AN: As always thank you for your reviews and PMs. I always appreciate them. As for guest reviews, here you go...
Dan: The thing is Harry didn't shrink every individual coin, nor did he expand the chests before using them. He filled the chest with the coins as they were, nothing more to it. They took roughly half a million coins in total. Wealth was not his primary concern for the venture.
coldblue: 1) He will probably try to hatch it. Dragon eggs generally contain dragons. 2) Read the chapter. 3) Possibly. 4) Nope, at least not yet. 5) It's possible. 6&7&8) Wait an find out. 9) Probably not in the course of the story, no. 10) Not sure yet.
Lupy: 1) Upwards of a hundred books, thirty-two swords, 500,000 gold pieces and all the other stuff. 2)For the sake of expediency and because nothing ever said otherwise it is 1:1. 3) You can see some of what Harry plans for the Valyrian steel in this chapter, the bows will be sold though and it won't be all at once. 3B) You would be correct. 4) That is most likely, yes. 5) The books will have varying topics but the ones on magic came from both the vault and library. 6) It will prove useful in its own way, though he may not use their actual spells very often. 7) It's possible.
RickJA: I'm not the best at answering these sort of questions, but I would say probably Katie McGrath.
reader: No he didn't bring the crown nor did they keep his remains. And no need to apologize for trying to present some ideas.
Harry awoke with a groan, his head pounding as their skiff rocked with the waves in the early morning haze caused by the smoking waters. His head was resting in Ashara's lap, her hand unmoving in his hair. Gently and quietly as he could manage, he extracted himself from her embrace and stretched his aching limbs. He could still feel a dull throb coming from the burn on his forearm but ignored it.
Nesio sat beside the rudder, watching him quietly with his dark eyes, "Finally awake."
"How long was I out?" Harry asked as he looked back toward the island they'd departed. The hills seemed to be alight with deeper and brighter reds and oranges than it had when they arrived
"Half a day," Nesio told him, "We meant to stay in our little camp along the shore but we were forced to change those plans."
"I imagine it has something to do with that." He pointed toward the glow.
Nesio nodded pulling the rudder to steer around one of the jutting rocks, "Whatever the two of you did," He gestured toward Ashara, "woke up that island. The heat of the place grew worse, and in the night the lights grew brighter, more intense. Ashara insisted that it was time to leave then." He chuckled lightly, "She wouldn't even let me take the time to pack the tents. I forget how demanding she can be when the mood strikes her."
"We saw figures, wreathed in fire, upon the hill as we were pushing away from the shore." The tested warrior seemed slightly disturbed at the thought, "I suppose it was good that she made me leave the tents. She stayed up more than half the night to make sure you were well. It was only once she could no longer fight the exhaustion that she slept."
Harry grinned absently, looking fondly at the girl in question, unsurprised that she would do such a thing. Though, his thoughts quickly found their way somewhere else entirely. Those shades must not be confined to the city alone. But how could they have traveled so far so quickly? He understood the irony of that question given his own abilities. All the same though, perhaps they were able to travel through the fires around the island. But they still found our camp quickly. He looked to the raised, hairless skin of his arm. Perhaps they did more than leave a mark on me with that touch. Whatever the circumstances, should he ever have the desire, traveling back to the ruined city would prove all the more dangerous.
"Harry," Nesio pulled him from his musings, "there is something that we need to discuss." His eyes were still scanning the waters, though after their journey to the old city, Nesio was quite clearly confident in the path through the many jagged stones dotting their way.
"Alright." He rested his back against the side of the boat.
"Once we return to Volantis, it will be time that we part ways." He didn't sound particularly happy about the prospect but confident in the decision.
"Why?" Harry knew that the former pit fighter intended to leave and begin teaching anew. But he was a loyal friend, one who decided to accompany him in the hopes of avenging Harry's father. He still held out some hope that Nesio might return with them to Dorne.
"Garth Tyrell is not a man that I can help you kill." He smiled widely, "Well that is not entirely true. Put me in a room alone with him, and I could very much help you." Harry chuckled at the thought of Garth the Gross facing a pit fighter.
"But what I mean is that I am a man far out of my depth with you." Nesio sighed, looking far more worn than Harry had ever seen him, "I am a simple man. I know the sword and how to take life with it. But I am not meant to seek vengeance against high lords, even in the name of a dead friend. I am not the sort of man meant to travel to haunted cities and look upon the shades of those long dead." Harry was truly grateful that the man had set aside his fears and superstitions, and braved the smoking waters with them.
"And despite the years that I have spent training you, I am not meant to help you any longer. You are my friend, but your magic is something that I do not understand. Nor do I truly wish to understand it." Nesio's lips were in a grim line. We have done so much together over the years. And in those years I have asked much of him. He accepted my magic despite his own reservations but at some point, there is only so much that one person can tolerate.
"I hoped that perhaps this journey changed your mind and that you would return with us to Starfall. Perhaps even become the new master-at-arms for Ulric." Harry admitted with a shake of his head, "But it would appear it has just made the decision easier."
Nesio gave a deep laugh, "Oh Harry, I don't think I would be suited to the position of master-at-arms. I get frustrated by the best of students." He gave him a pointed look, "To give me many – well I don't know how many would last through the first month. No, for now I believe that my place is elsewhere."
"For your troubles, and your tolerance, I can guarantee that you won't be leaving empty handed."
Nesio snorted good-naturedly, "Damn right I won't. With everything you've put me through…" They both snickered at that.
They sat in silence together for a few long moments then. Harry just watching Ashara sleep, grinning at the slight whistling she let out with each deep breath. There was much to be considered now about how to approach what came next, for his sake and for hers.
"You will start traveling again," Harry looked back to Nesio, "teaching Magisters, trirachs, and their sons – men of influence."
"That is my plan, yes?" There was a curious rise in his voice.
"Every place you go, every manse you visit, I would ask you to do something for me." It would likely be the easiest request he ever made of the man, but also the most important.
Brow furrowed in confusion, the scarred warrior questioned, "What would you have me do?"
"I want you to tell this story to all of those important people." Harry said slowly, even as the thought fully formed in his mind. "Make it part truth, part fiction and vague enough that people can guess at the details without knowing the full extent of them. And of course, you must leave out names."
"You want me to spread a rumor, why?" Nesio seemed genuinely confused by the request, "Was it not your desire to rise in reputation for this act? What reason do you have for trying to remain obscured by half-truths?"
"I have gold now. I have knowledge now. I have the finest of weapons now. But what I do not have is position or the means to truly protect myself." Or Ashara. He was aware that should people learn of their exploits it would see them both sought after.
Harry hoped to avoid new dangers and manipulations before they took form. Should King Aerys learn of this, I have little doubt that the man would call both of us to court and make some claim to the treasures we've acquired. And given Ashara's lineage and her recent exploits, the King may see her as the perfect wife for Rhaegar. The thought left Harry cold, despite his friendship with the Prince.
Then there was the issue of Lord Tywin. If he learns that Brightroar has been found, there would be various courses he could consider. He could try buying it from me, as he has in the past with others. But given it once belonged to his family, he might not be willing do such a thing. And should he learn that it was a Reyne that found his family sword, he'll be all the more likely to take more drastic measures to acquire it. Harry had no intention of putting others in the way of Tywin's ire. He wanted to be secure and have the upper hand, if possible, before approaching him with the matter.
That was to say nothing of what the other lords and ladies of Westeros would do when the truth came out. There are always opportunistic nobles looking to ingratiate themselves with those who have done something of note.
He laughed humorlessly in his own mind. I wonder which will prove the greater danger in the end, venturing to Old Valyria or navigating everything that follows.
"I will tell this story," Nesio agreed, unaware of Harry's wandering thoughts. "But sooner or later, people will come to find the truth behind the rumors."
"I know." Harry told him, "And I want them to discover the truth eventually. Over the course of time, if they fail to learn that it is our story, I will reveal the truth of our involvement. But for now I have no way of guaranteeing my safety, or hers, or any of the Daynes'."
Nesio smiled ruefully, "Yet you have no concern for my safety, friend."
"I have a great deal of concern for your safety. Just as I have a great deal of confidence in your ability to weave a story that will convey the proper message to the right people and keep those people from fixating on you."
"I can tell quite the enthralling story." He boasted happily just as Ashara began to wake. She looked around blearily before her violet eyes found Harry sitting there wide awake.
"How are you feeling?" She was clearly worried over his previous condition.
"I'm fine now." He promised offering her an embrace as she came closer, "Though I have no desire to do that again anytime soon."
"We were worried." She spoke into his neck, her warm breath ending a pleasant shiver down his spine. Pulling away she offered a big smile, "So back to Starfall?"
"After we stop in Volantis to get rid of that one." Nesio made an obscene gesture at Harry, receiving only a cheeky smile in return, "We'll contract a vessel to take us back across the Narrow Sea, probably to Oldtown." I would certainly prefer Oldtown to King's Landing.
"And from there we can return home." She finished for him happily, resting her head against his shoulder. He smiled down at her but wasn't entirely sure that he agreed with her. Perhaps one other venture first.
They reached Volantis without any issue, avoiding any unpleasant questions from the customs officers by abandoning their ship along the coast about a mile from the city. In order to ensure that no questions were asked regarding the numerous Valyrian swords they possessed, Harry and Ashara waited back at the ship while Nesio returned to the city and purchased a chest both large enough and long enough to carry them inconspicuously.
Unfortunately, thanks to the nature of the metal, any attempts at shrinking it would see that particular chest shatter. To fill it, Ashara thought to buy three Myrish dresses. It had nothing to do with her actually liking the dresses. But they did a good job of keeping the blades from clanking around in the chest.
Three days after their return to the Free City, student and teacher parted ways. The pair embraced on the docks as Nesio prepared to board a ship bound for Tyrosh. On his hip were two new swords made of rippling-smoky steel and in his pouch a sum of gold that could see him live out the rest of his days in comfort. The former would help to serve as proof of the stories he would tell, the latter was to compensate him for all he had done and would do for Harry in the future.
"Should you ever have need of a home, you need only seek me out." Harry spoke earnestly. This man had done more than teach him how to fight over the years. He offered unflinching loyalty and friendship, when he was only obligated to do what was necessary for the sake of his coin. Something which is rare in this world.
Nesio smiled that wide, toothy smile of his, "I will hold you to that, my friend. I don't think this will be the last you see of me."
"I certainly hope not."
Ashara hugged the older man firmly, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, "Thank you for everything you have done." Harry resisted the urge to chuckle at the sheepish smile Nesio offered the young woman, and the slight darkening of his cheeks.
"It was my pleasure, my lady." They watched as the ship departed from the harbor before returning to their rooms at the Merchant's House.
They spent another week in Volantis before they found a ship that would take them back to Westeros. It was from the captain that they learned of the situation in the Crownlands.
The story went that Lord Dennis Darklyn of Duskendale refused to pay his taxes after his proposal of a new town charter was firmly rejected by Lord Tywin.
Knowing of the strain between Aerys and Tywin, Dennis invited the king to hear his petition in person. Against Tywin's advice, Aerys chose to go to Duskendale and deal with the problem personally. He took a small escort along with just one of his Kingsguard, Ser Gwayne. But upon their arrival in Duskendale, Lord Dennis imprisoned the king, killing Ser Gwayne in the struggle.
Even as they were told the story, Lord Tywin commanded a siege of the city; unable to attack for fear of the king's life. The siege lasted nearly three months by then, the whole ordeal starting early in the new year.
Of everything in the story, Harry was most upset to hear of Ser Gwayne's death. The older man had been a competitor of Harry's since he first lifted a sword in the melee. He respected him and to hear that he died because of the treachery of one dissatisfied lord left a sour taste in his mouth.
"Do you think my brothers are at the siege?" Ashara asked him softly as they sat together in their shared cabin of the galley. Their horses were in the lower deck with a number of other animals, many of which would be sold for slaughter.
"Arlan might be, but I doubt it. Not many men would be required to cut off Duskendale." Harry shrugged slightly, "I think it is more likely that Arthur is there. He may even have a new white cloak about his shoulders."
To Harry's mind, there was no one more deserving of the vacant Kingsguard position than the Sword of the Morning. He was confident that the likes of the White Bull, Rhaegar, and Lord Tywin agreed. And with the king otherwise occupied, Harry doubted they would delay the decision. But then again it is possible that they wouldn't decide on the Kingsguard without his input. Such a thing might just sow greater distrust between the king and his hand.
Ashara sulked at Harry's words, "I love both of my brothers, but there are times that I wonder what Arthur might be if he hadn't been born a second son." I think you would just prefer if Arthur could remain in Dorne instead of living at the capital.
Harry leaned down and placed a kiss on the side of her head. The frown on her face turned to a small smile, "I don't think Arthur would wish for things to be any different. As long as I have known him he has wanted to wear that white armor." He thought of how the older man had reacted to Elia years prior and couldn't help but think perhaps there was one thing that could cause him to reconsider his position. I wonder if the thought has ever given him pause?
Satisfied with that answer, Ashara rested herself against his shoulder. She fell peacefully asleep a few short minutes later.
They arrived in Oldtown a month and three days after they left Volantis. Harry tried to convince the captain to stop at Starfall but he refused, claiming it would leave them behind schedule. He thought about bribing the man but didn't want to raise undue attention toward the amount of money he really carried. They left the docks with their horses in tow, their saddle bags filled with food and more importantly their shrunken treasures. Ashara's mare carried the chest of weapons. Fortunately, it weighed little and the beast paid it little mind.
They were nearing the gate of the city when Harry heard a call from behind, turning he saw the friendly face of Baelor Brightsmile, the eldest son of Lord Leyton Hightower. Or Baelor Breakwind if you listen to the story from Elia and Oberyn. The man was a few years older than Arthur, dark-haired, blue-eyed and strong. He had a beaming, pleasant smile beneath a well-kept beard. A knight in his own right, Harry had seen the man perform well in a number of tourneys over the years. I can see why Elia preferred him of all her suitors. He's always seemed a truly pleasant man.
He approached at a quick pace, though not running as it would be unseemly. The crowd parted as he made his way down the street and Baelor came to stand in front of them, "Harry, I thought that was you." He looked confused though, understandably so, "But why are you here? Surely you should be with Ser Arthur at the siege of Duskendale."
"An understandable assumption, my lord, but I am no longer Arthur's squire." This caught the man by surprise but he understood the meaning and then thumped Harry genially on the shoulder.
"I take it you are a knight then. And well deserved too."
"Thank you." Harry said graciously, "Arthur knighted me upon our return to Starfall after my victory at the Tourney of Lannisport."
Baelor nodded, "Wonderful, as I said, truly well deserved." He furrowed his brow, "But all the same I would have expected you to accompany Arthur."
"I am responsible for his absence." Ashara interjected pleasantly, "Before the whole ordeal took place, I convinced my parents to allow me to travel to the Free Cities. They requested that Harry accompany me for protection, and he generously accepted."
Like many men, Baelor looked the young woman up and down though he at least didn't leer. He bowed his head, "Apologies, Lady Ashara. It was rude of me not to greet you. I don't mean to be impertinent but I must say it seems to me that your father took a great risk in allowing you to travel with only one guard, capable as he might be."
Ashara graced him with a thin smile, Harry could tell the comment irritated her, "Your concern is appreciated, my lord. But as you can see, I am perfectly safe."
"So you are." Baelor agreed contritely, "I meant no offense."
"None taken." She inclined her head slightly before turning toward the gate again, "Farewell now, we must be going."
"My father would think it remiss of me were I not to invite you to dine with us tonight." Baelor interjected before they could depart. The pair shared a look.
"Your offer is well received," Ashara said genially, though Harry noted a hint of frustration, "but I long for home and there is plenty of daylight remaining to put less distance between me and it." She offered Baelor a smile, trying to soften the blow of her rejection.
Fortunately, Baelor was not a prideful man instead gracing them with a hearty laugh, "Understandable, I have longed for the comforts of home may times after my own travels." He offered Ashara a bow, "I wish you a safe journey home."
Once outside the gates of the city they mounted their horses. Ashara turned east, looking toward the expanse of green pastures that led to the far mountains of Dorne. She knew that just on the other side was the Torrentine with Starfall along its banks. But Harry wasn't looking toward Dorne.
He was looking to the north, along the Roseroad as it stretched off into the distance, "Harry?"
"There is one more thing that I want to do." He admitted turning to meet her gaze, "But I would not keep you from home if it is your desire to return."
"Where do you plan to go?"
"The Westerlands." He didn't want to elaborate with the crowd that passed around them as they slowly trotted by the side of the road.
Ashara furrowed her brow and looked down the Roseroad, clearly confused by his thinking, "It will take almost two weeks to reach the Westerlands, would it not have been easier to take a ship to Lannisport if this was your intention."
He whispered to her, "Sailing into Lannisport would have forced me to answer to Kevan Lannister, not Baelor Hightower." The Lannisters were well informed of what took place in their own city. He had little doubt that he wouldn't have made it out of the gates before being accosted by one of the guards.
"And I take it you don't want them to know what business you plan in the Westerlands?" She asked astutely.
"Precisely." Ashara looked conflicted, the idea of seeing her family again warring with traveling with him; because despite some of the danger, she cherished their ventures in the east together.
Finally she dug her heels into the flanks of her mare, galloping by the side of the road, "Well come on then!" She called back to him brightly. He laughed and spurred his own horse forward.
The pair lay together in their tent late one night in the wood between Old Oak and Cornfield, less than a day from their destination. Harry's greatest concern about this journey had been the possibility of outlaws given the current situation with the king. But given the bandits strung up in the trees just outside of Old Oak when they passed earlier that day, Harry realized that concern was misplaced.
They were avoiding the Ocean Road, not wanting to actually pass through Crakehall or Lannisport. And from what I hear of the Cleganes, it is best to stay away from their hall as well.
It was only a few short months prior that Harry remembered making his way up the Ocean Road with a different Dayne, hoping that he would achieve victory for the first time at a tourney. A great deal has happened in a very short time. My father dead, the killer captured, a journey to Essos, a near thing with Dothraki, the men truly responsible for my father's death discovered, and the dangers of Valyria. It seemed to Harry that more had happened in his last six months than had happened in his last sixteen years.
Ashara was resting her back against his bare chest the only thing between them her thin shift. She was reading a book in the hovering light he had produced. At times, she idly thrummed her fingers against his knee. Every now and again she would drift to his thigh, making it difficult for him to think more than once. He wasn't entirely sure if it was a deliberate movement on her part, but he could have sworn that he saw her smirk once when he'd taken a short breath.
He could remember the days when they were younger and they swam in nothing but their underthings in the currents of the Torrentine. Seeing her in so little now, hints of the curves and soft flesh that lie beneath, was an entirely different matter. Though he was happy to know that she wasn't unaffected, he'd seen a slight tinge of red on her cheeks upon seeing him bare-chested on more than one occasion.
Trying to focus on anything instead of the beautiful young woman against his side, he turned his eyes toward the old pages of King Tommen's journal.
The tome certainly shed light on the mystery of what happened to the lost king. The man was meticulous about keeping record of his journey to Valyria. The last known report of him was very much true. He arrived in Volantis and was showered with gifts by the triarchs of the city, all of them hoping to win him over with promises of aid in future. The prospect appealed to Tommen.
Such aid could put an end to the constant warring between the Kings of the Trident, and the River and Isles, the Reach, and our own kingdom. Given the treasures he hoped to find in the ruins of the great city, half seemed a simple price to pay for such aid.
But before he left for Valyria, a third of his sailors deserted from fear of the Doom. It forced him to hire slaves who only did as they were bid because of the whips of their masters.
Their golden fleet suffered greatly in the Smoking Sea. Harry knew from experience that those waters were dangerous even to the smallest ship, but to try navigating a galley through would be nearly impossible. Two of their ships made safe landing on the northern peninsula, west of Oros.
I fear that they have met their end. A great wailing rang out some hours after the smoke of this place consumed them. It seemed too loud for how far we'd traveled but this is a terrible place where I do not understand all of what is possible.
The king's ship was the only one to reach the blackened island that held the capital, making landfall in that same alcove. When pushed, a number of the slaves chose to swim into the smoking water rather than step even a single foot closer to the haunted city. They all drowned.
When they finally set out for the city, they numbered almost a hundred. Those numbers quickly began to dwindle. Their few horses scared and galloped away after killing four men in their fright. A crumbling hill saw thirty of them tumble into the weeping fires where they melted like ice before the eyes of their fellows.
With each step we take, it seems as though the distant city presses down upon our minds. The men are weary and paranoid. All that can turn their mind to purpose is speaking of the gold and glory that awaits them almost constantly.
Harry understood that struggle. The very land of Valyria seemed to try and drive men mad.
The great topless towers of the city can be seen in the distance this morning. One of my nephews, Loren, went mad and killed seven guards before I was forced to cut him down with Brightroar. It seems this journey has turned me into a kinslayer as well as a slave owner. It was only then that the king began to voice his doubts about what he had done but he persevered.
A number of their men choked on the tainted air in their sleep and as their numbers fell further they were forced to leave more supplies behind that had been meant for the pillaging of the city.
What few of us remain arrived in the city and it is… magnificent. Even broken as it is, there is no city on this earth that I have seen that compares. My men have tried entering the towers but many are barred, still locked by some old magic. We managed to fill a chest of gold and found half a dozen swords.
Not the spoils that he was hoping for, that much was certain. They toiled within the city for three days, finding a number of books and valuables but no longer having the means to move them in any great quantity. The last of his loyal men jumped from one of the topless towers in a fit of madness. Tommen knowing that there was no hope of survival went to the forum of the city and sat down among the many rows to write his final words.
I doubt anyone shall ever read this, and if they do they are unlikely live to tell a soul. I do not know what madness convinced me to come here thinking myself capable of succeeding where thousands before me failed. Aurion was a fool and I have proven myself his equal. I shall miss my wife and children. I hope they will forgive me my folly. For this truly was folly, born of pride and greed.
I am the first man to brave the dangers of the Freehold in hundreds of year, and like all those who came before me I won't be returning.
Harry closed the book softly, drawing Ashara's gaze. Carefully so as not to damage the old tome, he placed it in his sack, "Anything interesting?" Ashara turned her body so that her chest pressed against him.
"It's just a detailed account of his journey to the Freehold." Harry said turning to look at her violet eyes, "There are some personal musings regarding his family, even a brief mention of a Reyne that married into the cadet branch. It was illuminating and certainly drove home the point that we were fortuitous in our travels there."
Ashara crossed her leg over his body, straddling him and laid atop his chest, resting her head atop her hands as she watched him, "Hmmm there was an explanation of the bodies we found along the dragonroad?"
"They were driven to madness."
Ashara shuddered slightly, remembering her own unpleasant experience, "I was fortunate to have somebody unaffected with me."
However, he wasn't unaffected by her body laid out atop his. He could feel the softness of her bosom pushing against his chest pleasantly, and the pressure of her hips against his own was having a noticeable effect.
Harry cleared his throat nervously, "I believe Lord Tywin will be interested in the contents of the book when the time comes. It serves as proof that the Lannisters were the first to reach the old capital. While he may not have returned, it is an important claim all the same…" He knew that he had started babbling nervously, but stopped abruptly as Ashara rolled her hips against his groin. He moaned involuntarily, closing his eyes at the sensation. When he opened them again he found Ashara smiling at him mischievously.
She leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He willingly returned the kiss, his hands gliding down to her hips to push her down more firmly against his manhood. He heard a hitch in her throat as she pulled away briefly before she attacked his lips with greater fervor.
In the low light of his spell, they moved against one another soft whimpers and deep groans escaping from their throats. As the minutes passed, their movements became more frantic. Harry could feel dampness begin to form on the front of his trousers from their combined arousal. He kissed down to Ashara's neck as needy, breathy whimpers escaped her lips. His fingers found the swell of one of her breasts, his thumb flicking over the hardened nub beneath the material of her shift. At that Ashara's mouth opened in a silent scream as her body began spasming erratically, her earlier measured movements lost.
Harry could no longer contain himself and felt his own release wet his trousers. Ashara took great gasping breaths with her head rested against the side of his neck. She turned her head upward, her lips at his ear, "I am sorry for the suddenness of that but I've been thinking of doing it for months now. And sleeping beside you every night has done nothing to dampen the desire."
Harry wrapped his arms around her slim form, holding her closely to his body, "I've had thoughts of doing much the same, Ash. There is nothing to be sorry for." He felt her smile against his neck and before long her breathing evened out.
He knew he desired to do more, to feel her skin against his in the most intimate way but for now, this was enough. He would not dishonor her. He would not break the trust that her parents and his mother had shown. Still it is deeply tempting all the same.
With a wave of his fingers the light hovering in the tent disappeared and he rested.
It was raining just before noon three days later when Harry and Ashara crested a hill and came to what remained of his family's cavernous home. The trench that had once been used to divert a river into the caverns no longer existed. Lord Tywin must have seen it removed some time after. The broken gates that had trapped all within remained, and he could imagine the dead still floated in their watery graves.
Ashara nudged his shoulder, "Harry did we come all this way so that you could visit Castamere?" She was confused and a little bit irritated if he were to guess. She hadn't asked why he brought them to the Westerlands but she understandably assumed it was of greater importance than visiting his old home.
"No, but I know how to get where we're going from here." While seeing the broken remnant brought up some rather interesting feelings, he did not bring them to the Westerlands to see a ruin. Seeing it he was almost tempted to see what remained within but knew it was not good to dwell there, lest someone else happen upon the old fortress.
Ashara only furrowed her brow in confusion, following along on her mare as they made their way past Castamere and further westward. They traveled for almost an hour when they came to a village that rested part of the way between Castamere and Ashmark. Harry considered making this trip when the Tourney at Lannisport took place but decided against given the amount of attention on him and Arthur. But now I have both reason and desire to see it done.
There were fifty or so buildings, all made of wooden timbers save one. The sound of a squealing hog came from one of the homes before it fell silent. A lovely dinner I'm sure. There was a small inn called the Broken Spade at the center of the town. Harry wasn't entirely sure that he would find who he was looking for but he deeply hoped he would.
Harry dismounted with a thud. His boots splashed water and squelched as they sunk into the mud. They paid the inn keep as they tied up their horses but they didn't go into the establishment. Instead Harry made his way down the wet pathway through the town toward the sound of hammer on anvil, and bellows breathing greater life to the flame.
The blacksmith owned easily the finest home in the village. The walls were made of stone with a finely crafted oaken door barring entrance. The forge sat alongside with the man's works displayed as testament to his skill at the craft. There was a helm in the form of a roaring lion, a breastplate enameled with the boar of House Crakehall in silver and brown. There were knives and swords, all with fine pommels and made of quality steel.
A blacksmith of such talent would usually find himself living in one of the great castles of the kingdoms but instead he plied his trade in the same town where he'd lived with his wife and child. But the great knights and lords of the West still came from their homes to commission him for work, allowing their own smiths to outfit their household guard alone.
Harry stepped into the forge and removed his hood, running a hand through his damp hair. The clangor of metal on metal came clearer as he watched the old blacksmith at work. Despite being in his sixties, the man struck with the force of a much younger man, his arms still flexing with well-used muscle. His broad chest shook with each heavy blow.
He was tall, only slightly shorter than Harry with grey hair that was beginning to whiten at the temples. He had a beard and a heavily lined face. Eyes of jade green glowed red from the fire. Finally, he noticed his company. The blacksmith looked the pair of them up and down, before turning and quenching the piece of metal he'd been working.
"What can I do for you?" He asked over the hissing of the rapidly cooling steel.
"I heard that you were the finest blacksmith in the Westerlands." Harry said conversationally, looking at the man's crafts.
"Aye Harrold is my name, and I take it you wish to commission me to make something for you." He finished, long accustomed to this business, and only pulling out his manners when a lord came to his little smithy. When his wife and daughter were still alive, he tended to have better manners for their sake, "It will be half a year before I can get to your order. How long after that depends entirely upon what you want me to make."
Harry didn't address the conditions, "I was told you spent every coin you had so that you could travel to Essos when you were only fourteen. Within a year you were an apprentice in Qohor, and within three considered a master of your trade. It was there that you learned how to rework Valyrian steel."
Harrold looked the younger man up and down skeptically, unsure where he would have heard such things, "There might be some truth to that." He edged toward the wall, and one of the swords that hung on a rack there.
"That's rather impressive for a man who came from almost nothing." Harry complimented still not turning to the blacksmith, "But then when you had notoriety you returned home to this village, and wed a girl who you left behind in the hopes that one day you would be able to give her a better life." He finally turned to look at the blacksmith when the hiss of a sword whipping through air came from his direction.
"How do you know that story?" He gripped the blade with two hands, ready to strike. Despite having made them most of his life, Harry could see that he was far from comfortable with one in his hand, "Very few people have ever heard that story and most of them are dead." He saw Ashara tense at the threat but he just waved her off as he finally met the blacksmith's hard gaze.
Harry continued unperturbed, "Then as you gained fame in the Westerlands for your work, you had one daughter with your wife, Renna." He stepped closer, relaxed despite the man threatening him, "And when your daughter, Lily, grew older you could deny her nothing, books being her love. You went so far as trading your works for tomes from lord's own homes. But it didn't trouble you when you saw her smile."
There were tears in the old blacksmiths eyes now, his knuckles white as his hands clenched tightly around the hilt of the sword, "And then one day Reynard Reyne came to commission a sword from you, and Lily caught his eye. He wasn't the first to want her, but he was the first to want her for more than just a roll in hay."
"They married and shortly thereafter they had their only son, Harrion." Harry pulled the sword from the old man's hands gently. He glanced at Ashara and could see that now she understood, at least in part, why they had come to the Westerlands.
"Why do you torment me with memories I would rather not dwell on?" Harrold questioned pitiably, shoulder slumped in defeat, "Is it not enough that I must remember happier times, and their unfortunate end in my dreams?"
Harry placed a hand on the man's shoulder, "I do not mean to dredge up distressing memories." Their eyes met, closer now Harrold noticed the vivid color of them. The same eyes that he remembered in Renna and Lily, "But I heard that story from my mother, and I didn't see any other way to convince you that I am truly your grandson."
Tears flowed freely down the burly man's cheeks, "Harrion? I remember holding you when you were small enough to fit in my two hands." The man embraced Harry tightly before pulling away, confusion winning out over joy, "How are you alive? Is Lily still alive? Where have you been?" Harry took note of the fact that his grandfather did not ask after his father, but then he couldn't entirely blame him. For sixteen years he has probably blamed the Reynes for the loss of his only daughter, Reynard most of all.
"The story of how I am alive is rather complicated and best left for another time. But my mother is alive at Starfall in Dorne, though last I saw her she was rather distraught at the death of my father." Harry explained slowly, gaging the older man's reaction.
"Reynard loved Lily, whatever else his faults. I know she will have taken that loss hard." He scowled then taking a step away, "She's been alive these long years and never considered telling me of it, or her mother when she was still with us."
"She considered it many times." Harry tried assuaging the man's rising anger, "But she could see no way of coming here that would not end in our death and yours. Every year she would consider making the journey here, but reason convinced her not to do it. One person recognizing her was all it would take before you found Lannister men at your door."
Harrold made to interject but Harry stopped him, "How many lords come to your smithy each year? Those men grew up with my father and sat feasts with my mother. She never could have come alone, nor with my father and certainly not with Dayne men. She has never seen me compete at tourney because of those same fears." He could understand the man's hurt but hoped he could also see that the decision was born of love and fear for their well-being, "She thought of you often and it caused her no small measure of sadness, but she decided it was better you live thinking her dead than that you die keeping their location a secret."
"It was a tough decision. I can understand that." He conceded loudly, "She would have risked the safety of everyone she loved coming here. But you must understand that her mother died thinking that her only daughter drowned in the halls of Castamere." Sorrowful, that was the only way Harry could think to describe the man standing before him.
"We both know that my mother will weep when she hears the news." Harry remarked firmly. He knew that his mother could have done things differently but she had considered the safety of her child paramount and he would not allow her to be vilified for that, "So please, do not hold it against her. Just be happy that she is alive and well, and that you might see her again."
The thought brought Harrold up short, whatever anger remaining in him seemed to fall away. He spoke in barely a whisper, "I would give up every piece of gold I've ever made for the chance to see my Lily again." He looked at Harry shrewdly, "But I don't think that is the only reason that you're here." Very astute of him, but then my mother is quite bright.
"You're right. There is another reason that I've come to see you." He conceded easily, "I wish for you to leave your home here and move to Dorne, partly because I would wish for you to be closer to my mother but also because I believe I could make great use of you talents at the forge."
Harrold seemed to struggle for a moment, "I… grew up here and lived in this home for nearly four decades. My wife is buried on a hill less than a mile away. How can I leave?"
"Because your Renna isn't on that hill and leaving this place won't take her from your memory. Because the remaining family you have lives in Dorne. And because if you decide to come, I will provide you with an opportunity I doubt you have had in many years at the forge." He pulled one of the swords from his hip, the Valyrian blades ripples shining in the low light of the fire, "I would have you rework Valyrian steel."
His grandfather's eyes lit up as he beheld the blade, "Why would you need my aid with this? It appears you already have what you need though I could not guess how you came by it."
"I ask that you trust that I can provide you with a challenge worthy of your skill should you agree to come to Dorne and that I will tell you the story at that time." Harry knew the best ways of getting to himself and his mother was by presenting them a mystery and a challenge all in one. He hoped that it would prove an effective method of convincing his grandfather as well.
Looking between the blade and Harry, his grandfather's resolve slowly crumbled, "In six months I will be able to finish all of the work I have currently been commissioned to make. When I have finished I will leave this house and come south to Starfall."
Harry smiled brightly, "You won't regret it, grandfather."
The old man chuckled wetly, "Hearing that word will take some getting used to." A rumble of thunder exploded above them and lightening lit the sky as rain began to deluge from the sky.
Harrold looked between the pair of them, "You'll have warm beds for the night." He leaned in close so that only Harry could hear, "You found yourself quite the beauty there, Harrion."
"How rude of me," Harry guided Ashara closer, "This is Lady Ashara Dayne. Ashara this is my grandfather, Harrold." They exchanged pleasantries before making their way into the dry warmth of the home.
The Palestone Sword was a welcome sight when it finally came into view from the banks of the Torrentine. The rain hadn't ceased for the first week of their return journey and while magic dried them easily enough, it didn't make the journey any less dreary.
Confident after his recent successes, Harry almost turned his horse toward Highgarden when they were in the Reach so that he might deal with Garth Tyrell. Ashara talked him out of that course of action, arguing that planning was needed for that particular matter.
They both cantered into the quiet courtyard of Starfall at dusk. Both Harry and Ashara turned when they heard a door open and hurried footsteps headed their way. Ulric, Larra, and Lily all hurried across the courtyard. Little Allyria was cradled to her mother's chest. Just behind them Arlan and his wife followed at a more sedate pace.
They found themselves tightly embraced by their mothers, Ulric smiling from behind them both. Harry laughed as he hugged his mother back, glad to see that she was no longer confining herself to her room, "I think they might be pleased to see us." Harry noted to Ashara with wry smile.
His mother leaned back, "Ecstatic. As mothers it is our prerogative to worry even when we might not have cause and we had more than enough cause with you two!" She poked him in the chest for emphasis, smiling at him.
"We heard your ship arrived in Myr safely from Prince Oberyn some months back after he arrived back in Sunspear." Larra informed them as Ashara leaned down to offer her younger sister her finger. The baby giggled and tried to pull the digit toward her mouth, "Between my worry over you and Arthur, I've barely slept some nights." She said forlornly to her daughter.
Ulric snorted, "Arthur is perfectly fine, Larra. Nothing has happened at the siege of Duskendale since it began. And if Lord Tywin chooses to attack the castle there will be little danger."
"Yes, you keep saying that." Larra said flatly, "But I will continue to worry. As Lily said, it is a mother's prerogative to worry."
Ulric looked highly amused but held his tongue. Arlan and Elinor joined them then. Elinor grabbing her good-sister's arm, "You must tell us of your time in the Free Cities." The young woman didn't know of the true reason for their journey and so Ashara followed her, extoling of the wonders of Myr and Volantis.
Harry and Lily lingered behind the others. He looked at his mother, "I learned a great deal. We'll discuss it after we've eaten." She agreed without argument and they all had an enjoyable meal filled with laughter and stories aplenty.
But as the night wore on, Harry found himself sitting across from his mother in her room. There was silence between them before Lily finally broke it, unable to contain herself anymore, "Well," she snapped, "What happened?"
"Hezza, father's killer, was hired by a name man Terrance." Lily tilted her head at the name, recognizing it for its Westerosi origins, "The man ran a gang in Volantis, but he was originally from the Reach, Highgarden to be specific." Harry could see the anger written on his mother's face, "And Terrance only took interest in father because he was released from Highgarden's dungeons by Garth Tyrell on the condition that he find him and kill him."
"Garth Tyrell." She whispered the name once staring blankly. But then she snarled, hatred written on her face and venom in her voice, "Garth Fucking Tyrell!" Harry blinked wide-eyed at his mother, unaccustomed to hearing her swear, "That fat, petty bastard! I ought to hunt him down and string up by his own intestines."
Harry watched owlishly as his mother continued her tirade, surprised at just how vivid her imagine could be when it came to inflicting pain. Finally shaking himself, Harry pulled her back to the conversation, "I have every intention of making the fat man suffer for what he did to father. Fortunately, he isn't aware that anybody has reason to want his life."
Lily exhaled through her nose, deliberately trying to calm herself, "Good, you will allow me to help." Taken aback, Harry just nodded his agreement, knowing there would be no convincing her against it. Particularly at the moment.
He told her the details of the story, leaving nothing out. It was her belief that Olenna was most likely responsible for misleading Garth about their whereabouts and Harry was inclined to agree. To hear that it had been chance that let Terrance find them brought her no comfort though.
When finished with the story, she looked to Harry an eyebrow quirked, "How long did it take you to discover this information?"
"A little over a month." Harry informed her dutifully, knowing already she wouldn't be happy to hear what came next.
"You were gone for over four months. Where else did you go? What else did you do?"
"Well," Harry started nervously, running a hand through his hair "we might have gone to Old Valyria."
His mother laughed but there was no humor in it, "I'm sorry. I must have misheard. Did you just say you went to Old Valyria?"
Standing, Harry retrieved one of his swords from where they rested against the wall, unsheathing it he presented it to his mother, "I took this from the body of a dead dragonlord. I found him with the bones of his sister-wife atop their topless tower. The chest Ashara's mare carried has more blades, less richly adorned, well except for Brightroar."
Lily looked torn between pride at his accomplishment, and rage at his having gone to begin with. Eventually she settled on the former, "I can't say that I am happy you risked the Doom, with Ashara no less, but I'm amazed at what you have achieved and proud beyond words. Thank the Seven that you returned unscathed."
Harry rolled up his sleeve to show the burn on his forearm, "Not entirely I'm afraid."
"How did you get that?" Lily demanded, running her fingers over the healed wound. There began yet another story, and by the time it came to its end the moon outside illuminated the room in a dull light.
"You arrived in Oldtown, but you didn't come straight to Starfall," Lily pointed out, "so where did you go?"
Harry smiled softly, "I went to visit my grandfather. At least I hoped to. "
Lily's breath hitched, she looked excited, "Oh umm… why?"
"I wanted to meet him." Harry admitted, "He was understandably surprised to learn of our survival."
"And there was something I knew from your stories that he will be able to help me with." He pointed at the swords, "I have many Valyrian steel swords, but I do not need all of them. I would like the rest reworked into simpler weapons that require less steel. I believe axes, spears, daggers will prove more useful in the future."
He took his mother's hand and squeezed it, "Your father agreed to come to Dorne. He plans to be here in six months' time."
Lily smiled widely, tears of joys forming in her eyes, "And what of my mother?"
"I'm sorry…" He didn't need to say more and those same tears that formed in happiness began to fall from her emerald eyes in sorrow. He held his mother as she cried for the second time in less than a year.
He let her sob against his shoulder as she slowly composed herself once again. She wiped at her eyes, "My mother was older than my father. I've feared her passing for many years now." She looked forlornly out the window, "I would have liked to see her one last time."
Harry had no comfort to offer beyond a small smile of understanding. Lily looked him in the eye then, "Everything you've done would lead me to believe you have a something in mind for the future, the near future if I were to guess."
He just smiled at her enigmatically, "You are aware of my desire to see the honor of our family name restored. I have just started taking my first steps toward seeing it done." Lily smirked, not the least bit surprised by his vague response.
Bidding his mother a goodnight, Harry grabbed his swords before leaving her room. But he didn't make straight for his own quarters, instead heading toward the maester's tower where he intended to send a raven.
The midmorning sun beat against the sand and dried grass around Harry as he reclined against the hard stone of a fluted pillar. His black sand steed trotted around happily, stopping every so often to come and drink from the pale of water Harry left there for the faithful beast.
Harry was alone save for his steed. Ashara was tempted to accompany him but he convinced her to remain at Starfall. He waited patiently, reading a book that hadn't been read in almost four centuries to pass the time.
The Valyrian book was the third that Harry had taken from his new trove; this one had proven to be the most gruesome.
The first detailed the history House Vaelerys, their sons and daughters and their great deeds and the dragons on whose backs they rode. If nothing else the book had driven home how just five centuries before hundreds of dragons darkened the sky. House Vaelerys alone possessed a score of the winged creatures before the Doom. And the Seven Kingdoms bent the knee to just three. Had the Valyrians been inclined they could have come and taken Westeros before the fall.
He had found it odd that only a single dragon egg remained among their family treasures. But it was because the others had been born to new riders and no clutch came before the Doom. While interesting to know the history of a great house of Valyria, it didn't reveal any arcane secrets held only by the House of Vaelerys.
The second detailed the knowledge of one of the oldest families in Valyria regarding dragons. Five millennia's worth of dragon breeding, taming and riding. Though in those years, there was no exact science behind the birthing of dragons from their eggs. The thing about Harry had been most eager to learn from the book proved scarce. One egg might remain dormant for a century, even a millennia, while another would hatch within years. But fire and blood were used to see the dragons born, that much was clear.
The most dangerous dragons, wild like the beasts first found in the Fourteen Flames, would be subjected to arcane magic in the form of fire whips. They would lash at the beasts, conditioning them until they were deadly only to the enemies of the Freehold.
The dragon horns required blood of the dragon to survive; otherwise it would burn the caller to death from the inside. Its call could be heard from hundreds of leagues away to bring one of the dragons of the family home.
But it was this third book that spoke of the magics performed by the sorcerers of the Freehold. An empire born of fire and blood, but in the end the fire took back what had been built. Harrion had seen some terrible things, felt some agonizing things in his life and in Harry Potter's. Slavery, death, torture, he could still remember the pain of curses and the burn of poison running through his veins, but it seemed paltry compared to the means Valyria employed to build itself up.
There were instances where a blood sacrifice from the caster was required but in most cases the blood of another sufficed. Why spill blood of the dragon when it isn't necessary? They killed scores a week in the mines of the Fourteen Flames, keeping the heat of the world at bay with their arcane sorceries. And when those slaves rose up in protest, frequently, they were beaten down by those same sorceries.
Their topless towers, made of that strong dragonstone, took the fire of dragons to fuse and strengthen but the blood of slaves to mold. But when they first started, the person crafting the walls provided the blood and the magic. That interested Harry. I might not be able to fuse the stones without dragon fire, but I might be able to create blackstone.
There were a number of Valyrians who attempted to extend their lives by the sacrifice of others, but a thousand lives drained of life might buy another year. It was a price that they couldn't afford. They wouldn't have been able to conquer or breed quickly enough to recoup the losses required.
There were things he was willing to attempt, other things that he doubted he would touch even in dire need. What he would test is whether blood sacrifice would strengthen his magic.
He had only scratched the surface of what the book had to offer. And there are at least a dozen more on magic. He wasn't sure if he would be able to stomach it all.
Harry's eyes snapped away from the pages when he heard the braying of a single horse as it came to enter the courtyard of the old holdfast. He stood in greeting as Prince Oberyn tied off his horse and looked around at the dilapidated ruins where he'd been asked to meet.
Shandystone had been abandoned eighty years prior when the well ran dry. It was twelve miles north of the Greenblood River between Godsgrace and Sunspear. Its walls, pillars, and lovely triple archways were once smooth and bright when they belonged to a lesser son of House Allyrion. Now they'd started to erode to the slow passage of time. The wall that surrounded the holdfast at chest-height began to crumble, whole portions having broken. The left portion of one of the triple archways collapsed and only half of the stones that surrounded the now empty well remained.
Oberyn approached with a roguish smile, "I can imagine only two reasons that you asked to me to come alone to a place like this, either you want to kill me or you want to fuck me. But I think you love me too much for the former and too little for the latter." He stared at Harry for a long moment before they both laughed and embraced, "I was surprised to hear that you did not travel to Duskendale after your return to Westeros." He commented as they moved to the shade.
News arrived just a week prior at Starfall that after half a year what men had taken to calling the Defiance of Duskendale came to a bloody end. The king was saved by Ser Barristan and in his rage he had the entirety of House Darklyn and Hollard executed save for Dontos Hollard. The boy was spared by the kindness of Ser Barristan alone. Lord Denys' wife suffered the worst. Many considered Lady Serala the instigator, and for her part in the whole affair, her tongue and womanly parts were torn from her body before she was burned alive. And there are those who call the punishment kind.
The king granted the lands and titles of Duskendale to House Rykker. For a brief moment Harry had regretted not making the trip to the crownlands, knowing full well he would have been capable of entering the castle unseen. The thought quickly fled him though as he had no desire to gain a house and title by the death of every man, woman and child of another family.
"With the likes of Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan there, I didn't think my presence would be missed." Harry replied as they moved into the holdfast. A snake hissed in the dusty corner but otherwise left them alone.
"So tell me why I've spent the last two days traveling to this place." Oberyn commanded as he sat, grabbing at the flagon of wine Harry left on the table and pouring into a wooden cup.
Harry sat across from the prince, "I want this place for my own. I wish to rebuild it."
Oberyn chuckled good-naturedly, "Rebuild it all you like, it will not make water fill that well." He leaned forward, "You want to be a landed-knight, I am sure, so that someday you might call yourself a lord. And then you could be more than a bed-warmer to Ashara."
Harry pursed his lips, knowing it was only Oberyn's nature to be so biting even to his friends "If I have your guarantee that this place will belong to me that well will be filled to the brim with water by the end of the day."
"How would you manage such a thing?"
He had the prince curious now which boded well for him. He spent years wandering Essos for the sake of curiosity and a desire to see more. "Agree to my proposal, and you will see with your own eyes."
Oberyn rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I am a prince of Dorne but I am not the ruling prince. Doran would have to make such a thing official. And it is unlikely to make the Allyrions happy. Time may have passed, but this place was once theirs."
"If it would make the decision easier for him, I would be willing to pay 500 dragons for it."
"You must be joking? For this place? You must be truly desperate to get between Ashara's legs?" He guffawed loudly, "For that sum, Doran might be willing to give you a title along with the holdfast."
"For now the holdfast will be enough." Oberyn clearly had not expected this sort of conversation when arriving here but eventually he nodded.
"You have the sum with you?"
"I do."
"Doran will give you the land for that price. And I doubt the Allyrions will be able to begrudge him the fact." He assured Harry, "Now show me what you promised."
Smiling he stood and walked from the room and out to the well, Oberyn close on his heels. The last time such a thing had been performed in Dorne hundreds of Nymeria's water witches banded together to see it done. But he wasn't bringing water and bloom to the entire desert, just this single well.
Closing his eyes, Harry focused on the movements and the right mental state. His hands began weaving through the air and as he did he could feel veins of water, deep below and far away falling to his command. He could feel the strain as they slowly seeped into the large cave below.
For long minutes Harry continued as water filled the well once again. When he finally finished, he could see his own reflection in the surface of the water as it wet the sand where the wall was missing. Flexing unconsciously, he wiped the sweat from his brow and resisted the natural urge to react to the strain his body had just endured.
He could feel Oberyn's eyes boring into the side of his head and just smiled cheekily, "Well, it's been filled to the brim well before the end of the day."
"I have seen a great many things Harry, even those capable of magic." The prince didn't appear entirely sure how to react, "I did not think you capable of such things, much less lost Rhoynar water magic." Harry quirked an eyebrow, "I read the book gifted to my mother by Lord Ulric." Oberyn said a little defensively.
"You've seen enough of the world to know that things most men think impossible usually aren't." Harry remarked calmly.
Oberyn snorted a laugh, "Very true." He watched as Harry approached his bags and retrieved a large pouch of coins.
"I can expect a raven confirming my ownership of this place then?"
"Of course, I am a man of my word. And one who knows how to keep a secret as well." He looked to Harry meaningfully, a silent promise in those words. It occurred to Harry that he could try and take the memory from Oberyn or even alter it, but he couldn't bring himself to do that to a friend. To somebody he trusted. It was always a risk revealing his magic to somebody new, but if there was anybody beyond Ashara he trusted to accept it and remain quiet on the matter it was the roguish prince.
"Somehow I doubt this is the only secret you have, Harry." Oberyn commented with a smile, "And someday maybe I'll get to hear them all." Unlikely, but you will hear a few more when the time is right.
The two men talked until just after midday. In that time Oberyn told Harry of a rumor he heard out of Essos. A rumor that someone braved the Freehold and survived.
AN: So there you go, the next chapter. This was some wrap up on the last chapter and setting up quite a bit for the future.
For those who are wondering it is now the middle 277 AC and the tourney at Harrenhal takes place in 281 AC. Depending on what exactly I write that is probably five chapters away. I have plans for Harry to have a conversation with Tywin, the tourney of Storm's End, Garth Tyrell, the Kingswood Brotherhood among other things. Depending on how much I add in between, it could take more than five chapters but that is what I am figuring right now.
Until next time.