Chapter 3
266AC: Oldtown
The Honeywine River's shore
Rodrik
The heir to the Cassel house looked at the young Stark, who made a fine sabre stroke. The young knight was confused when tasked with teaching the heir to Winterfell. While he was supposed to work under his uncle, the captain of the guards at Winterfell, his father was the master-at-arms. The Stark heir was supposed to be taught by his father, not him, and that was only after he was old enough.
But he was instructed by Lord Stark to teach his son how to fight with swords. The first big surprise came when he met the young heir to Winterfell. His father stated that the young heir was only four-name days old. The usual age for children to start sword fighting is twice that age. The second big surprise came when he discovered that he would not teach the young Stark at Winterfell but in Oldtown. Apparently, the young Stark was going to Citadel for his education. Which was odd since he was supposed to be the next lord of Winterfell.
Not long after they arrived in Oldtown, and he began training the young Stark. He then realized why he was starting training so early. Three days into his training, the young Stark had already mastered his footwork. Within five days his sword thrusts were more precise than his. By the end of the week, the Wild Wolf's slash was faster than most seasoned knights. It was official, the child was a monster.
Within a year of his training, the young heir has mastered single-handed sword fighting, archery, sword-shield-based fighting, lancer-based fighting and dual-wielding swordsmanship.
"That will be enough for today, my lord," Rodrik stated, and the young Stark nodded. "Aye. I'll be going to the Citadel then," The Wild Wolf of Winterfell informed and went on his way.
Citadel
Brandon
Brandon was escorted back to the Citadel tower by a few of his houseguards. It has been almost a year since he came to Oldtown. A year ago, he constructed the printing press machine with the assistance of the blacksmith in Winterfell. Rickard, seeing how the machine works was beyond impressed and allowed him to travel to Oldtown.
The young heir to Winterfell asked his father to keep the machine hidden until he returned from the Citadel, as he didn't want the attention of the other kingdom to be drawn to him.
Truthfully, he wasn't going to use the printing press to copy the books in the Citadel. He had already created the 'Doubling Charm' from the Harry Potter universe. He created the printing press to mass-produce books to teach the common folk in Wintertown to read, write and help develop new skills.
At first, when Brandon arrived at the Citadel all of the maesters and archmaesters were sceptical and slightly annoyed by his presence. Maester Walys already boasted about his abilities to his colleagues in his letter, but that did more trouble than help.
It was a good thing he was an expert legilimens, the old maester of Winterfell also wanted to write about his talents to his mother's house, the Hightower. But Brandon quickly used legilimency on the old Maester Walys and removed that idea from his mind.
The Seneschal of the Citadel assigned him to an acolyte of economics when he first arrived. They thought nothing special of him, but within in few days, their perception changed rapidly when he casually calculated the entire Oldtown's budget with clinical accuracy. After that event, one of the archmaeasters of economics took him under his wing to teach him higher forms of calculation, where he exceeded their expectations again.
Once Brandon showed his genius-level intellect, all the other maesters and archmaesters quickly became awestruck by his prowess. Soon they started to continuously hound him everywhere he went. The young heir to Winterfell also had to use legilimency quite often to make sure his presence in the Citadel stayed unknown to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Except for the members of the Citadel and owners of the inn where he and his guards were staying, no one knew his existence, thanks to the 'Notice-Me-Not' charm.
Brandon would also often help many maesters and archmaesters as their assistant in many of their works. Thanks to this, he has gained many special privileges. One of them is, having full access to the entire Citadel library. The Wild Wolf was currently heading to Archmaester Boros's lab. He was one of the only Archmaesters who studied medicine, alchemy and magic.
Brandon arrived at Archmaester Boros's lab and knocked on the door. "Come in." An old voice said from behind the door as he opened and entered the alchemy lab. "I'm here for my lesson, Archmaester Boros." Said the Wild Wolf of Winterfell.
Boros was tall, thin, and old with his hair grey and with a beard long enough to reach his belly. He was wearing long robes, a blue cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light and bright, and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.
"Ah! Lord Brandon, come in, come in." Said the archmaester of magic. "What would you like to learn today?" He asked politely, "It's not as if I could teach you something you don't already know, my lord."
Brandon scratched his head in embarrassment. Within seven months after his arrival he had learnt everything the Citadel had to offer. From the history of the First Men to the recent War of the Ninepenny Kings, all the geographical changes of the known world, including the Old Valyria. Politics, astronomy, economics, Warcraft, alchemy, smithing, languages, literature, mathematics, medicine, logistics and magic.
The Wild Wolf was glad about his decision to study at the Citadel. If he stayed back in Winterfell, he truly would have missed much-needed knowledge about the known world, even with the massive library inside the Winterfell castle.
The young heir of Winterfell looked towards the alchemy desk, the archmester was preparing a kind of potion that he did not recognise. "What is that potion?" He asked.
"Ah, that potion, my lord, is a new one I'm attempting to create," Boros answered softly. "But I just can't seem to get the ingredients right." He sighed. Brandon raised his eyebrow, "What is it supposed to do?"
"It's supposed to provide the drinker with relief from physical pain and a good sleep." The archmaester answered. "Don't we already have Milk of the Poppy?" Asked the Wild Wolf confusingly. "Oh, yes, my lord. But Milk of the Poppy is not known for giving its drinker a pleasant sleep." Boros continued, "I was trying to make a better version of that potion."
'A rather easy solution.' Brandon thought as he looked curiously towards the failed potion.
The young heir of Winterfell had avoided creating anything while he was in the Citadel. Being a five-year-old genius and staying hidden was already hard for him. If it was not for his magic it would be impossible for him to do so. He did only the bare minimum that was required to impress the maesters. Even when he was assisting them with their work and projects, he was accomplishing it by being an extra brain that could match their intelligence.
'I could help him.' Brandon thought to himself. Archmaester Boros was one of the few people in Citadel he truly respected. The man was quite easy to talk to and he had a sense of humor. But the most important thing about him was his genuine desire to help individuals from all backgrounds. 'Maybe, I'll give him pointers to make a Dreamless Sleep potion.'
Another knock on the lab's door pulled him out of his thoughts. Boros allowed the individual inside. A young novice walked in and bowed. "Archmaester. There is a raven from Winterfell for lord Stark," he informed. The novice handed the young heir of Winterfell the small paper and quickly left.
Brandon opened the seal and started to read the content. The writing was done by his father this time. Ever since he had left Winterfell, his mother had written to him three times a week and his father once every week. The young heir of Winterfell missed them dearly, with the spell he created by combining Apparition and Ciri's Blink ability, he could have easily teleported back to Winterfell anytime he wanted, but he had to stop himself from doing that. He feared if he saw his mother again he might not want to return to Citadel. So, he only used messages by ravens as his only form of communication to his parents.
The message from Winterfell brought pleasant news, "Mother is with a child. Soon, I'm going to have another little brother or a sister back in Winterfell."
"Wonderful news indeed, my lord." Smiled Boros. "I assume that you will be visiting your home soon?" Brandon nodded, "Aye. I miss my mother dearly."
"When might you be coming back, my lord?" The archmaester asked.
Brandon looked up at the ceiling and thought, 'There really isn't anything to learn here anymore. Maybe it's time I go back home and start working in the North.' There remained only a few hundred books and a few scrolls to copy in the vaults hidden under the citadel. He could get it complete by tomorrow morning if he wanted. So, he decided to end his Oldtown adventure and head back home.
"I don't think I will be returning," He answered. "You aren't?" Asked Boros in a soft voice.
Brandon shook his head, "It's like you said, I don't have anything else to learn from here."
"Surely, you can stay for a few more years." The archmaester tried to reason with him, "If you desire, you can have a chain forged with every metal link on your neck."
"I told you and the other maesters before, I have no desire to be a knight of the mind," Brandon responded. "I am heir to Winterfell and I plan to be just that."
"True my lord," Boros began with a sigh, "But, I and the other maesters all think that if you desire, you could be the greatest maesters till generations to come. The gods have truly gifted you with blessings beyond belief and Winterfell still has your brother."
"Aye, Archmaester Boros. My god has been kind to me," The Wild Wolf said and continued, "But, I have no desire to become a maester." He smiled, "It is my duty as the firstborn son of my father that I take responsibility for Winterfell as his heir and as an older brother, I also must lift all the burdens of my house before my younger brother."
Boros reluctantly gave a nod of understanding, "Yes-yes, it's hard to debate when you put it that way." The archmaester gave him a playful smile, "Although, I am curious to know when you decided to pursue philosophy as a subject, my lord?"
"A few weeks back when I stumbled across Archmaester Thales's work from 30BC," Brandon smirked. "I'll need to send a message to my father, Good day, Archmaester Boros." He walked towards the door.
"Arachmaester Boros," He turned around and called. The archmaester raised his brow, "Yes, my lord?"
"Instead of improving the Milk of the Poppy, why not create a potion that would ensure a dreamless sleep for the drinker?" The young heir of Winterfell smiled, "I propose combining four sprigs of lavender with jasmine paste and then boiling it with a honey-milk mixture and wormwood oil for two hours."
Brandon quickly left a flabbergasted Boros in his lab.
The Old Spring Inn
The young Winterfell heir was sleeping in his rented room at night when he suddenly felt a disturbance in the perimeter charms. He quickly awoke and grabbed the steel blade that was concealed under his pillow as he discovered a man wearing a hood standing next to his bed.
"Levioso!" He quickly cast the levitation charm and levitated him above the ground. The man became slightly surprised by this but remained relaxed nonetheless. "Who are you?" Brandon asked. He quickly cast an 'Ironflesh' spell on himself.
"A man is a servant of the Many-Faced God." The hooded man answered calmly. "A man has come to serve his master."
"So, you are with the faceless men." Brandon narrowed his eyes, "Are you here to kill me?"
"A servant serves his master." The hooded man replied. "The Many-Faced God has commanded to serve you as master."
The Wild Wolf blinked as he remembered his boss telling him about the Many-Faced Gods and his followers. She said they would be at his command. "Is it just you who will serve me or your entire organization?" He asked as he slowly put him down on the ground.
"All the servants of the Many-Faced God are yours to command, master." He removed his hood and kneeled.
The man was a slender, handsome young man with fine features. He had shiny long, straight hair streaming down across his shoulders, coloured white on one side and red on the other.
"Is it possible for your organization to eliminate certain high-ranking individuals if I request it?" asked the heir of Winterfell. "The master's wish will be our command." The man answered.
Brandon nodded, "What should I call you?"
"The master may call this man, Jaqen H'ghar." The Assassin replied.
"Aye. I have a task for you Jaqen," He began, "I want Maester Gormon Tyrell to be killed. The task must be presented as an accident, and you are only allowed to finish it in two days from today. Can you accomplish it?"
"It shall be done, master," Jaqen said and left.
Maester Gormon Tyrell was one of Luthor Tyrell's bastard brothers and Olenna Tyrell's spy in the Citadel. Brandon had to use legilimency on him almost regularly. The man was persistent and wanted to inform about him to The Queen of Thorns desperately. After two months of regular mind manipulation, he gave up and placed a memory curse on him which would activate if the words 'Brandon, Winterfell Heir, Son of Lord Rickard Stark, Son of Lady Lyarra Stark, Message to Olenna Tyrell and Message to The Queen of Thorns' ever combined and formed a sentence inside his mind.
The downside of the curse was he had to cast it on him every forty-eight hours. He wanted to eliminate the annoyance for good since he would be departing in three days.
Brandon was about to head back to bed when a black owl flew inside his room and sat on his bed. 'I don't think I'll get any night's sleep tonight, am I?' He thought with a sigh.
The owl had a letter tied around its leg. The Wild Wolf slowly and gently untied the letter from the owl's leg and looked. The letter was packaged in a sealed envelope. He recognized that seal immediately as he opened the envelope and started to read its contents. It was written in French,
Bonjour, Monsieur Den,
It's been a while since we last talked. How have you been? I'm healthy as a Sayian, thank you very much. Boss Lady told me about your mission, I have to say, stopping White Walkers and killing the Night King sounds like a lot of fun. Thanks for taking the job man. If Boss Lady had given this mission to me during my honeymoon, I would have blown up the solar system and called it a day. So, thanks again.
Anyway, since you basically saved my honeymoon by going on this mission, I decided to send you some gifts as a thank you.
The first one is the owl. Well, it isn't actually an owl, I magically changed her appearance. She is actually a black phoenix. Now, I wanted to give you a direct descendent from the Phoenix Force but Jean and Boss Lady were against it. So, I went to an alternate universe of Beyblade, extracted Black Dranzer, helped her reborn as a chick and raised her to be your familiar. You're welcome. She is very smart and kind of sassy. Take care of her. The spell I used was Mutatio.
The second one is a special kind. While you were coping the entire Citadel library, I took a small journey to Lys. Yes, Den, I was here. Sorry, I couldn't visit but I did find a very talented young woman. She had built a very strong spy network for her former master, who is now dead. I had nothing to do with it by the way, he was killed by his own son. The woman was looking for a way out for her and her half-sister, so I made a deal with her and smuggled her out of Lys and placed her into Oldtown. If you want to have your own spy network then take her under your employment or If you don't want to, then you are free to ignore her. I have given her the address of the inn you are currently in. She will come there tomorrow at noon. The woman is hard to miss, she has a massive pair of boobs, long silver hair and a heart-stealing face.
I forgot to mention that Boss Lady asked me to inform you about the Old Gods in this world. All of them have changed teams and are now vassals for Boss Lady. Aperantlly, jailbait-midget-bitch, screwed up big time and lost nearly one-third of her influence on this universe. The bitch's own vassals of this universe complained to the supreme being of this universe and he took all of them to the Big Boos Man himself. K was pissed. He gave the domain of life in this universe to Jean. Long story short, Boss Lady told me to tell you to start increasing the influence of the Old Gods on this planet. She doesn't care which route you choose, messiah or manipulator, anything goes as long as the job gets done.
Best of luck and don't forget to have fun, Den.
Ton ami dur à cuire,
Avy.
P.S: Jean and my other wives are shipping you with either Cersei Lannister, Ashara Dayne or Alysanne Blackwood. I am however putting my money on a harem or at the least you having more than one wife at the same time. Peace.
Brandon read the French letter and sighed. He almost forgot how much of a chaotic sociopath Avy was. Most godly beings are more or less like that. They were either super horny, super mellow, extremely cruel or super lazy. There was no in-between. But he guessed being timeless and immortal would do that to anyone. In his boss's realm, he also goofed off most of the time.
'But, seriously! Black Dranzer!' He sighed, not knowing whether he should cry or laugh at the situation, "Did Avy give you a name?" He asked the phoenix in owl form. The bird shook her head in denial. "If I remove the spell, you won't turn into a firebird that's a hundred-foot tall, are you?" The bird shook her head again. "Alright then, here goes nothing, mutation." He removed the spell and the owl turned into a beautiful phoenix.
The phoenix possessed black and golden, and her black tails were as long as peacocks, flowing and split. Silver and gold were gleaming in her claws and beaks, and her eyes were red as fire. The feathers with the golden parts glowed faintly in the night.
"Woah," Brandon voiced softly. "You are the most beautiful bird I have ever seen." He slowly caressed her head feathers as the bird cooied in contentment. "Alright, I think I will call you, Flare." The phoenix nodded in delight.
The next day Brandon sat in the far corner of the inn's hall as he waited for the women. Flare, his phoenix was in her owl form again to avoid too much attention. Rodrik and his other guards inquired about the bird, but he clarified that it was his new pet. He was currently using a 'notice-me-not' charm to make others avoid his table and passive legilimency to read everyone's mind inside the inn.
Most people had normal things on their minds, the men wanted to either put their dicks inside the closest willing women they could find or wanted some easy gold. The butcher's daughter was quite famous among the male population. Every man inside the inn wanted fuck her and some were willing to rape her if any opportunity occurred. 'Bloody disgusting,'
The maiden girls wanted to marry a gallant knight and be some lady of a castle. The married women wanted to either bitch about their husbands or gossip about something. Some married women were not satisfied with their love life and wanted to be bedded by a strong knight while others were mostly annoyed at their husbands. The innkeeper's wife was mad at her husband for the most asinine reason he had ever heard in all of his life. The reason for her anger was that her husband cheated on her in her dreams. 'Women are fucking mental,'
The Wild Wolf didn't even spare his guards. He quickly found out that the butcher's daughter wasn't a maiden anymore, courtesy of one of his guards, Velerad. A nineteen-year-old knight. From reading his mind he understood that his guard was planning to take her to Winterfell and marry her. But Velerad was also having a hard time asking for Ser Rodrik's permission. 'At least Velerad is a responsible person.' He thought as he waited for the woman to enter the Inn.
After waiting for another hour, Brandon saw a hooded woman enter the inn. Her face was covered by the hood but she still stood out from the crowd. 'Damm…Avy was right.' He thought as he eyed her body from top to bottom. 'Her boobs are massive.' And it looked like he was not the only one who noticed her either. The majority of men in the Inn were gazing at her with lust, while the women were showing a hint of jealousy in their eyes.
"Ser Velerad," Brandon called, "Would you mind escorting that hooded lady to our table, she is supposed to be my guest." The guard bowed and quickly went towards the lady to escort her. "Guest?" Rodrik voiced, "May I inquire about the location of my lord's encounter with that woman?"
The young heir of Winterfell smiled, "No, you may not, Ser Rodrik. But do treat her with respect. She is my guest." Rodrik's stoic face cracked slightly but he bowed nonetheless. "Of course, my lord."
Brandon's guards were the only ones who were able to reach him because he only allowed them to be excluded from the charm spell's effect but he still used a slight 'confundus charm' on them so they would ignore the obvious things like, why no one questioned six-fully armed northern soldiers guarding a small five-year-old child in the middle of Oldtown.
The woman in the hood was looking around the inn fanatically for him but to no success. Velerad walked up to her before any other man and guided her to Brandon's table. As soon as she was within their vicinity, the young heir of Winterfell quickly and silently cast the 'notice-me-not' charm on her and the people inside the inn started to ignore them.
"My lord," The woman bowed, "I appreciate your willingness to meet me. My name is Shiera."
"Think of nothing, my lady." Brandon smiled, "But I would request you to follow us to my room, too many ears."
"My lord, she is a stranger," Rodrik protested while giving a slight glare to the hooded woman. Brandon almost rolled his eyes at his head guard's over-protectiveness. "She is my guest, Ser Rodrik. And I am inviting her." Rodrik reluctantly nodded and guided them back to Brandon's inn room.
As soon as he locked his room's door, the woman pulled down her hood. She had a heart-shaped face and thick curly silver-gold hair that she wore long. She has heterochromia eyes. Her right eye is dark blue and her left eye is bright green.
If Brandon was a little older, he would have definitely enjoyed this woman. "So, my lady, how much has our mutual friend spoken about me?" He asked. "Many apologies, my lord but Ser Lucifer has barely given me any details about you." The silver-blonde beauty replied. "He only gave me your current location and told me to contact you if I wanted a better life for my sister and myself.
The Winterfell heir arched his eyebrow in curiosity, "He told you his name was Ser Lucifer?" He snorted and murmured, "Avy,"
"Yes, my lord," She said with slight panic, "I promise, it is not a lie."
"Be calm, my lady," Brandon smiled, "I believe you. It's just…my friend does not give that name to anyone willy-nilly."
"Before I tell you about myself, please tell me something about yourself. Who are you? Where are you from and why are you on the run?" Brandon asked. He had already read her mind and knew all that he needed, but he still wanted to hear it from her mouth.
The woman nodded. "My name is Shiera. My mother was a bed slave at Lys and I lived my life as a slave since I was born. I do not know who my father was and I neither care to know. When I was six name-days old a wealthy merchant of Lys purchased both me and my mother from the brothel where I was born."
"My mother became his personal bed slave while for some reason he started to educate me in letters and numbers. At that time, I had no idea why I was granted this privilege, but my mother encouraged me to follow our master's wishes. A few years passed and soon my mother gave birth to our master's bastard daughter, my half-sister, Sylvia." Shiera spoke with a light smile. "Everything was going wonderfully. Even though I was a slave, my master treated me like a man would treat her daughter. I was twelve and educated, Sylvia was two and was starting to walk. My mother was with another child from our master, it felt like nothing could go wrong. But the gods' kindness soon ended and Bakkalon took her and her child."
"After my mother passed away, my master became quite cold. He was stern and unbothered most of the time." She softly continued, "Two years later I was a flowered maiden while my sister was four. My master started to look at me strangely." She chuckled hollowly, "At first I thought he would use me as a replacement for my mother in his bed, but that never came. Instead, he taught me the ins and outs of his spy network. Over the years he spent most of his fortune profits building his spy network as he dreamed of one day joining the Conclave of Magisters and becoming one of the ruling elite of Lys."
"But then tragedy struck again," Shiera sighed heavily, "Three years later my master died from a sudden heart fall and all that he owed went to his son and heir, including me and my sister."
"My current master is…not a smart man." She began hesitantly, "Unlike his father, he doesn't possess a good head but does have a sadistic heart. His mother, my master's wife also shares a cruel heart like her son, especially towards me and my sister."
"I…I…I may have not been used by my master as a bed slave but his son didn't share the same sentiment for me." Shiera's eyes looked hollow, "I didn't resist my apparent fate, and as long as he and his mother heard my screams, they left my sister alone."
"However, due to my current master's incompetency, he has lost several businesses of his father and debts are being called due. From what I was able to learn from the other bed slaves of my current master, he was planning to sell my sister to the slave masters at Yunkai."
Shiera wiped her tears and continued, "I don't want my sister to be a bed slave like my mother and me. But I could not see a way out of that fate, so I was almost ready to throw myself and my sister out of the window until Ser Lucifer suddenly came to rescue us. He offered me a solution to that situation if I was willing to assist his friend. Seeing there were no other options, I accepted and he smuggled me and my sister out of Lys and sent me to Oldtown."
"To come meet me," Brandon said. "To come and meet you." Shiera nodded and confirmed.
"I feel terrible for the hardship you had to face, my lady." The Winterfell heir gave a wan smile, "What were you honestly expecting from that agreement?"
"A free life for my sister, my lord." The silver-blond beauty replied. "I am honestly willing to accept the rest of my life as a bed slave if it meant my sister could have a better life." Brandon looked through her mind, finding no lies in her words. "Forgive me for asking, my lady, but how old are you?"
"Next week I will be nineteen." The Winterfell heir smiled, "Well, in that case, It would be very disgraceful if you didn't receive any gifts," She looked at him in confusion, "My lord?"
"What I mean is that, if you swear your loyalty and fealty to me then I can provide you and your sister with warm beds and a belly full of food," Brandon explained. "Only if you swear your fealty and remain loyal to me for the rest of your life."
"My lord, I would gladly serve you in any way possible, but my sister—"
"You and your sister will be treated with respect and care, under my authority." Sheira bowed with deep gratitude, "Then, I swear in the name of Mirabella, the goddess of love and beauty, I will serve you till the day Bakkalon claims me. I will obey your every command, be your comfort in the hours of your need and warm your bed in the coldest night."
Brandon chuckled, "As much as I appreciate your beauty, my lady, I think you could have left the last part out. As you can see I am…how should I put it…."
"Yes, my lord. I noticed you are quite…young for such…pleasurable activities."
"I bearly qualified as a child." He snorted, "Besides, I need you as my spy mistress. Nonetheless, I appreciate your offer. If in the far future, I need such a service, I will remember you first."
"Now, do you still have access to your previous master's spy network?"
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, my lord, but after my master died and I became his son's bed slave, the spy network dissolved. And since I couldn't maintain any contact with them properly due to my new predicament, many of them drifted far away from my reach."
The Winterfell heir nodded in understanding. "Will you be able to create a new spy network for me, my lady?" He asked. "It will take some time and a lot of gold but I can do that, my lord." She replied.
"Does your former master's son and his mother know about the spy network?"
Sheira shook her head in denial, "No, my lord. Only me and my former master knew about it." Brandon nodded, "Well, in that case, I welcome you into my service, lady Sheira. You and your sister will be under my protection from this day till my last day." The silver-blond beauty bowed. "Thank you, my lord. I promise I will not disappoint."
"Good, then I suggest you pack your things quickly. Tomorrow, we sail for Winterfell."
Thank you for reading. Please leave a review or comment.
Sorry for the delay I was kind of dealing with some personal issues. I'll try to update every 1-2 weeks.
I have added a few things that were not mentioned in the books yet.
The magic spells and alchemy which will be used throughout the fic will be from Harry Potter, The Witcher 3 and Skyrim. Not going too crazy with this.
I didn't want to use ASOIAF's magic system because it does not explain how magic in general works in the universe. So, I had to use something I could work with.
Maester Boros is a created character and so are Sheira and her sister.
Mirabella is the name of the goddess of love and beauty that I gave as the name of the goddess on Lys's coin is still not known.
Chapter 4 is on the site that starts with P and ends with N. [Cough-Pa-atreon-cough]
Anyway, Pa-atreon plug by the same username. Support me if you want, it will be swell, no pressure.
Link is: pa-atreon {dot} com/ blazerinfinity
Peace.
