As Albus walked towards the House of Undying, he took into account the details surrounding the abode of the famed warlocks of Qarth. A lone tower surrounded by an orchard of trees, built to give an impression of majesty and detachment. To Albus, who had seen the wonders of many worlds, it reeked of shallowness and desperation.
"Hmph, Isengard was better, at least Saruman knew how to be imposing without an effort," he grumbled, and then smiled at even the thought of daring to compare someone like Saruman the White with these shitty warlocks.
I thought that these warlocks would be imposing, but they are just addict's subsisting by drinking essence of Nightshade to prolong their lives, Albus shook his head as he walked towards the tower. At the tower however stood a single warlock with his hands folded and awaiting him. As he looked at the man, Albus was forced to re-evaluate his stance on the warlocks. The man in front of him was without a doubt a powerful sorcerer, but one who had been losing a great deal of his power over the years as his magic waned due to the broken leylines. At his prime however, the man would have been as good as a fully trained wizard from their home world.
"Lord Belaerys, be welcome into the House of Undying," the man spoke, even as he gave a curt bow. "It has been too long since a Valyrian Dragon Lord graced our humble abode. This one is named Pyat Pree, and I have the honor of being your guide," he spoke, even as he welcomed Albus to come inside the tower.
"You are too modest," Albus retorted, even as he smiled at the man with a perfect poker place. "The House of Undying is anything but humble. Even the lore of Valyria mentions the House of Undying as something to be treated with due respect," he mentioned even as Pyat Pree smiled, although his eyes narrowed.
Because it was an insult, even though it was couched as a flattery. The Valyrian Freehold had deemed the House of Undying as weak and not worth associating at all, as they had been deemed as sub-par sorcerers and petty conjurers, not even worth enslaving. When the Freehold had existed, the warlocks had attempted to gain admission to the Freehold to study magic, but they had been laughed at and driven out of the Freehold.
"Impressive, you have found quite an ingenious use for the essence of night shade, though it seems to have taken a toll on your bodies," Albus casually remarked, even as they walked into the tower. The moment they walked into the tower, Albus was almost blindsided by the amount of despair hovering in the building. It was almost akin to what a dementor could propagate, and through sheer will, Albus controlled himself from lashing out, as his suspicion was proven right.
"We have arrived," Pyat Pree spoke out, unaware of the fact that what had transpired had just sealed his and his fellow warlocks' fates; even as they arrived at what passed for the audience chamber in the tower, where around a dozen warlocks were seated on a table awaiting their arrival. Albus narrowed his eyes as he noticed that there was no place for him to sit. A clearly calculated insult from the warlocks against a living Valyrian dragon rider. A petty move in his opinion. He decided to allow them this meager victory.
"A scion of House Belaerys," one of the warlocks' whispered even as they all looked at him with undisguised curiosity, and hunger in some gazes.
"We did not anticipate that such a prestigious bloodline would survive the doom," another spoke while Albus walked ahead and stood in front of the warlocks.
"Speak your words, young dragon rider, the House of Undying would hear them," the one who had spoken earlier continued in what he considered was a generous and accommodating tone, while Albus glared at them nonchalantly.
"My Father," he began without preamble, "the High Archon of Valyria, has learned of what has happened to the Freehold in our absence. He is most … displeased," he spoke out, as the others leaned forward to hear his words. "Therefore, in his infinite wisdom, he has decreed that he will recreate the Valyrian Empire, and he requires that the House of Undying come under his employ and work for him. In return, he will see to it that you are aptly rewarded, and you will be granted the right to study the higher arts of magic for services rendered," he concluded, while the faces of the warlocks' grew ugly at the terms and some of them outright scowled in anger and disgust.
"As always, it is the want of the Valyrian dragon riders to demand, and not ask," a warlock rasped with a tinge of anger in his tone, while his pale cheeks became flushed with rage.
"Do you think of us as naught but beggars to be sated with scraps of knowledge thrown at our way, as if we are dogs? We are the warlocks of Qarth, and we will not suffer to be commanded, not even by the High Archon of Valyria," another of the warlocks' hissed, while the rest of the warlocks began to clamor.
"Am I to take it that you are all in fact, refusing my father's most generous offer?" Albus asked, even as the atmosphere in the room dropped down to a chilling degree.
"Pardon my fellow warlocks' attitudes, young lord, but what makes you think that you can prevail and create an empire with naught but five, admittedly impressive, dragons on your side? You have no home, no base, no wealth, or power to start your conquest from! Valyria is but a distant memory in the world these days, and just the glory of days gone past will be of no use to you," Pyat Pree spoke out in a silky tone, even as Albus shook his head at the naivete of the fools in front of him.
"If those mongrel Targaryen's who were but the lowest of dragon riders can conquer Westeros and rule it, then what makes you think that the greatest house of Valyria cannot?" he asked in return, as Pyat Pree looked at him with barely hidden hostility at being brushed aside so cavalierly.
"Unlike the Targaryen's, who possessed no skill in the magic arts, and possessed rudimentary skills permitted to the lowest nobility, we possess all the secrets of the highest lore of Valyria. With such a preponderance of magical lore and might at our disposal, what chance have we of failure?" he asked rhetorically, while the warlocks' seethed once again at being reminded of their lack of knowledge in the magical arts.
"If that is so," Pyat Pree whispered, even as all the warlocks stood up one by one as if signaled, "Then why must we aid you, when instead we can seize you and take all that lore and skills for ourselves and raise ourselves higher than others?" he whispered, as suddenly, a clone of his appeared behind Albus while holding a dagger to his throat.
"Yes …," another warlock rasped, the greed in his tone unmistakable, "Always Valyria hoarded its knowledge, refusing to share it with others. We could not go to the ruins of the Freehold to pillage what was left of Valyria's surviving lore, but we are not so foolish to let such a prize go when it willingly walks into our lair," he admitted, even as he walked forward.
Albus shook his head. Stubborn idiots, he ruefully mused even as he looked at the thirteen walking corpses in front of him.
"So, you have chosen death, then," he whispered, even as a thin smile came across his face. While not a fan of using movie puns like his brother, he did indulge at times.
"Death, I think not," the unnamed warlock whispered, and then paused as he saw the young dragon rider indicating him to look behind him with his eyes. Scoffing, he turned back only to see a pair of glowing yellow eyes, and just like that, he dropped like a sack on the ground which had its strings cut.
The rest of the warlocks whirled around with a cry while Pyat Pree tried to stab him, only to freeze in his place as his body was unable to move. With his eyes wide, and his heart beating like a drum, Pyat Pree watched as a gigantic snake as large as the stone pillars in the hall darted into the chamber and began to slaughter his fellow warlocks, even as he remained bound by the young man's spell.
"You think you know of power, warlock? Let me show you what real power is …," the boy whispered, even as his eyes began to glow an unholy shade of green, and then, he heard it. The roar of a beast that he had believed dead to the world just a day back. He watched, as the beast descended on the House of the Undying like an elephant trampling an anthill as their environs disappeared in a hail of fire and ash.
"Now, let us learn the truth of what this 'House of Undying' has really done over the years since Valyria fell," Albus mused, even as he gazed at Pyat Pree and let loose with his legilimency.
As they watched the House of Undying and its surrounding areas be ravaged by a dragon, Egon, Benello and Xaro realized that something had gone horribly wrong. Once the lady wife and daughter of the High Archon vanished in front of their eyes, their eyes turned to each other with panic rife within them. By an unspoken consensus the three men came to the same decision. If the warlocks had angered the Valyrians, then if necessary, the warlocks would be sacrificed to appease the dragon riders so as to save Qarth.
As one, they all raced down the halls, and jumped on horses nearby and raced towards the House of Undying. Every second was precious and they needed to know what was happening to try and stall the disaster that was in the offing. The streets were full of panicking people, who were screaming and trying to run to safety, wherever they sought it in their feelings. As they raced ahead, suddenly there was a gargantuan roar from the skies as a vast shadow enveloped the city. Benello's horse nearly threw him over in panic and it was only his supreme skill in horsemanship that saved his life.
Against his will, Egon looked at the sky and blanched as he saw the behemoth that served as the mount of the Archon appear over Qarth with the golden dragon not far behind.
Soon, they neared the ruins of the House of Undying and stood motionless in dismay as they saw the scale of damage that had been inflicted upon the tower. In front of them stood the younger son of the Archon, who held up a warlock they recognized as the honorable Pyat Pree by his neck and dangled him in the air.
"Albus Belaerys," his mother was blunt and forceful, "What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself," she ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.
"As you wish, mother," the boy nodded, as he dipped his head towards the warlock who was still dangling in the air, and looked petrified at seeing the lady of Valyria.
"The warlocks ambushed me and attempted to slay me even as they invited me as a guest in their tower, when I went to offer them the terms given by father," he spoke out in a glib tone, while the eyes of everyone in the vicinity widened in shock and horror. Especially that of Egon, Benello and Xaro, who were there in their capacity as the representatives of the City.
Those misbegotten pieces of swine … Benello swore, even as he looked with unadulterated hatred at the struggling Pyat Pree wishing to strangle the old warlock himself. Could they not contain their greed for regaining their magic for even a single day? And to attack the son of the High Archon of Valyria himself, madness …
As he was racking his mind on how to salvage the situation, the voice of the lady cut in again, "Then why does this swine still live?" she asked with a guttural growl, while even Egon and Xaro began to pale in fright. If the Lady or worse, her husband held them responsible, then Qarth would cease to exist without question.
"Because I have learned that this is not the first time, that they have tried to kill a Valyrian, their crimes are far greater in scope," the boy responded with a harsh tone, to which Egon wondered as to what could the boy consider as worse than attempting to kill him.
"Then I shall be the judge of this matter," a deep voice came from the sides as the Archon himself walked in, followed his by eldest son and heir. Benello was literally covered in sweat as his robes clung to his back dampened by the amount of it, while Egon and Xaro wisely chose to remain silent and moved to stand behind him.
"I sent you to the House of Undying to offer my terms, and in return, you offer me a broken wreck of a worthless warlock and the House of Undying in ruin. I believed that such actions were usually the acts undertaken by your brother and not you, and the fact that you of all people have resorted to this means that something truly is amiss," the Archon mused, even as he snapped his fingers and a pair of thrones made of black obsidian sprouted from the ground, even as he and his wife sat on them while his eldest son and daughter stood behind him and his wife respectively.
"Speak," the Archon commanded, and his younger son nodded even as he dragged Pyat Pree forward.
"I did go to the House of Undying to deliver your terms, father," Albus began, even as he nodded at Pyat Pree, "But as I entered the tower, I was assaulted by a mass of eldritch energy harvested from the souls of uncounted number of men, women and children, who it appears have been killed in this infernal tower for over hundreds of years, and all unquestionably Valyrian or of Valyrian descent," he finished with a hiss, even as the Archon sat up straight, while his wife stiffened.
The three representatives of Qarth on the other hand felt as if the earth beneath their feet itself had shattered into an abyss swallowing them alive.
If true, then … Benello did not even need to think about the consequences.
"Continue," the voice of the Archon was cold and resolute. He would find no succor there.
"I believe that after the fall of the Freehold," here the boy visibly struggled with the word, "these warlocks hunted all the ordinary citizens of the Freehold who were in Qarth and its surrounding areas, and sacrificed them to fuel their waning magic. As you know father, not all the citizens of the Freehold were able to wield and practice magic, even if they had the gift. But nevertheless, even dormant, magic ran through their veins, and these scums, collected all the destitute Valyrian citizens who were not in the Freehold at the time of its destruction, and culled them like animals to harvest the magic from their blood by their accursed rituals. There was enough despair and death in there to breed a colony of dementors!"
Xaro did not know what a dementor was and nor did he wish to know, but what the younger boy revealed enraged the Archon and his wife beyond measure. Even the other children seemed livid. Looking at the enraged look on the Archon's face was enough to make Xaro feel as if he had lost ten years of his life span.
Harry had literally shot up from his throne in shock and he was not the only one. Ginny was radiating anger like never before. He had known that magic practitioners in this world were uncaring psychopaths, but this was pure barbarism without any scruples or restraint. Unknown, his mind recollected the dark days of Voldemort at the height of his tyranny for a moment.
To those watching the debacle though, it felt as if the very air around them was becoming as heavy as a mountain. Without fail, every single member watching the spectacle, which included the remaining members of the council of thirteen who had run over to the area once they had learned of the events, collapsed to their knees gasping for air and shivering in uncontrolled terror.
Without further ado, Harry tore into the warlock's mind with a savage intensity and rammed into his thoughts akin to a battering ram against a wooden door. Pyat Pree moaned in pain and fell to the ground, even as his eyes and ears began to bleed, but Harry paid no heed.
"I had wondered why apart from Volantis, there are no significant numbers of people of Valyrian descent in the rest of the Free cities," Harry replied with a soft tone, even as he moved forward. "There were enough citizens who had survived the cataclysm, but yet, very few remain in the other cities. Now, I know why, it is you wretches, I see it in your mind…," he growled, even as he stood atop a shivering Pyat Pree.
"You were the ones who paid for various mercenaries and cut-throats to kidnap and bring any Valyrian they could find to Qarth where you culled them like animals to gain any shred of power you could from their blood! You were the ones who fanned the flames of the so called 'Century of Blood' and were one of the principal architects of the destruction of the Valyrian colonies! You will pay dearly Pyat Pree of the House of Undying! Your suffering will be legendary," he whispered with rage coloring his tone, while everybody became silent.
"My Lord, please control your anger," Ginny spoke out softly, to which James and Albus scoffed internally. Acting like a noble lady who adhered to the wishes of her husband was a charade that Ginny had mastered to perfection over the ages, and each time their mother acted the dutiful wife made them chortle with mirth at seeing this charade fool lesser minds.
"And why should I?" Harry retorted in a huff, even as he scowled at her while Ginny stared at him in return, warning him to not overplay their hand.
"He is but a pawn in a greater game, and what we need is to find the true minds behind this and punish them. But if you do not control your rage, I fear nothing will survive in the vicinity," she pointed out, to which Harry glared at her, even as he relented and withdrew his presence.
The members of the council of thirteen who were watching the proceedings let out a hidden sigh of relief, and each of them on their own began to think of a way of forestalling their impending doom. Because they knew without doubt that once the warlock was disposed of, the Archon would undoubtedly come upon them next.
"Pyat Pree, for the crimes committed upon my people, I hereby pronounce judgment and sentence you to your eternal damnation," Harry spoke even as the Elder Wand appeared in his eyes.
Harry began a chant in ancient Sanskrit as he decided to invoke an ancient curse used in India in his old world and began to speak, "You will carry the burden of all the sins committed by you and your fellow warlocks on your shoulders and will roam alone like a ghost without getting any succor and courtesy till the end of this age. You will have neither any hospitality nor any accommodation; You will be in total isolation from all mankind and civilized society; Your body will suffer from a host of incurable diseases forming sores and ulcers that would never heal. May you, Pyat Pree, lead the most wretched life anyone can ever lead. May you never receive love or affection ever in your life unto the end of Time. So, I have invoked, so it shall be!" Harry finished with a guttural growl, even as Pyat Pree screamed in agony as his body began to fester and form all sorts of warts, boils and bubbles on his skins even as an unbearable stench filled the air.
"I banish you to the Red Wastes, may you roam there till the end of time!" Harry spoke out, even as Pyat Pree vanished in a blazing pillar of light.
As he beheld the scene in front of him with sheer bowel-splitting terror, Benello had never feared anything as much as the man pulsing with power in front of him, even as he watched the Archon condemning the warlock to a fate that even the hells would dread to perpetrate. A moment later, he realized that he had pissed in his own breeches, and he was content that was the extent of his shame, compared to what his fellow council members were feeling and experiencing.
"Now for you lot," the Archon growled, as he turned to look at the prostrating members of the ruling council of thirteen, "Give me one good reason why I should not wipe this city off the face of this world for harboring those mongrels within your walls!"
As one, the members of the council began to blubber and beg for forgiveness and professed innocence, but the Archon was in no mood to listen. Suddenly they received aid from an unexpected source.
"Father, I know this is presumptuous, but would you spare this city on my account? I have taken a liking to this city and I do not wish to see it burnt to the ground," Lily asked, to which Harry looked at her in surprise, as did her mother and her siblings.
For Egon, Benello and Xaro, as well as the other members of the council, they could not believe their ears as they heard the daughter of the Archon intercede for them. Were they really that fortunate? Was there hope for them to survive?
But in the next moment, their hopes were dashed cruelly as the Archon admonished his daughter.
"I have indulged you too much it seems," he glared at her, even as his daughter seemed to step back hesitantly, "There is not much that I will deny you, my beloved daughter, but there are limits to even my generosity," the Archon retorted, while his daughter looked at him with entreating eyes.
"I do not ask you to forgive them father, I only ask that you spare this city," his daughter amended her words while the council of thirteen held their breaths.
"I admit that this city has many sins to atone for, so let them expiate them by serving us," she paused, before she looked at him with a somewhat defiant gaze and exclaimed, "I claim this as the patrimony of my coming of age!"
"Lilian!" her mother was not pleased at her daughter's apparent defiance and stepped forward to chastise her but was stopped when her husband raised his hand to stop her.
"This is not a frivolous claim, daughter," the Archon spoke quietly, even as the ruling council listened with their hearts taut like a string stretched to the limit. They knew, instinctively, that the Archon's daughter had taken a liking to their city and was trying to prevent its destruction at the hands of her father, and they prayed that the Archon's love for his daughter outweighed his rage.
"A patrimony is an inheritance that is granted to each child of the house once they come of age, and it is the choice of the child to demand anything they wish for, within reason, but this, this is not what I expected of you," the Archon shook his head and continued, "If you seek a city to rule over, then all you need to do is ask, and your brothers will conquer and give you any city you desire, the moment you name it. Be it Braavos, Norvos, Qohor or even Volantis. If necessary, they will even conquer Westeros and hand it to you on a platter, and you would waste such a gift on this insignificant speck of a city?" he asked with a scoff, while the audience were left reeling at the words.
Was that all it was? Was their great and glorious city being reduced to a mere fancy trinket for a little girl? And the Archon treated the free cities and even Westeros … as something like a product in a market?
"Trust me Father, and please grant me this boon," she asked her father with a bow, even as the Archon began to pace around, deep in thought. The council of thirteen waited with bated breaths, because they knew that if the Archon decided otherwise, they and their city would cease to exist. Even the Archon's wife and sons were silent.
After a few minutes, the Archon sighed deeply and went back and sat on his throne, and bade the council to stand. Xaro, Egon, Benello, Magnus and the rest nearly tripped on their feet in their haste to obey.
"For the crimes committed by the warlocks of the House of Undying," the Archon began with a deep voice, even as he glared at the thirteen, "this city and all those who reside within should have been put to death by rights. Indeed, I have ended entire empires for lesser offenses," the Archon growled, while the council paled collectively in fright.
"However, you ungainly lot must have the greatest luck in the world," he paused, even as he looked at them with a gaze that promised nothing but death, "I say this, because I cannot bear to deny my dearly beloved daughter what she asks. And against my better judgment, I have decided to grant her wish," he finished, while his daughter gave a whoop of joy before becoming silent at a glare from her mother.
"A patrimony is the greatest day in a Valyrian child's life, and I have been forced to grant this hovel of a city to my daughter, she who is worthy enough to have an entire continent gifted to her! So, as of now, I decree this, Qarth is now formally claimed as the first city of the new Valyrian Empire, and it is granted to my daughter as her personal fief, along with all the lands under its domain. Normally, you would have been granted the choice to negotiate better terms upon your surrender, but because of the crimes of the warlocks, Qarth forfeits that right. You will submit or you will die, the choice is yours!" the Archon declared, even as the air grew heavy in the area.
"Do you yield the city?" the Lady Ginevra asked after a moment, to which the council of thirteen looked at each other helplessly, and then Benello, acting as the spokesman for the group stepped forward and knelt, "We obey, Your exalted eminence! Qarth submits to the authority of the reborn Valyrian Empire!"
"Good, but that still does not satisfy me," Lady Ginevra spoke out, even as she looked at her husband who nodded in agreement.
"To formalize this agreement, the thirteen of you will swear your oaths of fealty under an unbreakable vow! I will accept nothing less to ensure the safety of my daughter's holdings," she spoke out, while the Archon nodded in agreement.
"An unbreakable vow, My lady?" Egon asked tremulously, as he looked at her in surprise.
"A vow enforced by magic," the eldest son of the Archon spoke out. "This was the way that vassals swore their oath of fealty in the Freehold. Basically, you swear an oath of loyalty which is enforced by magic itself, and if you break it, or worse, even think of breaking it … you die," the young man spoke out casually, while the thirteen blanched in terror at the thought.
"And this is not negotiable," the Archon replied as he stood from his throne, "You will obey this command, or you will die," he spoke out aloud, even as the behemoth in the sky roared and cast its shadow upon the city.
"Be grateful for your fates, and for the fact that my sister has taken a liking to your city," the younger son of the Archon, he who had laid waste to the House of Undying, addressed them all, while his family moved forward.
"Make no mistake," he continued in a serious tone, "the only reason my lord father has chosen to spare your city is because he cannot deny his dear daughter what she asks. Your city's continued existence depends upon my sister's goodwill. If for some reason, you give her cause to lose her interest in your city … then you do not need me to tell you what fate will befall your city. Be mindful of that fact," he concluded, and then walked ahead, leaving behind a bunch of disturbed men who had lost everything in the span of a day.
Author's Note: The conquest of Essos begins from next chapter/
