"Awoo... Awoo..."
The piercing cries of gulls cut through the morning mist, drawing Sarene slowly from the depths of sleep. She stirred, her beautiful violet eyes fluttering open as she sat up. A cascade of shimmering silver-gold hair tumbled over her shoulders, resting against the delicate lace of her nightgown.
In the soft glow of the early sun, her silhouette was a vision of Valyrian grace—a masterpiece of form and light—though it was a sight reserved only for the other girls sharing the dormitory.
"Morning, Sister Sarene!"
"Morning, Acacia," Sarene replied, her voice as warm and soothing as a spring breeze. "Are you back from attending to Lord Jon already?"
Acacia, a girl whose face was dusted with light freckles, gave a small, dejected sigh. Despite the minor blemishes, she was quite proud of her curves, which she had hoped might catch a certain commander's eye. "I am. He isn't like those other high-born lords, and he's certainly nothing like the pirates. He insists on dressing himself. I mostly just end up tidying the room and bringing his breakfast."
"Aha! Our little Acacia is lovesick!"
"Careful now! Or Ghost might take a snap at your backside!"
"Don't go following Rose's example," another girl chimed in, giggling. "She tried to sneak into his chambers last night and nearly died of fright when that wolf stared her down. She almost jumped out of her skin!"
"Hmph! You all just love to tease me!"
As the morning progressed, the room filled with the chatter of waking women. The topic of their mysterious savior was a constant fire that kept them warm.
"Enough, everyone," Sarene's voice rose gently, cutting through the playfulness. "Lord Jon is likely waiting for us. We must finish our lessons today. His time is far too precious to waste."
The room fell quiet. Sarene held a position of quiet authority among the former bed slaves of Lys. Most of them shared the blood of the Free City, and in Sarene—with her literacy and her poise—they saw not just a leader, but a protective elder sister.
"Sister Sarene," Acacia asked, watching Sarene neatly fold her bedding. "Why are we learning all this? Lord Jon has those magical potions. Remember the man who was run through by a wooden stake? One dose and he was fine. Why do we need to study 'wound management'?"
Sarene didn't look up from her task. "You saw what he did before the potion was even used, didn't you?"
Acacia paused, her eyes widening as the memory clicked into place. "Oh! I see! You mean... what we're learning is how to keep them alive long enough for the magic to work?"
"Exactly," Sarene said, leading the group toward the second-floor hall. "Lord Jon promised that once we master these techniques, he will entrust us with the medicine so we can save the soldiers on the field."
The Pirate Fortress was a grim structure. The first floor served as the barracks, the dungeons, and the larders. The second floor, however, opened into a wide hall, flanked by the master chambers, the treasury, and the armory. This was where Jon and his inner circle resided, and where he now conducted his classes.
As they entered the hall, they found Jon already seated on the throne. Before him, resting on a long table, was a strange, jagged stone.
Sarene's breath hitched. Her pupils contracted as if she were staring at a monster from a nightmare. Years of training as a bed slave allowed her to mask her shock behind a veil of calm, but internally, her mind was a tempest of recognition and fear.
"Lord Jon!" the girls called out in unison.
Jon looked up, the dark cloud over his features dissipating at the sight of them. His foul mood had been born of the object on the table: a dragon egg.
After discovering Brynden Rivers' hidden cache, Jon had been ecstatic. The egg should have been the crown jewel of his haul. Yet, while the system could analyze gold, silver, and ancient relics, it remained stubbornly silent regarding the egg. He had expected it to be recognized as 'Dragonstone' or a quest item, but touching it yielded nothing.
For days, he had subjected the egg to intense flame, hoping to stir the life or power within. It remained as cold and inert as a common rock. He had even considered tossing it into the island's active volcano, held back only by the fear of destroying the priceless fossil.
Is it true? he wondered bitterly. Does it really take a sacrifice—and a specific aunt of mine—to pull off the miracle?
This system is useless when it counts, he grumbled internally. If it won't sell me Dragonstone, maybe it's because the magic in this world hasn't fully woken up yet.
He thought of the Red Comet. In the histories he knew, the comet's arrival was synonymous with the return of dragons. Whether Daenerys had summoned it with blood magic or it was simply a celestial coincidence, the timing was tight. The White Walkers wouldn't wait for his eggs to hatch. He knew the dead could breach the Wall; he knew the Night King's shadow was lengthening.
"Lord Jon? Lord Jon!"
The chorus of voices pulled him back to the present. The medical corps was standing ready.
"My apologies," Jon said, standing up. "I was miles away."
"It is no matter, Lord Jon," Sarene said, stepping forward. The faint, clean scent of her drifted toward him even at this distance. "You have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Shall we begin the final lesson?"
"Right. Today we finish the curriculum," Jon replied, shaking off his distractions. "And as a reward, I'll be handing out the first batches of medicinal salves to those who pass."
He noticed a flicker of something in Sarene's eyes—a momentary lapse in her composure—but it vanished before he could parse it.
Jon descended the dais and approached the wooden mannequin the girls had dragged into the center of the room. With the Stepstones relatively quiet and his soldiers' training settling into a routine, he had focused entirely on this unit. He knew the cost of war. He remembered that even a king like Robert Baratheon—or his "uncle" Eddard—could be undone by a poorly treated wound or an infection.
"Everyone, step back," Jon instructed. "Today, I'm going to demonstrate how to ligate and dress a traumatic amputation. We'll be using the dummy to show where the pressure points lie."
Previously, he had used a common belt-knife for his demonstrations. But today, he decided to test something else.
With a thought, he reached into the void. In a shimmer of distorted air, a slender, dark blade appeared in his hand. The ripples of Valyrian steel caught the torchlight like flowing smoke.
"Gods..."
"A miracle... he summons steel from the air!"
The girls gasped and cheered, their awe at the "divine weapon" fueling Jon's ego for a fleeting second. But when he glanced at Sarene, he saw no cheers. She looked as though she were seeing a ghost. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes fixed on the blade—Dark Sister—with unmistakable horror.
Before he could ask her what was wrong, a cold, synthetic chime rang in his skull.
[Quest Log Updated...][Main Scenario: "The King's Landing Expansion" is now active.]