The Red Comet hung high in the sky; this celestial phenomenon lasted for a long time, visible to almost everyone in the known world. In the Riverlands, a bloody war was underway.
"Ser Barristan, I have urgent intelligence to share with His Highness and need to interrupt you," Qyburn said, bowing apologetically.
"Then I will wait for Old Maester to finish your report," Ser Barristan naturally understood Qyburn's meaning. Qyburn, Barristan, and Arrow Maker were now considered Gendry's 'gray-haired alliance,' all deeply experienced elders.
The Old Knight guessed that it was probably something very secret, so he had Anguy and himself step back a bit, allowing Old Maester to speak with Gendry first.
"Your Highness, my research may be making progress," Qyburn whispered to Gendry. "If Gregor is brought over half-dead, he will be my best sample. He is big enough, strong enough, and he has been poisoned, so he won't die immediately. The poison Gregor took was a manticore venom treated with black magic, which is why it makes Gregor suffer in agony instead of dying instantly."
"That might work, but this matter, this matter requires extreme caution."
"Yes, Your Highness. I am very confident. After the red comet, I vaguely feel the power of magic has greatly increased," Qyburn said in a low voice.
"According to my intuition, the magic tide should arrive first, then the true dragon will hatch, and the hatching of the true dragon will further amplify the power of the magic tide."
"That should be the case. From what I understand, magic has perhaps always existed, but it has always been at a low ebb, so much so that people considered magic a joke, and only a very few could grasp fragments of it. But now the magic tide is arriving, and the abilities of sorcerers are greatly increasing."
"For example?"
"For example, the cow-witch Alys Rivers during the Dance of the Dragons, and most recently, Bloodraven. During their times, magic was already at a low ebb, but both seemed to possess exquisite magical attainments." The names of these two people were legendary, figures of many mysteries in Westeros.
"Alys Rivers, Bloodraven," Gendry listened carefully to Qyburn's statement.
"If Maester Marwyn were here, it would be wonderful. No one in The Citadel can surpass Marwyn in the study of magic. He possesses a valyrian steel chain, representing his profound knowledge in magic and occultism," Qyburn suddenly sighed.
"He should come, right?" Gendry said. "This person is so obsessed with magic; how could he miss a true dragon?"
"Indeed," Qyburn's old face broke into a smile. "He will come for the true dragon, sooner or later. And if he comes, he can also help you avoid some sorcerers' schemes. I will have Marwyn establish a new department."
"However, there is one thing I must particularly remind you, Your Highness. No ordinary warrior is your match, and I have taught you a great deal of knowledge about poisons, hidden weapons, and medicine. The only thing to worry about is those strange and peculiar magics. Previous sorcerers were like a rootless source, a treeless root, a group of Wights. But now magic is gradually strengthening, and you must also be careful of sorcerers' attacks..." Qyburn warned. "Especially your identity, Princess Daenerys's identity, and the existence of the true dragon, some sorcerers will covet you."
"I will," Gendry nodded. Qyburn's concerns were not wrong. Before the magic tide arrived, sorcerers were despised clowns. But after the resurgence of magic, the power of sorcerers had qualitatively improved. For example, the eerie Crows Eye, and The Red Witch beside Stannis.
"Is The Red Witch still on Dragonstone?"
"Yes, she seems to devoutly believe Stannis is the promised one," Qyburn said dismissively. "But I don't believe it. The Red Witch may have some abilities, no one can say for sure, otherwise Stannis wouldn't trust her so much. But prophecies are difficult to grasp, and their interpretations are sometimes vague and contradictory. It's very normal for a sorcerer to misinterpret a prophecy."
"The Red Witch choosing Lord Stannis also has a more practical consideration: Stannis's power is too small. If he wants to succeed, he might truly abandon the Seven Gods for The Red Witch," Gendry replied, this was a political consideration.
"In any case, be careful of this person," Gendry said.
"Yes, Your Highness," Qyburn said. "But there is another way to protect you from magical harm."
"You mean, the true dragon?"
"Precisely. Dragons are creations of magic, dragons are fire, dragons are miracles, and dragons possess powerful vitality. Ordinary illusions, humans naturally cannot discern, but a true dragon can perceive the truth."
"That makes sense," Gendry had to be convinced by this statement. In the original history, Daenerys was deceived by sorcerers in the House of the Undying, and it was the true dragon's fire that saved its master.
"However, after the true dragon hatched, do you feel any magical activity within your body, such as fire resistance, or the ability to manipulate fire?" Qyburn inquired.
"I do have a bit of fire resistance, but fire resistance is not fire immunity, so its effect is limited. As for manipulating fire, I do not currently possess such an ability," Gendry answered truthfully.
"The true dragon has just awakened; you don't need to rush," Qyburn said. "Since you already have the blood of the storm within you, then the True Dragon's Blood may also be further enhanced."
"Where do you believe magic comes from, Maester Qyburn?" Gendry asked Qyburn.
"I believe magic comes from bloodline and faith, either bloodline or faith," Qyburn stated his answer. "The ancient Valyrian Dragonlords were skilled in Fire Magic, the ancient rhoynar were skilled in Water Magic, the first men who worshipped the old gods also knew some magic, and the Children of the Forest even more so. And then there are the believers, the followers of the god of light. These magics are all different, but from what I understand, 'blood for fire, fire for blood,' the blood-Fire Magic of the Dragonlords is probably the strongest and most domineering in attack."
"So you believe I have the ability to control magic?" Gendry looked at Qyburn.
"Theoretically, I believe it's possible. You have multiple bloodlines: the storm, the Dragonlords, the rhoynar bloodline, and so on. Life is perhaps a flame, and only a vigorous flame can propel magic. However, having a bloodline doesn't mean you can activate magic, and magic isn't necessarily a good thing; it's blood and fire. Manipulating magic will inevitably come at a great cost."
Gendry nodded, "I believe so too."
"You know the possibilities. If you can comprehend these, you will be a true, unique king. However, magic is too profound. I still advise you to let it happen naturally and not force it. After all, House Targaryen didn't practice much magic and was mighty for a time."
"Hearing you say all this makes me feel omnipotent," Gendry smiled faintly. "Alright, Maester Qyburn, our discussion for today ends here."
"As you command," Qyburn bowed and then slowly departed, signaling Ser Barristan and Anguy to approach as he left.
Gendry recalled Qyburn's words: magic cannot be forced. Magic would consume vitality or demand other sacrifices, so unless he could ensure it wouldn't harm him, there was no point in deep study. The storm god represented power, the Valyrian Dragonlords represented blood and fire, though House Targaryen never truly mastered these. The rhoynar represented Water Magic and the will of the great rivers, and first men magic manifested as Skinchanging.
"Let's talk about the Vale again," Barristan and Anguy returned to their original spots.
"It's probably difficult for the Vale to send troops. Hoster intended to leverage the Vale's power by marrying off his daughter, but alas, his second daughter has never been particularly bright," Ser Barristan said gravely, a wise light in his eyes. "From what I know of Lady Lysa, that woman is quite mad. She worries about the young lord's health all day and dares not offend Lannister."
"It's probably more than that," Gendry said, catching Balerion as the black true dragon landed on his shoulder again. "Lady Lysa has always been Littlefinger's puppet."
"Littlefinger has been released. Queen Cersei cannot do without his eloquent tongue and financial talent. However, his movements are largely under our control," Qyburn said. They still had their chess pieces near Littlefinger.
"Yes, Littlefinger," a flash of inspiration struck Gendry. If Littlefinger's secrets were exposed, then the Vale should erupt, and that would be his opportunity. The Knights of the Vale had long been angry with Old Arryn for being too indulgent of Lady Lysa, allowing those who curried favor to rise.
"Old Knight, where does the Vale's military strength rank?" Anguy asked curiously. Anguy was tall and thin, with freckles and red hair, very young; indeed, he could only be considered a Child in front of Barristan.
"Roughly third, after The Reach and the Westerlands," Ser Barristan said. "The Reach has a suitable climate, the largest population, and is wealthy; it is the granary of Westeros, truly first. The Westerlands have gold mines, plus Duke Tywin's iron-fisted rule, having eliminated House Reyne and House Tarbeck, it can be said to be second. The third place should be the Vale. Although the Vale is surrounded by mountains and raided by wildlings, its interior has fertile black soil, wide and gentle rivers, and hundreds of lakes, large and small, shining like mirrors in the sun, making it rich in produce. Furthermore, the Vale is closer to the Free Cities, so its commerce is also good, more prosperous than the North."
"So, in that case, even if Stark sends troops, they will lose?" Anguy said.
"Not necessarily, Child," Ser Barristan said, looking at Anguy. "While army numbers and equipment are one aspect, the timing of deployment, the quality of generals, and the morale of soldiers also play a significant role. During the Dance of the Dragons, the North did not have an advantage in numbers or equipment, but they fought as if death meant nothing, and the direwolf force displayed the might of the Northmen. And when Duke Cregan gathered his men and marched south, the South had already been beaten into submission. I do not doubt the courage and fearlessness of the Northmen, but, but time has passed too quickly. After so many years of long summer, the population growth of the Northmen surely hasn't been as fast as that of the Green Lands, and the equipment advantage will also widen. So the Starks would have to incur several times the casualties to truly achieve victory. And now Robb Stark does not possess the abilities of his ancestors, facing a situation worse than Duke Cregan's. Before the Long Winter arrives, he is forced to march to save his father."
"An old person in the family is like a treasure," Gendry thought, looking at Ser Barristan. The Old Knight was, after all, a formidable veteran who had fought through entire wars, possessing both courage and strategy.
In the War of the Ninepenny Kings, Ser Barristan single-handedly charged into the Golden Company, successfully killing the last Blackfyre, Maelys the Monstrous, in single combat, ending the Blackfyre pretender's rebellion. During the Duskendale rebellion, Ser Barristan disguised himself as a masked beggar and approached Duskendale; before being discovered, he assassinated the guards on the walls, found his way to the dungeons, and rescued the Mad King. He was discovered while leading the king away, killing a pair of guards and Symon Hollard who tried to stop him, avenging Garwyn Goot of the Kingsguard. He then raced with the king to the stables, cutting his way through, and despite being shot in the chest with an arrow, rode furiously to escape Duskendale.
"In essence, it's about war potential, the ability to start and end wars," Gendry thought. In fact, the situation in the original timeline was somewhat similar to Ser Barristan's prediction: Robb could defeat the Westerlands several times, but one or two losses for the North would be fatal. The North and the Westerlands had vastly different resources, and Tywin's iron-fisted rule combined with the long summer further widened this gap.
"What about our Stormlands?" Anguy asked Barristan curiously. The Stormlands constantly suffered from heavy rains and strong winds from the Narrow Sea, making it a relatively small territory among the Seven Kingdoms. Its inland terrain was mostly rugged mountains, its coast mostly rocky, with vast and dense forests. Through these descriptions, one could imagine that the Stormlands were also typically poor and harsh lands, with scarce resources.
"Our Stormlands warriors are naturally outstanding, like the rain and wind, like the mad storm, and the former Durrendon Kings. The fiercest might be the warriors of The Marches, who have a talent for swordsmanship, and their longbows are also very famous. However, our Stormlands' population and territory are indeed smaller, making it difficult to support too large a domain," Ser Barristan said.
Gendry deeply agreed. Although the Stormlands had a harsh environment, its people were quite formidable fighters. During the ancient Seven Kingdoms period, the Stormlands under House Durrendon also had a period of prosperity, engaging in fierce battles with The Three Rivers people, the Ironborn, the Knights of The Reach, and the Dornish.
King Arlan I the Avenger cleared all obstacles, expanding his domain to the Blackwater Rush and the source of the Mander River. His great-grandson, King Arlan III, even crossed the Blackwater Rush and the Trident River, bringing the entire Riverlands under his control, and at one point even planted the crowned stag banner on the shores of the Sunset Sea.
However, after Arlan III's death, House Durrendon inevitably fell into decline, with rebellions erupting everywhere, as the power of the Stormlands could not sustain such a vast kingdom. The Stormlands people were defeated by the Ironborn in the north, withdrawing from the Riverlands. In the south, they were pressured by the Dornish breaking through the Boneway, and The Reach King also seized the opportunity to send Knights from The Reach to reclaim lost territories. Kings changed, wars frequently broke out, and the Storm Kingdom's territory steadily shrank. Argilac the Arrogant, after being crowned with the stag crown, temporarily halted the decline.
"To restore the glory of the storm, it is my bounden duty."
...Somewhere by a river in the Riverlands, "Our battle standard is also tattered," Lord Beric said angrily. They were now truly in dire straits, forced to engage in guerrilla warfare in the Riverlands. This was Lord Beric's sense of justice, but it was certainly tough.
At that time, when they charged out of King's Landing to capture Gregor, the royal crowned stag flew at the top of the highest banner, while the House Stark's direwolf of the north and Lord Beric's forked lightning were hung on shorter poles. How splendid they looked then, like knights in a bard's song.
Swords clashed, torches flickered, banners danced in the wind; warhorses neighed, gates were pulled open, and the golden light of the rising sun slanted through the iron bars of the gate. The taxi soldiers of House Beric wore black armor, and the Winterfell soldiers wore silver armor and long gray cloaks, looking valiant.
"Lord Beric, stop complaining! The god of light, the god of light seems to have heard my call!" Thoros shouted urgently, followed by the "resurrected" Northman, Elin.
Lord Beric stared wide-eyed at Elin, startled. There was a gaping hole in Elin's chest, a wound left by a Longspear, and though the hole remained, the man was indeed alive.
"What, what did you do?" Beric couldn't help but ask.
"After Elin's torn chest stopped beating, I gave the lad the merciful kiss of the Lord and sent him on his way—filling his mouth with fire, blowing it into his body, through his throat, lungs, and heart, straight to his soul. This is called 'the last kiss,' and I've seen old priests give it many times when the Lord's servants died. I've performed it once or twice myself; it's a skill all Red Priests must master. But I've never seen fire injected into a corpse make a dead man tremble, let alone open his eyes," Thoros couldn't help but say.
"It was not I who resurrected him, Lord Beric, it was the Lord's divine power. rhllor did not want him to die. Life is warmth, warmth comes from fire, fire belongs to the Lord, and the Lord alone possesses it," Thoros prayed devoutly.
Beric was stunned for a long moment, then he also spoke. "Praise the god of light."
Only the resurrected Elin looked bewildered, unaware of what had happened.
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