxed, almost conversational.
"I have heard that you often supply them with weapons and provisions."
He gave a slight shrug, as if the matter held little importance.
"Many slave masters have already died beneath dragonfire."
Though his voice remained casual, the question behind it was sharp.
Felix wanted to know where Aegon stood.
Especially regarding slave owners.
The answer would shape his next move.
Aegon did not hesitate.
"Our relationship is acceptable."
His reply came easily. "After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend."
He turned slightly, resting his shoulder against the railing as he faced them. "The rebels fight the slave masters of Tyrosh."
Aegon spread his hands lightly. "Since their goals align with mine, it would be strange for me to stand aside and watch."
Lysandro nodded slowly. "Your Highness speaks wisely."
Yet the merchant's expression carried a hint of caution.
"But rebels are rarely satisfied with small victories."
His voice lowered just a little.
"Ambition can grow quickly once chains are broken."
Lysandro folded his hands together in front of him.
"Your Highness should be careful not to raise a tiger only to be devoured by it later."
Aegon turned his head and looked directly at him.
For a brief moment neither man spoke.
The prince's eyes glimmered with an odd amusement.
"Tell me, Lord Lysandro."
His voice was quiet but precise.
"The rebels wish to overthrow the slave masters."
Aegon tilted his head slightly.
"But your family participates in the slave trade as well, do you not?"
The question struck like a sudden gust of cold wind.
Lysandro stiffened.
The reaction was immediate.
His fingers tightened together before he quickly forced them apart again.
"No. No, nothing like that."
The denial came faster than he intended.
"The Rogare family deals only in banking."
He shook his head firmly.
"We have never touched the slave trade."
"Never."
The word hung in the air. Then a soft sound escaped Felix.
A quiet laugh.
Barely louder than a breath. Yet in the silence it carried clearly enough.
Both Aegon and Lysandro heard it. Lysandro's face darkened almost at once.
He turned his head slowly toward Felix. The merchant's gaze sharpened with restrained irritation.
He knew exactly what the man had laughed at.
And Felix truly had not meant to laugh aloud.
But the moment had simply been too amusing.
The patriarch of House Rogare, a lineage older than many kingdoms, had denied involvement in the slave trade so quickly that it bordered on desperation.
There had been no hesitation. No careful phrasing. No proud deflection.
Only denial.
It looked almost pitiful.
Felix pressed his lips together, forcing his expression back into calm neutrality.
Aegon's gaze shifted toward him.
The prince studied Felix for a moment before a pleasant smile returned to his face.
His voice carried a gentle tone again.
"I have heard that your family deals mainly in spices, gemstones, and fine crafts."