Chapter Text
The Pureborn, in spite of ruling Qarth, were not frequently contacted about new matters.
The governance of the city was efficient in its own Qarthian way, meaning that most matters got sorted by the lower orders before the highest ranks in the city were forced to deal with them.
Wendello preferred it that way.
Most matters, after all, were so, so boring.
Still, unlike most other Pureborn, he had still not given up hope that some matter of import might appear and catch his attention, so he had enough spies over the city to ensure that such an interesting matter does not escape him.
It was too frustrating, imagining that something of interest would happen, once per decade, and he would miss it.
So when a messenger came, interrupting Wendello in his bath, to tell him he had an important message for him, it was not an impossibility, as such.
Still, Wendello was not hopeful.
The boys and men who do this service for him were trained long and hard to recognise what was important and punished sharply for their mistakes, but it did not, sadly, mean the mistakes did still not happen. Why, it had only been the year before that someone brought him news of such a mundane conflict between the merchants that Wendello spent days trying to escape the boredom that encroached upon him every time he as much as remembered it.
Besides, there had been an interesting event recently. It had not even been a moon’s turn since the red comet disappeared. The chances of another one following so soon were small indeed.
Nevertheless, Wendello knew that if he did not see to the messenger, he would grow unbearably curious, so reluctantly, he left this bath, wrapped himself in his thin silk robe, and motioned impatiently for the young man, who gulped.
“What is it, then, boy?“ Wendello asked. If this was done and sorted soon enough, he might still return to his bath - the water would stay warm that long, surely?
The boy gulped again, and then said quickly: “My lord, forgive me, but there is a Dothraki rider arrived in the city, and he swears he accompanies a khaleesi who has three dragons with her. He swears so on his life.“
Wendello sat up straighter in his ornate chair.
Well. He supposed that if the second interesting event was directly connected to the first, then it made sense there would be two, after all.
There had been many theories about the comet in Qarth, he knew, most of them focusing on how it foretold the bright future of their city. Wendello was sceptical. Qarth had not had a particularly bright future ahead of it for some time. This, however…return of the dragons…well, if that was true, then it would explain the red comet very well indeed, and would be worth much more than a decade of interesting news.
„Swears on his life, does he?“ Wendello wondered aloud. “Well then. Be sure to let one of the lesser orders in this city know – or even better, all of them. The warlocks, the merchants, everyone. I am certain some of them will bestir themselves to check this wonder, and then they will bring us the news. And if it turns out to be false, well then, make sure the Dothraki pays with the life he had forsworn, for wasting my time.“