Alaric stepped out of the humid enclosed gardens and walked until he reached the wide, open-air training yard carved into the southern cliff face of the Ivory Cloud Palace.
The morning breeze coming off the Blackwater Rush was cool, cutting through the lingering heat of the bathhouse. He was finally alone.
He stopped near the edge of the white marble parapet, resting his hands on the stone railing, and pulled up his interface.
A translucent blue screen flickered to life in his field of vision.
[Current MP Balance: 3,420 MP]
Alaric stared at the number, his jaw tightening slightly. A month ago, right after the battle for the city, he had been sitting on over thirty-one thousand points. But securing his absolute grip on the capital hadn't been cheap.
Summoning the Ivory Cloud Palace directly out of the earth had drained twenty thousand points in a matter of seconds. Spawning twenty elite Black Night Maids to completely replace the Red Keep's compromised servant staff had eaten the rest.
He was practically broke. and there was a complication he needed to sort out first.
Alaric looked down at the sprawling city below.
"System," Alaric said quietly, his voice carrying over the wind.
The blue screen blinked, awaiting a query.
"If I establish a Sovereign Bond with a new target, is there a way to manually block the passive ability share? I need the MP and the bloodline traits, but I want to stop the target from gaining any system-granted powers."
Alaric waited, watching the translucent text shift and rewrite itself across the screen as the System processed the request.
The translucent blue text flickered, erased itself, and rapidly reformed into a new set of system prompts.
[Query Acknowledged.]
[Passive ability sharing is a default setting, not a requirement. Host possesses manual override authority. To block the transfer of passive abilities, simply state the target's name and the command 'Restrict Passives' prior to bond initiation.]
Alaric stared at the floating words for a long moment. He let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face. It was really that simple. He had been overthinking the mechanics for weeks when all he had to do was tell the System no.
He swiped his hand through the air, dismissing the blue interface entirely.
That completely changed his options. He could take Myrcella tonight, secure the Lannister bloodline payout, and this passive block feature would be for his Dornish problem.
He could finally take the Sand Snakes to his bed without turning them into supernaturally gifted assassins. In fact, it opened up a highly profitable experiment.
He had never established a Sovereign Bond with three women from the exact same bloodline before. If the System stacked the rewards, draining the Martell line three times over could result in a massive payout.
Alaric leaned his forearms against the cool marble railing, looking out over the sprawling city.
Once he had the points from the Lannister girl and the Dornish women, the waiting game was over. He wouldn't need to sit behind his walls anymore.
A sharp, cold pressure suddenly pulsed at the base of Alaric's skull. It wasn't a threat. It was the familiar, static hum of a System-granted telepathic link opening across the continent.
"My King," a smooth, distorted voice echoed directly into his mind.
Alaric didn't turn around. He kept his eyes on the horizon, leaning comfortably against the marble railing. "Report, Dae."
"The Iron Islands are secured," his shadow commander relayed, the mental connection completely clear despite the massive distance between them. "The Greyjoy fleet is broken. Pyke has surrendered. I have captured the daughter, Yara Greyjoy. She is in chains."
Alaric's smirk widened. The Greyjoys had always been a wild card, a nuisance waiting to raid the western shores while the main armies were busy bleeding each other in the south. Now, that threat was completely neutralized, and another highly valuable bloodline was sitting right in his lap.
"Good job, Dae," Alaric thought back, his mental tone steady and authoritative. "You handled it faster than I expected."
"They did not know how to fight what they could not see," Dae replied bluntly.
"And Winterfell?" Alaric asked, his thoughts shifting to the North. "Is the Robb boy still under?"
"Yes," Dae confirmed. "Robb Stark remains in a deep slumber. The magic keeping him asleep is completely stable. "
"Release your magic on him," Alaric ordered. "But you don't need to stay up there to monitor it. Pack up your vanguard. Sail straight for King's Landing. I have a new front opening up soon, and I need you here."
"It will be done, My King," Dae said.
The cold pressure at the base of his skull vanished as the mental link suddenly closed. Alaric let out a slow breath, pushing himself off the stone railing.
The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the open-air training yard of the Ivory Cloud Palace. Alaric stood near the weapon racks, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
True to his word, Arya Stark marched into the yard exactly at noon. She wasn't wearing a dress. She wore a simple leather tunic, dark breeches, and carried a standard, castle-forged shortsword.
She looked exhausted from her month of grueling physical conditioning, but her grey eyes burned with a fierce, uncompromising fire.
Alaric didn't offer a greeting. He simply turned his head toward the edge of the yard, where a heavily armored Tyrell knight was running through standard shield drills.
"You," Alaric called out, his voice echoing off the white marble walls. "Get over here."