[center][img]http://th05.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2014/017/d/1/king_s_landing_by_batkya-d72j17n.jpg[/img][/center] A coastal city, tall and proud, danced against the waves of the surf below. Huge white walls covered a keep more than a thousand years old. Its thick stone weathered and aged, edges chipped and rough as if sandstone. Great towers soured from above with large windows, each filled with tinted glass. Inside this halls were the reflection of dozens of dancing lights. One structure stood out in particular. A huge dome, larger than any temple or home in the city. Above the King's Throne sat a wide and dense glass, filled with hundreds of shards of glass, each tempered into different colours, shining a glow down onto the man. The rest of the city shared only the white walls, brightly glaring as an morning sun rose high enough to say goodbye to the dawn and begin to welcome the dusk. The streets were crowded. Whether the city was flooded with its inhabitants or the beggars it had created it could not be certain. Yet its walls beamed with life, screaming, shouting, laughter and crying. The people of Eleusis were alive with whatever their lives were currently entailing, be it love or fear. They'd survived sieges and raging naval assaults. They'd even survived the Red Fever that had traveled over the oceans through traders and vendors from the East. Eleusis stood strong and many believed it always wood. The same family had ruled over their kingdom for longer than any man could remember, they always would. Inside the keep walls a world of politics and secrets raged. Men spoke truths to one face and lies to another, each weighing in their neighbor's loyalty and true alligence. Inside the walls lied maids and ladies, lords and advisers, knights and scholars. Some had the King's trust, others were there simply as a proof of the King's domination over the country; far too many times had those further from the capital pulled from under his family's reign. Slowly however, their leaders had been crushed and their nobles been paid. It was a dirty game being king. Yet in one room, not far from the great domed hall where their king sat on his great arse, calling shots over the entire population, eating and drinking his way into an early grave, a man stood. Two great eyes beamed out over the ocean, staring ahead as if lusting for something so deeply it burned his very soul. Lord Illyn Grey was a man of great wealth, a rumour spoke of it being vastly greater than the King's. He was a powerful man with a keen interest in what was possibly more dangerous than he'd like to expect. He moved at the sound a rattle on his door. A small girl, no older than fifteen hurried to the door, pulling it open in the Lord's request. Illyn stood tall with his shoulders back, his entire presence an air of intimidation. It wasn't by strength, but by power. Aside from the King himself, there was no more powerful man on their entire island. He was feared by a great number within the higher nobles and by far more who worked in his name. As the door pulled open, the girl stepped back to give the man leave to entire the room. He was slender with eyes that shone with a strange sharpness. "Ser Daeron." Illyn spoke his hands busy pouring himself a solid gold chalice of wine. "Nymerian, like yourself." He added, lifting the cup to his lips. The knight merely nodded his head in respect. "I find the eastern wines to be sweeter than those pulled from vines in the south. What is it your people do?" He asked, his eyes never leaving the knight. They were a cold blue compared to the brown of the younger man. Eyes that had seen far too much in their life, lived far too much trouble and far too much anguish. "I'm afraid I do not know, my lord. My family do not own a vineyard." Rhoynar smiled, his hands resting behind his back. His voice was different to the capital accent. It lingered with an almost nasal twist, somewhat exotic yet with too much grace to be a threat. The Nymerian people were often famed for their deceptive voices, often being told to have sired from witches and harpies with soft voices to lure when into fatal traps. "I hear it is a sweet sugar that varies from vine to vine." He added. His eyes twisted about the room slowly, taking in the wealth of the man who seemed to have been staying in the capital far longer than anyone had expected.