Chapter 41 - the 2nd day of October, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest

"Describe it again, what this man looked like?"

"I told you, I don't know" the man pleaded, the exhaustion now plain in his voice. "He always kept his hood up."

"Then describe his voice. Was he a native speaker of the common tongue?"

"I…" the man hesitated. "He spoke it well enough, m'lord. I am not sure where he was from."

"A high pitched voice or a low pitched voice?"

"He spoke like…real soft, almost like a woman."

"What did he offer you?"

The man hesitated. "A hundred gold dragons."

"Where is the gold now?"

"Spent it."

"Had you ever had that much gold before?"

The man's eyes seemed to bulge. "I never had two gold pieces to rub together, m'lord. I never had more than one, truly."

The voices were slightly muffled through the speaker, but Fifield was able to listen with everyone else as the questions continued. It had taken three months before they'd finally had a breakthrough in the Chataya's case, then three more days of questioning to get to this point.

The goldcloaks had eventually picked up a man with fingerprints that matched those found at the brothel on the night the soldiers had been murdered. He had been arrested for a petty enough offence, a drunken brawl in the street of silk, but once identified had been swiftly seized by the Americans.

They sat now in the embassy's basement, where the yanks had converted some old cellars into usable cells. Chataya and three of the whores (the ones at least unlucky enough to have fingerprints matching those found in the same room) were still held nearby in separate cells. The rest of the girls had eventually been let go, with the brothel itself shut down. All had claimed ignorance, and no one had been able get any useful information out of them, something that had impressed their questioners. Perhaps they had been absurdly well paid for their role in the plot, or held a fanatical loyalty to their cause. Fifield suspected they were simply more afraid of their co-conspirators then of their new captors.

That had left two more sets of fingerprints outstanding, one of the owners of which now sat in the next room. To their credit, they hadn't actually 'tortured' him, not even waterboarding, but 72 hours of constant questioning, in handcuffs, near naked, under bright lights, deprived of sleep and any food except water was doing the trick.

His role in the plot had been limited. Asking variations of the same questions over and over they had pieced together what seemed to be the truth. The man was a petty thief, born in fleabottom the son of another whore. A hooded man had offered him the sack of gold, more than the man could ever hope to possess in his life. He'd eventually given up his companion's name, who sounded like an equally petty criminal. The hooded man had led them to the tunnel under the stables and down to its other end. All they had to do was wait there until someone on the other side knocked three times, open the trapdoor and carry two 'packages' back down the tunnel. These had turned out to be the unconscious bodies of the two American soldiers. They had dragged them down the passage and put them in a waiting cart for the hooded man. He had handed them over the gold, as promised, and that was the last they saw of him.

"Then the prostitutes were involved" Sullivan said, visibly angry. "We'll hand them over to Stannis when this is done."

"We still can't identify the party responsible" Fifield cautioned. "Whoever did this was very careful, professional even. It could have just as easily been a party from the slaver cities as anyone working with the Lannisters."

They watched through the cameras as the prisoner was finally given some bread and soup and then allowed to rest. The two ambassadors made their way back up above ground.

From Sullivan's office they had a view down the street. In the last few days King's Landing had become even more of an armed camp. Officially, the Chinese had declared that they had twenty-four armed guards at their embassy, but no one could quite say how many firearms they might have smuggled in through the Ring. They had almost a hundred staff, and it was safer to assume every secretary and cleaner was probably armed. Half a block further on, the Russian embassay was similarly fortified. They were confident they could take them if necessary, but it would be a bloody affair, and the impression it would leave on the Westerosi was also a concern.

The news from Taiwan had only grown more dire. There were still holdouts on Kinmen, if the reports from Taipei could be believed, but they had been reduced to a few isolated pockets under constant barrage by PRC artillery. There had been two attempts to reinforce the island, but both had ended in disaster. There had been no moves to attack the main island itself, but air battles had been raging from one end of the Strait to the other. The USS Ronald Reagan had left its anchorage in Japan, and the Americans were scrambling two other carriers to join her.

On the far side of the world, the Russians had encircled Mariupol, and so far defeated all attempts to relieve that city as well. There was talk of a full scale invasion of Ukraine, but this had so far not eventuated. After the initial bloody nose they had received, the Iranians had gone quiet in the Persian Gulf, especially after the Americans had obliterated two of their naval bases via Tomahawk missiles. Hezbollah was firing rockets at Israel again though, and there were riots in the West Bank. Meanwhile, the pandemic was keeping half the world on lockdown, with confirmed deaths just passing three hundred thousand.

This side of the Ring was no better. In the Narrow Sea Braavosi galleys were acting with impunity, stopping every ship they could, freeing any in chains and setting them loose on their former 'masters'. This had provoked what Fifield could only presume was the intended response. The slaver cities were in uproar, and calls for the expulsion of the flying men were only growing more irate. Hundreds of slaver ships were gathering off Tyrosh. The Dothraki were long gone, but a large host had now set forth from Norvos, moving down the Dragonroad to Pentos, while another, twice as large, looked to be massing in Myr.

Rolls of parchment, correspondence from two continents, were scattered over Sullivan's desk, a similar pile could be found on his own. Some came by raven and others by ship. Most were written in the usual black ink, but one shone crimson. The lab techs had confirmed it was written in hunab blood, though who's exactly they could not say. Stapled to its front was a typed translation. Fifield had already read through it a dozen times.

'To the Prince of Pentos and the most great and noble magisters of the forty families.

You have opened your gates to a great menace. The continued prescence of the Hōzalbori can no longer be tolerated.Though they make sweet promises, it is clear they will lead you only on the path to ruin.

The warmongering First Sealord and the troublesome keyholders in Braavos have betrayed the peace, swearing allegiance to the Hōzalbori in the hopes of saving themselves. Even if, by the fury of the gods, they were to succeed, they will only find themselves devoured last. Ancient ties of blood dictate we shall rise and fall together.

Great armies and fleets are poised to expel these Hōzalbori at the point of a sword. All the wisdom and magic of Old Valyria, long dormant, is being marshalled anew. Against our brothers and sisters in kin we mean no harm, but all who harbour and bow to these outsiders place themselves in danger.

It is demanded the noble magisters of Pentos join us in expelling these Hōzalbori. Refuse this final overture, and face consequences worse than you can imagine'.

At the bottom was a long list of signatures, starting with all three Triarchs of Volantis, followed by representatives from a dozen other slaver cities. All the daughters of Valyria save Braavos, Pentos and Lorath looked to have joined this new alliance.

In Westeros meanwhile the war went on. The Golden Tooth had finally yielded, after four months of siege and battle, but Casterly Rock, Highgarden, Duskendale…A raven had even arrived that morning from Gulltown, proclaiming the marriage of the Lady Lysa Arryn to Lord Peter Baelish. Among everything else that was happening it had raised surprisingly little stir, but the news had bothered Fifield somehow. In Westeros such a match was borderline scandalous, like Kim Kardashian divorcing Kanye and marrying her accountant. They had heard little of the coincounter since the fall of King's Landing, only that he had been spotted riding west with Lord Tywin, and might have even had something to do with Myrcella's survival. Somehow he must have found his way back to the Vale, and now married a woman at least three of fours steps above his station. Both sides had been courting the Eyrie for months, apparently without success. Lord Celtigar reported the Vale was still paying its share of tax to the Iron throne, but how long was that going to last?

At least they still had an internet connection. Fifield had propped up his laptop on the end of the desk. He scrolled through headlines as the media tried to make sense of events on two worlds. The Fourth Taiwan Strait Crisis? asked The Age. WORLD WAR THREE screamed the Herald Sun. Not long afterwards he heard a beep, finally admitted to the Zoom meeting. Several dozen windows popped up, an assortment of politicians, generals, diplomats and scientists from at least six nations. Justice for the murdered soldiers would have to wait. Right now they had more pressing concerns. The Prime Minister, as host, nodded at him. There was a brief round of introductions.

"Mr Fifield, Mr Sullivan, thank you again for joining us. We've been…going over your reports submitted yesterday."

"Thank you sir" Fifield replied. "It's all a bit extraordinary, I'll admit."

Images flicked up on their collective screens as he continued his briefing. A pair of jittering wights, a host of slaver soldiers marching down a dusty road, Braavosi mages stirring a bowl of water by gesture alone…Put together, the anomalies of the last year made for quite a slideshow. When he was finished, the PM gave the conclusion.

"So to sum this up. Thirteen months on from the Ring's appearance, an army of monsters out of ancient legend has reappeared at the north end of Westeros and kidnapped two of our men. Their return has been prophesied by a red witch who may or may not have murdered the king's brother with a…shadow. It turns out that magic, in some shape or form, is real on this other world. China in particular is so afraid by what knowledge we might be hiding they have started a shooting war over Taiwan as a warning to us, and our own world now teeters on the brink of World War Three. Is that about right, Mr. Fifield?"

"Yes, that's a fair summary."

"Alright, and what would your next proposed steps be?"

Fifield looked over the assembled audience.

"Honestly sir, I think matters are escalating to the point this is too big for any one nation to handle. I would propose the following…"

######

It took several days to hammer out the exact wording of the resolution, which was downright urgent by UN standards. That month, the Security Council happened to be headed by Estonia, and it was their representative who read out its wording. Representatives of the fifteen membes, five permanent and the other ten rotating, were seated around the long, crescent-shaped table. It wasn't quite a unanimous vote, Tunisia and Niger abstained, but there were no votes in the negative.

Resolution 2520 (2020)

The Security Council,

Reaffirming all previous resolutions concerning the anomaly known as the 'Ring' and the world of Planetos beyond.

Reaffirming its strong commitment to the sovereignty, independence, unity and territorial integrity of the soverign states of Planetos so far recognized by the General Assesmbly.

Expressing concern of anomalies recently discovered in the vicinity of northern Westeros that may pose a threat to soverign states on both sides of the Ring.

Decides to deploy a United Nations Peacekeeping Force through the Ring to maintain peace and stability on the continent of Westeros.

Decides that this force shall consist of three division-sized elements to be deployed by the permanent member states of the United States of America, the Russian Federation and the People's Republic of China respectively.

Decides that these divisions shall be equipped with all material necessary for sustained operations on Planetos and be trained in Arctic warfare conditions as needed.

Recognizing their role as the world's foremost military power, decides the commander of this force shall be American, but will remain answerable to the Security Council as a body.

Decides to remain actively seized of the matter.