Anxious Ambition [End]
Posted: Sat Aug 24, 2024 6:53 pm
“I’m bored, Tal'm.”
Aerys Hellgate leaned back in his chair, his legs propped up on the polished stone table that dominated his new quarters. The room was spacious, lined with ancient tapestries and adorned with relics of his ancestors, but the weight of tradition did little to lighten his mood. Aerys stared up at the intricately carved ceiling, the flickering light of the torches casting restless shadows across the room. He let out a heavy sigh, the sound echoing off the stone walls.
Tal'm Hellgate, his personal advisor and a seasoned member of the Tyre tribe, regarded him with a mixture of patience and mild reproach. The older man stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the sprawling city of Solara, its golden spires glinting in the midday sun. “Boredom is a luxury, my lord,” Tal'm replied, his gruff voice calm but firm. “One not afforded to many in your position.”
Aerys rolled his eyes, a habit he knew irritated Tal'm to no end. “I didn’t spend years scrapin’ through hellish realms and conquerin’ death traps just to sit here with me face in a book, Tal'm,” he grumbled. He kicked his feet off the table and sat up, the chair creaking under his weight. “I thought bein’ crowned would be… more excitin’, yeah? So far, it’s just been endless meetin's, paperwork, an’ other ceremonial bullocks.”
Tal'm turned to face him, his expression carefully neutral. “You’ve been appointed to lead the Tyre, Aerys. With that comes responsibility—learning the protocols, understanding the alliances, mastering the nuances of—”
“Gahh-- Ya know, you're a broken record, mate." Aerys cut in, waving a hand dismissively. “No crown I know er’ ever read about, went about his good deeds by hidin’ in his castle.. I should be out there, gettin’ me hands dirty.. doing something. Not stuck here, trapped behind a cage of ledgers and politics.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Is this what my father would’ve wanted? For me to be sittin’ on my ass while the world spins around me?”
Tal'm's eyes softened at the mention of Aerys’ father, the late Kaemon Tyre, whose legacy loomed large over both their lives. “Your father understood the value of preparation,” Tal'm said quietly. “He knew that true leadership requires more than strength; it requires wisdom, patience, and foresight. You have his ambition, Aerys, but you must temper it with those same qualities.”
Aerys sighed again, louder this time. He knew Tal'm was right, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. He had been bred for greatness, trained to be the best of the best, and now he was shackled to a throne that felt more like a prison. “It's just– I'm itchin’ for action, mate.” he muttered, standing up and pacing the room. “Anythin’. Somethin’ that feels real.”
Before Tal'm could respond, there was a knock at the door. Aerys paused, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the heavy oak door. “It's open, innit?” he called, more forcefully than he intended.
A young aide entered, bowing deeply before speaking. “Young Crown, news from Dabih’r. The city… it’s been destroyed.”
Aerys stopped in his tracks, his frustration immediately giving way to a surge of adrenaline. “You're havin’ laugh?” he repeated, his voice sharp. “The hell happened?”
“We don’t know the details yet,” the aide replied, his voice trembling slightly under Aerys’ intense gaze. “But there are reports of a massive attack. A handful of survivors have been found, but search parties are still sifting through the chaos.”
Aerys felt his pulse quicken, the boredom that had plagued him moments ago now a distant memory. This was it. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for—a chance to prove himself, to show that he was more than just a figurehead. “..don't wait up, Tal'm..” he ordered, his voice resolute. “I’m going to Dabih’r.”
Tal'm stepped forward, concern etched into his features. “Aerys, wait. You need to think this through. You can’t just—”
“Oi, but you're wrong.. I can and I am,” Aerys interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “If I’m goin’ to be the crown of the Tyre, I need to act like it. I need to protect our people, not just sit here and let the world burn around me.” He moved toward the door, removing his royal garbs– his determination radiating off him in waves.
“That's not what he would've wanted.”
Tal'm hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Very well,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “But be careful, Aerys. Dabih’r may hold more than just the ruins of a city. There could be something—or someone—waiting for you.”
Aerys glanced back at his advisor, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Well that’s the whole reason I'm goin’, innit?”
With that, Aerys swept out of the room, the weight of his new title pressing down on him as he prepared to confront whatever—or whoever—had dared to challenge the peace of his domain. He was done waiting. It was time to act.
Aerys Hellgate leaned back in his chair, his legs propped up on the polished stone table that dominated his new quarters. The room was spacious, lined with ancient tapestries and adorned with relics of his ancestors, but the weight of tradition did little to lighten his mood. Aerys stared up at the intricately carved ceiling, the flickering light of the torches casting restless shadows across the room. He let out a heavy sigh, the sound echoing off the stone walls.
Tal'm Hellgate, his personal advisor and a seasoned member of the Tyre tribe, regarded him with a mixture of patience and mild reproach. The older man stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the sprawling city of Solara, its golden spires glinting in the midday sun. “Boredom is a luxury, my lord,” Tal'm replied, his gruff voice calm but firm. “One not afforded to many in your position.”
Aerys rolled his eyes, a habit he knew irritated Tal'm to no end. “I didn’t spend years scrapin’ through hellish realms and conquerin’ death traps just to sit here with me face in a book, Tal'm,” he grumbled. He kicked his feet off the table and sat up, the chair creaking under his weight. “I thought bein’ crowned would be… more excitin’, yeah? So far, it’s just been endless meetin's, paperwork, an’ other ceremonial bullocks.”
Tal'm turned to face him, his expression carefully neutral. “You’ve been appointed to lead the Tyre, Aerys. With that comes responsibility—learning the protocols, understanding the alliances, mastering the nuances of—”
“Gahh-- Ya know, you're a broken record, mate." Aerys cut in, waving a hand dismissively. “No crown I know er’ ever read about, went about his good deeds by hidin’ in his castle.. I should be out there, gettin’ me hands dirty.. doing something. Not stuck here, trapped behind a cage of ledgers and politics.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Is this what my father would’ve wanted? For me to be sittin’ on my ass while the world spins around me?”
Tal'm's eyes softened at the mention of Aerys’ father, the late Kaemon Tyre, whose legacy loomed large over both their lives. “Your father understood the value of preparation,” Tal'm said quietly. “He knew that true leadership requires more than strength; it requires wisdom, patience, and foresight. You have his ambition, Aerys, but you must temper it with those same qualities.”
Aerys sighed again, louder this time. He knew Tal'm was right, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. He had been bred for greatness, trained to be the best of the best, and now he was shackled to a throne that felt more like a prison. “It's just– I'm itchin’ for action, mate.” he muttered, standing up and pacing the room. “Anythin’. Somethin’ that feels real.”
Before Tal'm could respond, there was a knock at the door. Aerys paused, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the heavy oak door. “It's open, innit?” he called, more forcefully than he intended.
A young aide entered, bowing deeply before speaking. “Young Crown, news from Dabih’r. The city… it’s been destroyed.”
Aerys stopped in his tracks, his frustration immediately giving way to a surge of adrenaline. “You're havin’ laugh?” he repeated, his voice sharp. “The hell happened?”
“We don’t know the details yet,” the aide replied, his voice trembling slightly under Aerys’ intense gaze. “But there are reports of a massive attack. A handful of survivors have been found, but search parties are still sifting through the chaos.”
Aerys felt his pulse quicken, the boredom that had plagued him moments ago now a distant memory. This was it. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for—a chance to prove himself, to show that he was more than just a figurehead. “..don't wait up, Tal'm..” he ordered, his voice resolute. “I’m going to Dabih’r.”
Tal'm stepped forward, concern etched into his features. “Aerys, wait. You need to think this through. You can’t just—”
“Oi, but you're wrong.. I can and I am,” Aerys interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “If I’m goin’ to be the crown of the Tyre, I need to act like it. I need to protect our people, not just sit here and let the world burn around me.” He moved toward the door, removing his royal garbs– his determination radiating off him in waves.
“That's not what he would've wanted.”
Tal'm hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Very well,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “But be careful, Aerys. Dabih’r may hold more than just the ruins of a city. There could be something—or someone—waiting for you.”
Aerys glanced back at his advisor, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Well that’s the whole reason I'm goin’, innit?”
With that, Aerys swept out of the room, the weight of his new title pressing down on him as he prepared to confront whatever—or whoever—had dared to challenge the peace of his domain. He was done waiting. It was time to act.