Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or A song of Ice and Fire.
The Phoenix and the Griffin
Chapter 22: Blood mine
Knight, inventor, archaeologist, Leo grinned at the roles he had taken in recent times. He looked over the map of the west, drinking water from his pouch. Six weeks had passed since he entered Quenten Banefort's service. The man had been impressed by Leo's skills during the melee, but hadn't offer Leo employment straight away. It took a duel between Leo and Lorent Lorch to impress Lord Quenten enough to offer him employment. Lorent was a cousin to Amory Lorch, a knight whom was killed after being captured by Fausten Amell and given to the Martells of Dorne. Nothing was confirmed, but many westerners believed that Amory had been tortured before his death as a type of penance for his killing the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. That wasn't to say the west missed the knight. Before they fought, Lorent remarked to Leo that he felt no love for his kin, whom had dishonoured the term knight.
But still the duel took place, all because Lorent denied repeatedly Quenten's demand for his daughter to marry Quenten's son Loren. Lorent had only a daughter, refusing to remarry after his wife passed in child birth. The girl deserved better than Loren, whom was a fat creature with no whit or strength. And Leo actually liked Lorent more than Quenten. But he needed money and resources, and the Lorch's were a failing house. He enjoyed the fight, Lorent was a good swordsman, and Leo did not celebrate when he killed him. He didn't even raise a glass with Quenten when the Lorch girl became a Banefort woman. To her credit though she held a certain poise and dignity when she was dragged away for the bedding ceremony. Leo suspected that the Lorch's would still rule over their lands, that Lya Banefort nee Lorch would rule in the place of her fool of a husband.
So Leo believed that in a sense he had done her a favour, or him killing her father had at least benefitted her in a way. Once she got over the initial grief she would rise and become more powerful than she would have as Lorent's cattle to sell. Since joining Quenten's employ, Leo excelled himself not as a duellist or a bodyguard, but as a scholar. He pointed out to Quenten lands in Lorch territory that was rich for mining, not just for metals but other such things that the citadel might enjoy studying. A few Maestars were sent but Leo was in charge of the excavations, he proved himself to the men by leading them in the dirt. The bulk of the digging was done and the elven ruins had been found.
"Underground, I always thought the elves made their home in trees," Quenten muttered.
He walked over to Leo's tent with a cup of wine in his hand.
"Perhaps the trees were simply castles, some form of architecture lost to us," Leo smirked as Quenten scoffed.
All of the lords looked down on the elves, yet Leo knew they wouldn't hesitate to learn something from their secrets. They adored the discovery of methods of shaping metal, stone and perhaps even cloth, because nobles always liked to wear even more elaborate clothes and jewellery. But what Leo sought was methods of shaping wood. After drinking with Quenten, he searched the elven ruins and carefully looked over the dusty scrolls, making sure not to break anything. His communal with the demons of the fade afforded him the answers, the locations of the old kings of the continent and the elven ruins they decimated when they built their castles and lands. In their haste to build new things, the old kings lost sight of the value of keeping the old knowledge.
"Such contraptions, what are they for?" some of the men asked.
Of course they could read, but they couldn't look at a picture and see the true value of it. Where they saw scribbles on paper, Leo saw designs that could be used, tunnels and walls for diverting the course of rivers. He smiled as he realised he found what he had needed.
"So did you hear about the elven ruins found in the North?" he heard one of the scholars ask.
"The savages buried it again after some noble children were lost in it, apparently the same thing happened in the South, though at least those flower loving nobles had the sense to keep them intact," said another.
Leo raised his eyebrows, intrigued by the news and its implications. He grinned, it would be an interesting chat with his shadows when they next met.
Northern Westeros
Warden of the North and lord of Winterfell Eddard Stark looked down at his men. Rodrick usually would have been at the castle, as master at arms he had been responsible for training Ned's children in the use of weapons. A good and loyal warrior whom had served since Ned himself was a boy. Ned trusted the words of honest men, of honourable and good men. He knew that Rodrick wasn't a liar, and even if she had reacted with anger before hand, Ned knew Catelyn believed Rodrick's story as well. Rodrick ran back to Winterfell with a fear in his eyes Ned had never seen before. And he recounted to them what had happened.
'Magic, true magic, like in old Nan's tale, which means the stories of the first men and the children of the forest are true, what else could be true?' Ned wondered.
Catelyn screamed at Rodrick, accused him of abandoning Robb and Brandon. Not once did she worry about Jon and Theon, in fact she even tried to say Jon must have been responsible in some way. They had discussed Jon joining the night's watch, but Ned wanted them to wait. He wanted Jon to come out of his shell, live a bit before spending the rest of his days on the wall. Benjen served with distinction, and Ned had no doubt that Jon would do so as well. He was good with a sword, better than he had been at that age, and though he was quiet he knew just as much as Robb when it came to the North's history and the necessities of command. But Benjen had his regrets, Ned could tell that much. He wanted Jon to go into the watch with a clear conscious. Or rather he would have preferred that Jon walk a path that led him to happiness, and the fulfilment of his potential.
"No sign of any bodies my lord," Jory said, walking up with a few of the others who had searched the ruins.
They looked as if they had seen seven hells; Ned knew the faces of those whom were afraid. He'd encountered cowards, men incapable of fighting, unfit for the battlefield. Some would fall onto superstitions, claiming a particular warrior was a demon. During the Greyjoy rebellion, Ned questioned those whom claimed that Damion Amell had attacked them. They called him a monster, but Ned knew they were only awed and terrified by the incredible anger and strength that Damion must have showed that day. The men also claimed that some kind of shadow had fought alongside Damion that day, a shadow with red eyes. For years Ned regarded that with scepticism, dismissed it as a trick of the exhaustion of battle, or an excuse as to why one man had killed dozens of men. He had punished only a few men back then, there just didn't seem to be any sense in adding more death to a rebellion that had already cost so many lives, and it had been Ned's assumption that Damion had killed all those whom had attempted to plunder or rape the Iron islanders anyway.
"Bury it deep, so that no one comes upon it again," Ned said.
No bodies, which meant there was hope. But Winterfell needed a Stark, and Rickon was simply too young. He loved all his children, yet he could say undoubtedly that Arya was the strongest in Winterfell at the moment. She was certainly less optimistic or naïve than Sansa, but still she didn't know enough of the world or life. Arya denied her place in the world, refusing to call herself a lady. Sansa embraced the possibility of marrying a lord, finding love and having children.
"We still haven't found anything my lord, but we will continue searching," Jory said.
"Have your men continue the search, we will return to Winterfell," Ned said.
They returned and saw Catelyn still at the gate; her tears dry on her cheeks.
"Why have you returned? Have you not found anything?" she asked desperation in her voice.
She clung onto Ned as he climbed off of his horse, wrapping his arm around her for comfort.
"We have sealed the ruins, if there truly is danger there then no one shall fall victim to it," Ned said.
"But could answers be lying there? Could some way to find them be there?" Catelyn asked.
"I thought you didn't believe in magic," Ned said.
"You were right, Rodrick is no liar, he has served your family faithfully for many years and I know he loves the boys as if they were his own, they never would have come to harm with him. His story is true, it must be true," Catelyn explained.
"Magic, if it is true then we can only hope for the children."
"Lord Stark," Maester Luwin called out to the lord and lady, walking from the castle and holding a parchment. "My lord, my lady, a raven arrived from the capital, an announcement from the king, children are missing in the South, ruins were found near Highgarden," he explained.
"Whose children are missing?" Ned asked.
King's Landing
"Dickon Tarly, Samwell Tarly, sons of Randyll Tarly, Mira Forrester, daughter of Gregor Forrester, Sera Durwell, daughter of Sebastian Durwell, Elinor Tyrell, daughter of Theodore Tyrell, Alla Tyrell, daughter of Leo Tyrell, Megga Tyrell, daughter of Olymer Tyrell and Margaery Tyrell, daughter of Mace Tyrell," Varys listed the names to the small council.
Even for such a situation, Robert was not present; Stannis cursed his brother for his incompetence and ignorance of the realm's needs. Every other member of the small council was present. Varys lowered the parchment he read, a sombre look in his eyes.
"All had disappeared at an elven ruin discovered on Highgarden's grounds, shards of a mirror were found, a few pots, a few scrolls, but no trail for anyone to follow," the spymaster said.
"Have you heard anything from any of your spies across the country?" Jon asked.
"Lord Tyrell was fortuitous in providing descriptions of what all the children wore on that particular day," Varys began.
Stannis resisted the urge to scoff; he knew in fact it must have been Willas or Olenna Tyrell whom provided the descriptions. The oath was credited with his defeat, but Stannis knew the man enough to know he was probably still crying over the absence of his daughter and kin.
"These and descriptions of the physical appearances of the missing children have been provided to all of my birds, nothing concerning the ruins came to my attention until recently," Varys explained.
"We will need to make announcements across the realm, a promise of gold as well, someone amongst the small folk might have seen something," Jon stated.
"How do we determine the value of our noble children? The treasury may not be able to bear the cost, but I can secure loans if necessary," Petyr explained.
"Do so, set the price to a thousand gold dragons," Jon said.
"I would need to calculate a price for each of the children, as cold as it seems my lord if someone delivers information that leads to the discovery of just one child; the price is simply not worth it."
"You may feel differently Lord Baelish if you had children of your own," Stannis said.
"We should do whatever we can to find them, I'll send out riders from Storm's end, I know the Tyrells, if I were to go to Highgarden I could assist them better from there," Renly explained.
"Whilst the recovery of the children should be a top priority, ruins have been discovered, a slew of elven ruins were discovered in the West, the Citadel has taken an interest in studying such ruins," Pycelle spoke up from the end of the table.
"The presence of these ruins would draw in those nomadic Dalish elves," Renly said.
"The greatest danger in that is the Dalish coming into conflict with the Maestars, we should try to negotiate both groups working together to study the ruins," Stannis explained.
"Forgive me lord Stannis, but surely it should be up to each individual lord to decide whether Dalish are allowed onto their lands," Pycelle said.
He quivered slightly under Stannis's gaze; he veined the old man act well. And he hid his challenges well too under the veil of being elderly and weak, and also kind. Yet Pycelle was anything but kind.
"Perhaps a general order amongst the kingdoms should be made; the Meadow has opened its borders to the Dalish, things have been quite peaceful and from what I understand both Dalish and Meadow natives profit from the knowledge that comes from the excavation of elven ruins," Varys explained.
"I sympathise with the elves I truly do, their history is lost, but that is precisely what it is, history, those lands are under the rule of the families of Westeros, we must allow when possible the autonomy of those lords or else the land falls into chaos," Jon explained.
"Chaos may be the result if we come into conflict with the Dalish," Stannis said.
"We'd need not fear the Dalish, savages with bows and arrows," Renly scoffed, shaking his head.
"And what would you know about the Dalish?"
The atmosphere of the small council chamber changed. All of the masters stood up as their king entered. Robert had crumbs in his beard, a wine spillage on his shirt but he was still very much King of the seven kingdoms. He did not have the eyes of a whoring drunkard, but the eyes of a warrior, akin to his expression when in battle. And he walked towards Renly, looking down at his brother as if scolding a soldier under his command.
"A seldom known fact is that Dalish clans allied with the king of the meadow, Aegon couldn't take the 'ideal kingdom'. The king of the meadow and his hooded advisor let Aegon have their kingdom on a whim, and since then clashes with the Dalish have ended in massacres. The Dalish have had seldom reason to approach us, yet now they have a reason, how long before more clans come? They're organised, they wear armour and you'll never find a better archer," Robert explained.
"But we still outnumber them your grace," Renly said.
"The only thing you've led in your life are those pansy balls of yours, war is very, very different from the jousts you watch little brother. Clearly you've forgotten what I've told you, five or one?"
"One," Renly lowered his head as Robert walked to his chair at the table.
"One army with one leader, united under one purpose. Our purpose died with the mad king, the Dalish will have one purpose and they'll be able to agree on one leader and one plan of attack. Now we've got as many armies as there are men with gold in their purse, and everybody wants something different. The Faith doesn't want the elves bringing heretic gods onto our shores, and each lord wants something different from making friends with the Dalish, to keeping them off of their lands or just simply massacring them. The Targaryens are gone, I will not lose the seven kingdoms to a war we could have avoided," the king explained.
"Your grace," Jon said, catching Robert's attention.
The hand whispered to the king, offering alternative wisdom as always. Yet as Stannis listened, he wondered if Jon was making the best choice he possibly could.
"We must allow the lords to have the autonomy of their borders, allow them this control and they will not forget it, the Mad King took that autonomy from them," he reminded Robert.
"Stannis, Renly, you'll allow the Dalish to pass over your borders, this should encourage the other shits to do the same. The same will be done for the fingers," he pointed to Baelish, whom nodded his head.
"I have never held anything against the elves your grace and I mean no offence to the Maestars of the Citadel when I say there will be no greater aid in excavating those ruins than the scholars of the elves," he said.
"Scholars, intellect and knowing how to read, this does not make them any greater than the Maestars, our chains are symbols of the knowledge we have mastered," Pycelle explained.
"No one questions that Grand Maestar, nor does anyone question your own knowledge and wisdom. I too will have the lords of the Vale open their borders for the Dalish, let us hope the lords of Westeros have the wisdom to follow our example," Jon explained.
Weeks passed and Leo had carried artefacts and weapons out of multiple ruins. Quenten presented his discoveries from the first of the ruins discovered to Lord Tywin. He left Leo in the former Lorch territories, so that he could take credit for the discoveries himself. Leo didn't mind, he had the patience to wait for his moment. What with Quenten away, and his son celebrating his new lordship, it gave Leo the chance to seek the Manticore. In the dead of night he walked into the ruins, dug up the red lyrium shards and used them to invoke the magic he needed. He called forth the ghostly apparitions of the Lorch ancestry, whom took the form of the black Manticores that the Lorch used for their heraldry.
Of course these Manticores were those insect like creatures, some mutation of a scorpion. They were not the truly powerful Manticores of distant lands, creatures that possessed the bodies of lions and heads of men. The little creatures skittered around Leo before disappearing. When he came back up he found Quenten's daughter in law waiting, holding a jar of wine and two cups. Her name was Igraine, named after the mother of the legendary king of knights. And she was as intelligent as Leo thought she was.
"You're using my good father," it was not an accusation or a question.
Nor did she seem particularly bothered by it.
"All knights use their lord, all people use one another in order to climb high," Leo said, taking short sips of the wine.
"So you acknowledge that Quenten uses you as well, that Lord Tywin perhaps knows that Quenten did not have the wit to find these ruins?" she asked.
"Are you implying my lord is unintelligent?"
"He knows how to rule, he knows the politics of the game, he knows the importance of my union to his son and a grandson whom can one day rule on his behalf or at least with his name. There is a foolishness in those South to us, those whom believe that Tywin is the only wise one amongst the Lannisters, the only wise one in the west," Igraine explained.
"Oh I don't believe the West is full of fools, just as I know the South isn't filled with feeble knights playing at being warriors, just as I suspect the North isn't filled with brutes," Leo explained.
She poured another cup, and Leo drank unafraid of any poison there might be. Why be afraid when the deadliest poison already flowed through his veins? Though those whom suffered the blight weren't completely immune to poisons. Leo took his chances, just a she suspected Igraine was taking her chances. That's what even the best laid plans were, gambles, you were gambling because you were assuming that your opponent knew less than you. Not what they confirmed, but what they could figure out for themselves.
"My father was a good man, but too prideful, there would have been advantages to marrying me off. But no, he needed someone worthy of having me," she said, tilting the contents of her cup down her throat and scowling.
"A relatively rich family with a long known name, you can do worse that the Baneforts," Leo huffed.
"I can do better was my father's logic, then you killed him," Igraine kept her eyes on Leo as she drank.
"I did, after he insulted my lord, but personally I would have just brushed it off, or offered an even greater insult," Leo shrugged.
"Indeed, honour was a very real thing to my father, he insulted my uncle for his actions against Elia Martell and her children," Igraine said.
"Of course he did, for his honour," Leo chuckled.
"Do you not believe the same thing?" Igraine asked.
"I believe that Amory Loch was a weakling, because his greatest achievement in life was killing a little girl," Leo said.
"To be fair, it was a life lord Fausten Amell cut short," Igraine said.
"Well, I'm not optimistic that he would have achieve anything, you should get back to your husband my lady, I should get back to work," Leo said.
He finished his cup and set it down. Just as he walked past her however, the woman smirked.
"My lord husband will be most displeased that you went into the ruins without his permission," she said.
"Technically I had permission from his father," Leo retorted.
"Technically that was with others, under the light of the day, it would have been easy for you to take a treasure in the night," she matched back.
"I could argue against it!"
"Or I could tell you that you forced yourself on me when drunk," she said.
"You were slow girl; I didn't really drink as much as it appeared. Besides men may get the punishment, but women are shamed for it, as if the rape was their fault somehow," Leo explained.
"True Ser Leo, but I suspect the trouble of it all is something you wish to avoid correct?" Igraine asked.
"Oh so we come to the bargain, what favour should I grant you?" Leo inquired, turning to Igraine.
She had undone her hair, letting her dark locks flow onto her shoulders.
"Nothing too great, I simply wish to have you as a friend Ser Leo, so we may do favours for one another every so often," she said as she approached him.
"What favour would you ask of me now?" Leo asked.
"A simple price, one kiss from a true man," she whispered.
"What would a kiss win me beyond a lie and potential trouble?"
"The people of this land are mine, not my husband's, spies, mercenaries and my friendship," she stated.
"It sounds tempting, reasonable too," he caressed her cheek.
Igraine sharply grabbed Leo's wrist, looking him in the eyes.
"As if you were kissing the love of your life," she said and the statement caught him off guard.
She was a beauty, he didn't deny that. But in place of her tan and dark locks he saw pale skin and a mess of fire like hair. Closing his eyes, he pulled her into a kiss that took him back to the moment he first kissed Kira. Raw passion merged with the deepest of affection and respect. Both were in control, one of his hands on the small of her back whilst hers rested on his shoulders.
As the lady of the land and the knight kissed, the spy of lord Quenten gasped. She had served her ladyship faithfully and justified spying on her to be an act of loyalty. For in her eyes she saw loyalty to the Baneforts as loyalty also to Igraine. Just as the girl was about to run though, a black shadow slammed into her. Omega scratched the girl across the face, before sinking her teeth into her throat.
Igraine moaned as she drew her lips away from Leo's, her eyes still closed.
"Incredible, she must be a great woman," she whispered.
"Not really, I could say the same for him," Leo smirked.
"He wasn't, but he was my man, and my honourable father had him sent to the wall to die on a flimsy charge of thievery," Igraine said.
The anger in her voice and her inner strength should have been things Leo found attractive. It wasn't that she wasn't, she just wasn't Kira. Leo suspected the same could be said of him in the eyes of the lady. She extended her hand to him and when Leo took it to kiss it, she instead shook his hand. Again he smiled; she was a woman of strength indeed.
Highgarden
Margaery was loved amongst the people of Highgarden, she knew how to earn their affections through minimal effort. Not that the work wasn't hard in itself, but those whom were gifted in deception would always have an easier time of it than those who were not. Garlan was honest and upfront, a true knight and a true warrior, but of course he hid his strength and skills through the accomplishments of his brother, 'a summer knight' some might dismiss him as. But when they discovered Garlan Tyrell's worth as a commander and a soldier, then they would think differently. Loras showed off, but had the honesty and valour that was expected of a knight, he was chaste unlike what others would claim. It was all to conceal what others would have deemed an impossible love, an unholy love in the eyes of many faiths. The young knight also concealed a great anger and quick temper too.
Mace Tyrell, an oaf, the man who thought himself a great warrior. Yet he had his ambitions and he knew who to use to reach those ambitions. Margaery, loved by all of Highgarden, she whom read stories to orphans and gave coins to people on the street. Yet, she had never so much as looked at a man dying from illness.
Olenna Tyrell nee Redwyne, the matriarch, whom could have married a Targaryen but chose a Tyrell for the power such a marriage offered. She was intelligent, more so than her husband and son, but there was an arrogance to her. She truly believed that she was the head of the family, the brain of the Tyrell, the true ruler.
Willas was aware of all his family members' faults, and his own in particular. He was reminded of those faults every time he walked into a room and saw people's eyes as they looked at his leg brace and cane. His training of horses and hawks was not just some lordly hobby, it was training. In truth Willas scoffed every time he saw his grandmother, scoffed every time she lorded over others.
"Margaery, my Margaery, we must find her, send messages to every castle, every lord in the South, we must find her," Mace said.
Olenna was stoic, she had her spies. Willas had another method to reach help. He wrote a letter.
My dear friend
It may, or may not have come to your attention that my sister and a number of other noble children of the south have gone missing. This coincides with the discovery of an elven ruin.
For as knowledgeable as the Maestars of the citadel are, they have continually denied the practical existence of magic.
We are in need of one whom is knowledgeable in both elven history and magic.
You asked of me a service in exchange for your aid, now I ask for that aid.
From your friend in the South.
Revion scrunched up the letter and threw it to the fire. Selene rose from the bed, looking up at Revion with concern.
"News from Thedas?" she asked.
"No, not yet, this time it's from the South," he said.
"But it's too early," she rubbed her eyes and pushed the blanket against her chest.
"Don't worry, the plan is still advancing as expected, but I'll be sure to send some much needed help Willas's way, I can only imagine how Dayk is feeling as well," Revion explained.
"He is strong, he will survive this," Selene placed her hand on Revion's chest.
"Of course, in many ways he is stronger than I, he's no longer the child that clung to mother's leg or the foolish lover of women," Revion said.
He took his quill and paper and began to write a letter of his own.
Leo wiped the dirt off his hands and ran his sleeve across his forehead. Manual labour had a way of building him up, but also tiring him perhaps more than fighting did. He welcomed the exercise and the lesson in enhancing his patience. Quenten shouted his orders to the diggers and other staff and behind him, sat atop his horse proudly was lord Tywin Lannister. The appeal to Lord Tywin had been successful, a few days passed of Tywin analysing the blue prints and designs Leo gave him through Lord Quenten.
Thus as tensions rose between the Dalish and the lords of the South, in the west, Tywin tested the value of elven knowledge. He formed a camp at the ruins of House Tarbeck and hired workers to dig trenches through the lands of Castamere. Carpenters and smiths were brought in across the west to build mills and dams, whilst the diggers built streams. Over the course of those weeks Leo lived to what he saw as the ideal of House Lannister, hear me roar. Whenever Quenten rested and drank, or tried to socialise with the Lord of Casterly Rock, Leo led more organised digging crews and oversaw the redirection of the waters that flooded the mines of Castamere. Once the great house of the Reynes, it would be where Leo would truly make the name for himself. He practiced with a few of the Western knights and spoke with both labourer and nobility.
"If we dig trenches here then the volume of the water flowing through it will create a white water effect," he told a few of the workers, having highlighted regions on a map.
"White water effect?" one of the workers raised their eyebrows in confusion.
"What he is referring to is streaming water, the kind that's clean enough to drink," lord Tywin's voice echoed through the tent.
Immediately the man bowed their heads and cleared way for Tywin. He ran his hand over the map and Leo's drawing. There was no smile on the lords face, he more critiqued Leo's plan that praised it.
"If you make the following adjustments," he took the quill off of the table and began amend the lines on the map. "Dig here and here, with varying degrees of depth then you should get the effect you are seeking," he said.
"Thank you Lord Tywin," Leo said.
"You were the knight who took part in the melee at Highgarden, you defeated my champion," Tywin said.
"He nearly killed me," Leo muttered.
"Yet here you are, serving Lord Quenten, you won him a bride and a land, coinciding with his discovery of an elven ruin," Tywin stated and Leo nodded.
"My lord is perceptive, he knew the value of Lorch lands," Leo said.
"Then perhaps I'll need Lord Quenten and his perceptive eyes at my side at camp Tarbeck. You'll take over his duties here," Tywin said.
"As you wish Lord Tywin," Leo bowed his head again.
It was a month into the work and the first interaction Leo had with Tywin Lannister. From his efforts he had gained responsibility for the restoration of the Castamere mines and the replanting of the fields there. Leo got to know his workers, those whom lived on the Castamere lands and wanted to see it returned to the days of prosperity. So far, Castamere had served as an example of the Lannisters wrath. Tywin obviously saw some value in the mines, in claiming any treasures the Reynes took with them to their watery graves. In time the waters flowed, the mines became pools and two more months passed.
Leo enjoyed his own private tent, and a messenger for him to exchange letters with Lady Lorch. No secret messages or such clandestine things, but talk of books she had read and other such trivial things. It was a friendship, which Leo was unused to, but found pleasant nonetheless. Eventually Quenten returned and rode with Lord Tywin as if he was a conquering hero. The mines of Castamere were clear. With Lord Tywin was a man who most glared at behind his back, but were also afraid of. There were dark rings around his eyes and his skin had a rough quality to it, matching his unkempt hair. Leo was invited by Quenten to walk with him and Tywin's entourage. They walked through tunnels filled with heel high water, workers dragged away bodies for the silent sisters.
There did not seem to be any kind of enjoyment or pleasure from Tywin, even when he saw the skeletal remains of the people that were his enemies. A monster, Leo had heard the man be called. But in seeing him he came to understand, Tywin was a monster but not for the Reynes of Castamere. There was a different malice and evil in the man's mind, the same malice and evil that all men concealed. Leo smirked, he knew lord Tywin now, knew what kind of man he was. Tywin's eyes were drawn to the ceiling and to the walls of the mine, to the red crystals that glittered with an other worldly glow.
"Seek it, seek it, power of blood, power of my blight," Leo remembered chanting to himself months ago when he cut his hand and let his blood flow onto the dirt.
Enhanced by the magic he knew that could be found in the weak veil, the blight would infect what had taken root from the bloodshed that had taken place there many years ago.
"What is this?" Tywin asked, looking up at the rocks.
His advisor, a man named Quentin stepped up to the wall and placed his hand on it. He was confused by the red appearance. But he knew what it was.
"Lyrium," Quentin whispered. "This Lord Tywin is Lyrium!"
A source for magic for mages, a pretty stone for dealers and nobles, but Tywin saw something that could be of value in forging armour for the Western army. There were also diamonds and some deposits of gold still left, alongside the treasures that the Reynes took with them. Guards were assigned to the mines that night, but Leo wasn't part of a group seeking to rob the mines from under Tywin's nose. He sought something very different when he snuck in under the cover of darkness. Though the bodies had been removed, the spirits still remained. And surrounded by red Lyrium, Leo had plenty of materials to work with.
Closing his eyes and focusing his magic, he could hear the outraged voices of the dead around him. He tried to find the one voice he was looking for, the one that echoed through his mind like a lion's roar. The energy seeped out of the wall, the red of the lyrium matching the blood red and ghostly form of a lion's mane. The red lion snarled, stomping its feet as it walked around Leo. Then the lion changed, taking on the form of a man in leather armour, the white flap around his waist had the image of a red lion on it. A red cloak covered his upper body and the strap over his shoulder had a silver lion ornament on it. The man lifted up his hood, revealing brown hair that rose as if he was still under water.
"The golden lions," he seethed, his voice too had a disgusting 'wet' sound to it.
"They are the power in the west now, and the power in the crown," Leo said and the ghost scoffed.
"I knew it, that fool Tytos's son always wanted a place on the throne, tell me, is it a son, a daughter, a fucking grandchild he rules the nation through?" he asked.
"The dragons are gone, now it is the stags and the lions who sit atop the Iron throne."
"A Baratheon? I knew, I knew things would break down, the madness took Aerys didn't it?" the ghost laughed.
"Yes indeed it did, but magic will return, and war will rage again," Leo said.
"I will have my revenge?"
"Perhaps you will Roger Reyne, that all depends," Leo grinned.
He waved his hand, and Roger Reyne's ghost was condensed into a ball like form that floated into Leo's outstretched hand.
"It depends on who Tywin Lannister chooses to ally with in the wars to come. The Chimera? Or the Griffin?"
Next Chapter 23: Defence of Qarth
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter
