Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods - Chapter 164: Never lose control

Chapter 164: Never lose control

POV: Quaithe

Never Winter Bank

During a heated golden struggle…

“… 3,300,000 ounces of gold!” The Dornish Prince’s last words sounded pained. The Coalition between Dorne, Norvos and the Islands of Summer had definitely reached the threshold limit…

The King Stag did not hesitate to deliver the final hammer blow.

“3,500,000!!!” King Robert thundered, overpowering the Prince of Rhoynar’s calm voice by two tones.

The Representative of Dorne struggled to stand, helping himself to a support stick, but the man, “apparently” afflicted with gout, raised the waiver marker with his head held high and his gaze proud.

“3,500,000 for King Robert! Prince Doran has called his final bid! Only three representatives remain in competitions, my lords and ladies…!

Currently, in the first position, we have the fierce faction of the West, with 5,000,000 ounces.

Next in second is the illustrious faction of The Reach, with 4,500,000 ounces.

In third place is the respected and regal faction of The Crown, with 3,500,000 ounces.

Fourth place follows the resplendent Sun and Summer faction, with 3,300,000 ounces.

And in fifth … the honourable faction of the ancient and magical Far East with-” before the Auction Director sounded out the last amount, her Master thundered:

“The Confederation of Magicians bids 6,000,000 ounces!”

An explosion of bewilderment and disbelief blazed throughout the hall. Even the Director was caught off guard.

Then Quaithe heard a very familiar voice in her head:

“[How much gold do we have on this continent, Quaithe?” asked her Master. Perhaps it would have been wiser to ask her that question “before” blindly firing 18,000,000 gold dragons…

“[We have transported almost all of the fleet’s reserves to the crypts of Winterfell, Master. We currently have 7,723,420 ounces of gold in the North…]” Replied the assistant, holding back a good deal of concern.

“[What! So little? But didn’t we have the flagship’s holds overflowing with gold before we set sail from the Port of Nefer! What about all the blood and mana stones sold to the Braavosians? How much line of credit do we have in the Iron Bank?]” Each time it was the same old story…Chai Duq delegated all matters “Unbecoming of an influential Archwizard” to her or the few trusted members of the arcane High Council. But when the fickle Archwizard demanded disproportionate funds for his research, it was always up to her to elucidate Carcosa’s “current financial availability.”

Quaithe armed herself with patience and calmly explained:

“[Honorable Master, we left Nefer with more than 10,000,000 ounces of gold and numerous stocks of blood and mana stones, it is true, but we spent a good chunk of the reserves and revenues buying multiple batches of food and whale oil stocks from New Ibbish, not to mention the 500 pounds of Valyria Steel purchased at your explicit request from Braavos…

Between the reserve lines of credit left in the Iron Bank and the various other financial institutions of the Free Cities, we could raise, in a rapid time, about another 1,400,000 ounces…]”

“[Tsz…! Right, right, the bloody Steel of Valyria — thanks for reminding me, Quaithe. Well, I still want to fillet a good chunk of meat out of the Titan. We’ll have to find a way to make that possible, my trusty assistant].” Quaithe sighed inwardly, still undecided on what to do… The Lord Sorcerer knew full well that Carcosa had no chance to rival the Wealthy Titan, but Chai Duq still wanted to squeeze the finances of the two wealthy factions to deal a major blow to the Council of Thirteen, forcing them to fund the rival institution with more than their due…

Carcosa always needed a gargantuan liquidity line. Hardly anything grew from the Shadow Lands to the Grey Desert, and the Confederation still had the responsibility of feeding millions of inhabitants…

This could only have meant that the Head in Chief of the Confederacy had decided to gamble on Bloody Snow’s unknown plan. But if only Quaithe could have confessed her concerns to her Master.

After listening to the suppositions of the brightest mind in the East, the Red Witch of Shadows knew the plan of Zick’s protégé… And to say it was “Daring” was an understatement.

From Braavos to IB Sar, from Lys to Port Yhos, the seas were dominated by the immense and stable Titan Fleet–the world’s largest sea force, with over 2,000 ships.

No matter how many ships the Titan lost in storms, pirate attacks, or skirmishes with the other maritime forces of Essos, the Braavos Arsenal churned out galleys and replacement sailors at an unparalleled rate, always maintaining the blockade and dominance over naval trade.

For centuries, the Mage Confederacy had been stifled by the Titan’s commercial stranglehold, the real tyrant who controlled supply and demand in the food market.

This was the Iron Bank’s most lucrative trade: hunger. And the Never Winter Bank would take the field in this fight… Madness.

‘Tsz…! That boy has no idea what perilous quagmire he is about to plunge into…’ Quaithe thought anxiously as she drew the suspicious gaze of the powerful Legilimancer.

“[… Is everything all right, Quaithe? What caused that discrepancy in your mental barriers? Keep control of your emotions and stabilize the flow of your core. We’re not sure whether or not Oldtown has any pages left of the art of the Legilimency…but the false Sorcerer is certainly a decent Occlumancer].” Admonished her master.

“[Yes, master! I apologize for my incompetence!]” Quaithe promptly replied, lowering her head.

“[Never mind, just stay focused.]” The witch nodded doing as requested.

How Quaithe longed for her master’s suspicions to be heightened to compel him to force her mental barriers and discover the truth… That way, the pupil would not break her oath with the Green Demon.

Meanwhile, the Lion of Casterly Rock had raised the surrender marker, refusing to enter into competition against the East…

But, as expected, the Stag King did not return to King Yellow’s challenge.

“6,300,000!!” Roared Robert of House Baratheon, shocking the whole room, including the Queen…

“6,600,000!” Chai Duq did not retreat an inch.

“6,800,000!!!” Thundered the furious King with more emphasis and air in his lungs.

“7,000,000!” The King in The Yellow was not the least impressed and continued to advance.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms suffered a surprise attack of saliva and mucus behind him from his sickly Master of Coin, visibly concerned and intent on advising his own King of the possible repercussions of his actions.

“I don’t care, Lord Gyles…! 7,500,000!!!” Shouted the King furiously, causing a roar of shock among the spectators and the respiratory collapse of his advisor as he slumped lifelessly to the ground…

“8,000,000!” Her master deliberately provokes the Stag King by not allowing him time to glorify himself with his impressive gold offerings… And Robert of House Baratheon fell into the trap.

“8,500,000!!!!” Shouted the King with greater ferocity… At that point, even the so-called “Andal Queen” seemed on the verge of collapsing in an attempt to persuade her father to stop that mad her husband. For good luck, the dignity of the Crown was well defended by the surprised voices of the crowd that muffled shouts such as:

“Are you funding him?!?!” or, “You have to stop him! The Crown doesn’t have a penny to spare!”, “Robert will never give you back that gold!!!”… but the Lion remained firm and composed as Jaime Lannister, with the help of Ser Boros, dragged the screaming lioness away.

“9,000,000!!” Thundered the Sorcerer King in a noticeably higher tone. The assistants of the Never Winter Bank needed help to insert the avalanche of discs to be placed in the iron rods in time…

“[Master…]” Tried to admonish Quaithe. Carcosa had just reached a noticeably red threshold…

“{I know, I know, Quaithe! But don’t worry, I know where to get the funds.}” Replied Chai Duq in a voice in the language of Dawn.

“9,500,000!!!” Thundered the Mad King of the West.

“10,000,000!!!” Rebutted the equally Mad King of the East.

“{And pray to tell, where do you plan to find the funds, Chai?}” Asked the Guardian Guarantor of the event intruding between his friend’s competitive momentum.

“11,000,000 ounces of gold!!!” Shrieked the Stag King with a red face.

“{You lend them to me}, 12,000,000!!!” Screamed the Sorcerer, causing The Watcher to take a hit.

“{What?!! Look, I don’t even own a penny!}” Roared The Watcher in response.

In the meantime, the Confederation’s golden column had just reached precisely half the maximum capacity of the iron rod.

“Your Grace, please!!! We-” attempted Lord Yohn Royce in vain, replacing his unconscious colleague.

“Quiet, I know what I’m doing!!!… 13,000,000!!!” Roared the Stag King from the other side.

“{Don’t sing your false misery with me, Zick! You’ve been chummy with the Rich Demon of the North for years! Old Zishua must have collected millions from the First Men! If you don’t have them, go to Mom-Spider and beg her to lend them to you! No ‘Buts!’ You still owe me for the custom-made trinkets for your Comrade-Demons, remember…?! Shh! Now, hush…The Drunken Deer is about to smell the bait!”}… 13,600,000!” Shrieked Chai Duq with a mixture of reluctance and false desperation.

The King perceived the stranger’s latest offer as a sign of weakness, and the Furious Deer did not hesitate to brandish his hammer, gathering all his remaining strength to unleash a devastating final:

“15,000,000 OUNCES OF GOLD!!!”

The incredulous voices in the hall had generated pure chaos, and only the thundering sounds of inserted metal discs still managed to override the confusion.

The Sorcerer King, after casting a mocking wink at the irritated representative of the Iron Bank (no longer smiling), took a step forward to address his rival and, after a respectful bow to the King of Westeros, the King of the East, Duq of the Chai Dynasty, raised the surrender marker, proclaiming the end of the Auction.

“Ladies and Gentlemen…! We have a winner!!! A big cheer for the faction of the Crown, the Stormlands and the Valley! And an even greater one for the Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms and undisputed Ruler of Westeros, KING ROBERT, FIRST OF HIS NAME, OF THE HOUSE BARATHEON!!!” So proclaimed the Auctionmaster, setting off a blatant burst of jubilation.

*Clap! Clap! Clap!* “Yay, King Robert!!!” *Clap! Clap! Clap!* “Long may he reign!!!” “Hail for the King!” “Aye, Aye For His Grace!!!”

One person, a woman in a mask, was indeed the individual least accustomed to the festivities and, certainly, the most concerned of all…

‘The master has bet more than forty million sights unseen on the Green Fiend’s plan… Carcosa can no longer back out. That ship has already sailed, and it’s my fault.

I could have prevented it… If only I had revealed the truth about the Bastard in time…’

****

Three days before the inauguration.

Camps of the motorcade travelling the Silk Road, in a private pavilion of the Confederation…

[“And so… The God-On-Earth, the only son of the Maiden-Made-of-Light and the Lion of the Night, ascended from his mortal form to join the Gods, leaving the legacy of the Great Empire of Dawn to his eldest son, The Pearl Emperor…”] Quaithe modelled with her cantrip the refraction of light to magnify the Great Phoenix of Light & Shadow until it exploded into a hundred smaller Phoenixes, 50 made of light and 50 of shadow, making them fly harmlessly like butterflies around her audience of young Northern nobles… Finally, the White-Pearl Phoenix of Light stood out, perched regally on the high golden throne.

The young audience went mad with joy…

“Beautiful!!! Wonderful, Lady Quaithe!” *Clap! Clap!* roared and applauded young Lyra Mormont as she stood up.

“Whooo!!!” Howled in wonderment, the Bastard named Jon Snow.

“What did I tell you, Jon! Wasn’t it worth it?! What about you, Samwell Tarly?” Incited the Wolf Cub.

“… I-incredible!” stammered the plump heir of House Tarly.

“Robb Stark was right! This show surpasses the battle of the Black Dread vs Quicksilver!” Thundered Hugo of Clan Wull.

All of the Wolf Cub’s friends and comrades congratulated the heir of Winterfell on the choice.

The mischief of the eldest son of Eddard Stark had not gone unnoticed. Robb Stark had stirred up a real hornet’s nest the night before — stirring up a minor battle between young lords and squires from prestigious families, deviously manipulating a wizard of the Confederacy to obtain his services for free and unauthorized.

The only daughter of a lesser lord of the Stormlands, Brienne of House Tarth, was even bedridden due to the fractures and injuries she suffered… A couple of sons of the lord of Arbor had also suffered a similar fate, causing a little discontent among the Redwines and Starks. . All to allow him, his half-brother and a couple of companions, too young, to witness the bloody duel between Duncan Tallhart and Gelledo Antaryon.

The Lady of Winterfell was furious and demanded exemplary punishment for her son and all those responsible for inciting or supporting such misdeeds. Jon Snow was the most remarked culprit, according to Theon Greyjoy’s testimony… But the Wolf Cub took full blame for all the charges, exonerating all his accomplices and forcing his father to publicly dismiss the matter under the label “Incident between young nobles.”…

The Lord of Winterfell was also noticeably angry and ready to punish both his sons with slaps on the ears and deprivations of all kinds. But… The Overlord of Carcosa, amused and grateful towards the children for granting him a means of pressure to soundly squeeze The Watcher, descended in person in defence of the Starks progeny, praising the Protector of the North for the bold demonstrations of charisma, ingenuity and leadership of the precocious and promising Heir of Winterfell…

Lord Eddard Stark had his hands tied. Publicly punishing his son after praise from the most powerful and respected man in the East could be construed as a gesture of offence against the Sorcerer King. Even the promised magic show was not denied him…

Quaithe did not know precisely what minor punishment young Robb had suffered, but the victory of the “Pack” was indeed won on all fronts, elevating the Wolf Cub as the undisputed leader of the group.

“Credit to Lady Quaithe, everybody! Let’s hear it for the most talented enchantress in Carcosa!” Encouraged Robb Stark, inciting a roaring applause from the pavilion.

Quaithe bowed to her young noble audience, and later, after tempers subsided, the Red Witch promulgated by raising a finger:

“Only one story remains… Choose wisely, noble spectators.” There were complaints and several general pleading whimpers.

“Stop whining, you bunch of ingrates! I had only bargained with old Zick for “Two” stories, not “Three.” Lady Quaithe is already gracing us with one more show than we should have!” Howled the honourable paladin of the North guarding her honour. And to the masked woman’s concealed amusement, the audience quieted down.

“Which shall we choose? How about Jenny of Oldstone…? It’s a beautiful love story.” asked Myra Forrester causally, getting a chorus of ostracizing whistles from the young Ladies Mormont.

“The Sword of The Morning vs The Smiling Knight!” Jon Snow tried.

“Nha! We’ll have knight battles galore in a few days. No, I propose the Dance of Dragons!…. Come on, people, the Battle between Vaghar and Caraxes is legend!” So proposed without much success Eddard Karstark.

“We have seen a battle between dragons before, Karstark. We are from the North! We want a story from the North! So I propose the heroic battle of Long Lake! Lord Harmond Umber, “the Drunken Giant,” and Artos Stark, “the Implacable”, against the Wildlings armies led by the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Reymun Redbear! ” Umber Ulmen retorted, getting many more cheers.

“No! You were not present, but my sisters and I were. Therefore, I propose the Battle of Golden and Silver Snow!” Little Bear roared, gaining even more assent and a look of hatred from Theon Greyjoy… With frowning and slight concern from Quaithe, no one among those present cared for her, considering whether or not the enchantress knew said history or, more importantly, whether she could represent it…

But then came the undisputed winner, who stood up with quiet hesitation, proposing in a trembling voice:

“W-What do you think of a legendary battle that concerns all of Westeros, but which took place in the North…? I-I’m talking about the l-Legendary “Battle of Dawn,” the victory of the First Men and the Sons of the Forest against the Long Night…” Said Samwell of House Tarly, muting the diatribe.

“Why didn’t I think of that…?” Thought Daryn Hornwood aloud after a few seconds of silence.

“Why, yes, that’s right! The Battle of Dawn!!! Great thinking, Tarly!” Growled the Wolf Cub enthusiastically.

“I support Sam. I vote for the Battle of Dawn!” Jon Snow, “Battle of Dawn for me too!” young Eddard,

“Me too!”, “Battle of Dawn!!”, “Battle of Dawn!!!” a small chorus came to life in the pavilion, and Quaithe raised his hands in understanding, proclaiming to the delight of her audience:

“Mh mh mh… So, ‘Battle for the Dawn’ it is.” A blaze of jubilation arose.

“Yess!!!”, “Yeeahhh!!!”, “Hail to Lady Quaithe!!”

The Masked Witch raised a hand, moving it slowly in an arc, lowering the brightness and intensity of braziers, torches and candles scattered throughout the pavilion. The room darkened, as did the carefree joviality of boyhood…

“Sit and always remain by the Fire, young lords and ladies… For, as the Starks always like to remind us, ‘Winter is Coming’…” All the attention of the pavilion, Starks guards included, was totally turned toward her.

The Witch noticed with mild surprise that the lit candelabra next to Eddard Stark’s Bastard and the Tarly boy were more resilient than usual to her will.

It was the second imbalance of control over the Fire in the same hour…

Already in the first story, during the winged battle of the dragons, Quaithe overloaded the intensity of the fire jet too much, making it almost dangerous for the children. However, the Sorcerer King’s pupil never lost control over the Fire…

Shadow, Light and Fire were her favourite elements, and she was a Grand Sorceress of the Fourth Circle, one step away from breaking through into the pavilion of the Fifth. Control over trivial cantrips-level spells was the stuff of Initiate Apprentices.

‘Maybe it wasn’t just carelessness after all… There might be a Gifted.’ Thought the Witch, turning her attention back to the duo.

A ‘Gifted One’ was a rare individual born with a total affinity toward an element. A being with a natural resonance with the Plot, a gift that only the purest descendant lines of the Progenitor Gods had…

Rare were the cases. In the lands of the Magicians, where magical blood of level {Not Common} was the norm among the smallfolk, a “Gifted” was a being blessed by magic, with a magical Blood no lower than level {Pure}…

Only 1 in 100,000 was born with such a level of purity, but a “Gifted” was much more. It meant having 100% affinity with one type of element and direct high assonance with the nearest related elements, which, in the case of Fire, meant compatibility with Earth and Darkness of not less than 80%…

Many arcanists mistakenly believed Chai Duq to be a “Double Blessed,” referring to him as the “Ruler of Light and Shadow”, — but this was not so. The Sorcerer King had confided in her that he was not a “Gifted One”… His chosen affinity, Light, barely reached 90% affinity. The King in the Yellow was simply a hard-working and tireless genius, blessed with a level Blood [King], who had stubbornly honed his skills for centuries…

Quaithe barely achieved an 80% affinity with the Shadow element (her most compatible element) …

If a Gifted One was indeed hiding among those children, it was her duty to find him and report it to the Chief Sorcerer as soon as possible.

Quaithe intensified her control over the candle fire and stabilized the lumen to the same gradualness.

Her sensitivity to mana instinctively suggested that the imbalance in the Plot was more to the left…

Staring more intently at the child, with peculiar piercing grey eyes, intense raven black hair, and the long face characteristic of the Starks, Quaithe continued by turning more to the latter:

“And it is precisely when the sun sets in the midst of harsh Winter, Jon Snow, that the Night is darkest and full of Terrors…”

****

End Chapter.

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