The city was bustling around them as the prince and Ser Arthur Dayne trotted down the stone road. A detachment of Gold-Cloaks walked before them and behind them, forming a diamond shape in order to keep the rabble from getting too close to their prince. Rhaegar sat atop his black destrier, his silver locks flowing behind him as the wind ripped down the road. "So, what is so important that Pretty Prince Rhaegar has decided to muddy his boots in Flea Bottom just to have a look at?"

Rhaegar's dark lilac eyes fixed themselves on his friend and protector. "There is a small book shop down here." Dayne's white cloak rippled in the wind. Dawn clang against his white scaled armor with each bounce of his horse. Rhaegar always felt safe when his best friend was near. He had no need for armor. Instead, he had chose a red silk shirt and black trousers for the day's venture.

"And why," Arthur continued to press, "do we care about some book shop?" The people loved Ser Arthur Dayne. They rejoiced as the Sword of the Morning rode past them. They couldn't possibly be cheering for the prince, could they?

His squires followed along quietly behind the two companions. "We care, Ser Arthur, because the Spider has informed me that the owner is in possession of an ancient scroll. One he insisted I must read." Rhaegar and Arthur pulled up their reigns in front of a small building tucked between two larger ones; a brothel, and what appeared to be a soup house. "I am fairly certain this is where Varys said it was." The gold-cloaks formed a crescent around the door of the building, encompassing Rhaegar and Arthur as they dismounted. Arthur whistled and Myles Mooton, one of Rhaegar's squires took his Prince's reigns.

Rhaegar pressed his face against his destrier's own. "Wait for me, Balerion," he whispered into the horse's ear. Arthur followed his friend into the tiny shop. "Ah, Prince Rhaegar!" The old twig of a man looked at his two customers in utter shock. "What brings such royalty into my humble shop?"

He smiled at the elder, hoping to calm him. "I have come here because I heard you were in possession of an ancient scroll. One I have been told that I must look at right away." The old man shook his head. Had the Spider been wrong? No, Varys is never wrong.

Finally, the old man spoke up, explaining his expression. "I have received a number of scrolls in an expedition I had funded into the ruins of Summerhall." Rhaegar's face lit up as he recalled his favorite place. "I haven't the time to go through them, my self," the old man continued, "how did you hear of a certain one?"

Varys, and his little birds. Is there anything they don't know. "How I have come to know of these writings is irrelevant. I wish to see these scrolls. I will pay for those I end up taking, and rather handsomely." Without any hesitation the old man led Rhaegar to the back room, past a dark curtain.

He and Ser Arthur Dayne spent the rest of the afternoon reading, finally leaving the shop as the moon began to rise over the city. Rhaegar only carried out one scroll. "I must speak with Ser Oswell Whent. I must know who Rickard Stark is bringing south to the Tourney at Harrenhall."