"There is no avoiding this war; it can only be postponed to our advantage. We've postponed it too much already, so much so that it will soon be to the enemy's advantage rather than ours. No more."
Excerpt of "The Second Great War" by Tiberius Octum
Jon Arryn
Despite spending nearly sixteen years in King's Landing, the distinctive pungent smell of the capital woke Jon before his worries about the realm could. The Hand of the King got out of his bed and drank some of the wine on his nightstand; woe to the man brave enough to drink water from King's Landing.
As Jon got decent, he reminded himself to ask Varys about the situation on the Westerlands. The rumors about foreign ships from a foreign continent could not be allowed to get out of hand sooner rather than later The Iron Throne would have to address their existence, for they do exist, as Lord Tywin himself had confirmed, and they were interested in making trade with Westeros.
Jon's plans for the day were to spend time with his boy, read over future court disputes, attend the Small Council meeting, and rule. His good health, thank the seven, allowed his busy schedule to remain busy, which in turn allowed Robert to do anything but rule.
When Jon left his quarters, the sun had already risen and another day downed over the capital, bringing with it another round of intrigue and strangers wearing familiar faces.
When Jon entered his solar, he was met with Ser Hugh, the boy-knight dutifully guarding Jon's place of work as ordered.
"My Lord," Ser Hugh greeted him. "Lord Varys called for an emergency meeting of the small council. He requested that the council convene as soon as possible." Ser Hugh informed, his face gaining a frown when pronouncing Varys' name. Jon simply nodded at his knight as his mind began thinking about the reasons for Varys' unusual request for an emergency meeting. The last time the Essosi Master of Whispers called for a small council meeting it was to inform on Daenerys Targaryen's wedding to the dothraki horse lord. Jon refrained from straying too much into Varys' motivations, knowing that the man would undoubtedly weave his web during the next small council meeting.
"Well, I shall break my fast here; therefore, I ask you to go fetch my lady wife and my boy from their quarters and get them here. Once I have broken my fast, I will direct the Small Concil to convene." Jon began; his voice had a tone of finality as if informing not only Ser Hugh but himself. Ser Hugh nodded, bowed his head, and walked out of Jon's solar to fetch Lysa and little Robert. Jon turned to his papers, many of them from his bannermen and landed knights, and started reading. The Vale was faring well compared to other kingdoms, and Gulltown was growing with many new trade deals with the Free Cities; according to Jonas Arryn, it was due to some fellow named Baelish, an old friend of Lysa, if Jon's mind didn't fail him.
The Royces were complaining about the mountain tribes—complaints which Jon had been hearing for years. The only time the mountain tribes stopped causing trouble was when Ned was fostering in The Vale. The Redforts were in a dispute with the Waynwoods of Ironoaks over a silver mine long forgotten and recently found; Jon would write to the Citadel about that, hopefully and an old map would tell who had the rights over the mine's lands.
As Jon got his feather and tipped it in the ink, his lady wife and son walked into his solar; little Robert walked in with a big smile on his face. Robert had Jon's blonde hair and Lysa's blue eyes, making him a very comely child.
"Father!" Young Robert explained as he walked around Jon's table to give him a hug, a hug Jon readily returned with enthusiasm.
"Good morrow, Lord Husband." Jon heard Lysa's voice while Robert was still in his arms; she sounded happy, something Jon worked hard to achieve. Their marriage was not one of love; it was one of duty. Jon knew that marrying a man older than one's father was not a young woman's dream, which was the reason why Jon indulged many of Lysa's fancies, which in turn made a sad marriage less unbearable and somewhat tolerable.
"I had hoped to start on my work before you arrived." Jon began with a smile on his face, his son moved from his arms and sat down on a nearby table where they usually ate. "But I shant complain about such a delightful surprise." Jon said to his son; he then got up and looked at Lysa. "Lady wife, I hope you had a good night. Come, let us sit down and break our fast. I have matters to discuss with you." Jon sais. Lysa gave him a small nod and sat down on the table with their son. She looked at him and seemed curious about Jon's words.
"So, Robert, how goes your sword training? Ser Hunter informed me you learned how to handle your sword well for one so young." Jon began, his smile growing smaller but still on his face.
"Indeed, I am doing well, father; I have beaten many other pages." The boy said proudly. At the corner of his eyes, Jon saw Lysa's smiling; he found it beautiful; sadly, she didn't smile too much.
"You have lost many times as well. Ser Hunter told me you must be more aware with your shield, child. I remember Ned ringing Robert's head like a bell many times." Jon began, his mind going back to a simpler time "That hulking man never learned how to use a shield, not that he needed one after growing like a tree years later." Jon commented as a bashful sigh left his lips. He saw the smile leaving his son's face, which made Jon a little sad. "Do not be disheartened, Robert. You win far more than you lose. I am proud of you, and I know you will learn the shield like your namesake learned the warhammer or Arthur Dayne learned the sword. You are an Arryn after," Jon said, and his son's smile immediately returned to his young face.
"I will, father." Robert replied, his head nodding rapidly as Jon ruffled his hair. As Jon talked with his son, the servants walked in carrying the food. Jon let them set the table silently, as did Lysa and Robert. They remained silent as they began eating.
"Lysa, I shall need a favour of yours." Jon began after swallowing a good piece of goose breast; the delicacy was cooked perfectly by the Reachman cook. Lysa gave him a puzzled look; not used to be asked for favours by Jon.
"Lord Jason Mallister has called his son back to Seagard; he has taken ill and will need his son to take care of his holdings... That means we shall soon be without a master of coins." Jon began; his eyes betrayed his worry. Patrek was the secret behind Seagard's miraculous recovery after the floods hit the Riverlands; despite enjoying drinking and whoring, the man had an extremly keen mind for finance and trade. He joined with Stannis and used the Royal Fleet to trade goods with Essos, which in turn lessened the crown's debt from three million gold dragons to little more than one million gold dragons. The Young Mallister was thoughtful enough to pay The Lannisters first and work on a no-tax deal with Braavos, which basically meant that unless the crown borrowed more coins from the Bravossi, the tax cut would pay the debt in the next ten years, give or take.
"What would you have me do, Lord Husband?" Lysa asked confusedly as the puzzled look on her face grew more pronounced.
"I would have you write to your friend Baelish. You have told me about his prowess and achievements in Gulltown; I've written to my cousins from Gulltown, who have confirmed your words as true." Jon began, and the confused look on Lysa's face morphed into a happy one. Jon would go as far as to call it excited. "I would name him Master of Coin."
"Yes, Lord Husband, I shall write to Petyr. I knew you would come to realize his intelligence." Lysa exclaimed, and Jon smiled at her. They finished breaking their fast in a better mood; Lysa seemed pleased about having her childhood friend near, and Young Robert seemed to pick on his mother's mood, making the start of his day far more enjoyable than one would've otherwise.
Jon was the last to arrive at the small council chambers. He walked into the room, and all the lords present rose to greet him; he nodded at them in return. Stannis looked as stern as ever; the man would break before he'd bend. Renly looked the exact opposite of Stannis, uninterested in anything remotely related to duties; the young Baratheon was remiss even in the way he portrayed himself. Varys looked like always, a mystery wrapped in a riddle hidden inside a maze. Patrek had a worried look to his face, his father's health clearly weighting on his mind.
Ser Barristan stood in the corner of the room; he looked like he always had, a living legend. Pycelle looked like a dead man in his chair.
"My Lords," Jon bagan as he sat down, the other lords following suit. "Let us start then." Jon asked as he looked at the other small council members; all of them seemed ready except Varys, the Essosi eunuch seemed to want to speak
"His Grace the King will be attending this small council meeting, Lord Hand." Varys said, and Jon tried to hold the surprise on his face. He had failed if Varys's small smile was any indication.
"Well, it seems the world never ceases to wonder." Renly commented, and Jon sighted.
"So this is either about Eddard or the Targaryens." Jon spoke as his eyes pinned Varys down. The eunuch simple smiled at Jon condescendingly and bowed his head. Jon decided to go silent less he offend the eunuch.
Jon and the other members of the small council stayed in silence for a few more minutes before Robert entered the chamber with a goblet of wine in his hands and a Lannister boy on his tail. He pointed a finger a Varys and opened his mouth
"Speak," Robert billowed, his loud, strong voice giving Jon a hint that the reason for Robert's presence had nothing to do with Eddard.
" Your Grace" Jon and Varys spoke at the same time; a few seconds later, Patrek and Pycelle followed suit. Stannis and Renly only bowed their heads but remained silent. Robert gave none a response; he kept his eyes on Varys.
"Daenaerys Targaryen is pregnant." Varys said simply, and Jon felt his the beginning of a headache.
"I want the whore dead!" Robert said as he trew his body on the king's chair. Jon looked at Robert as if the man was an idiot, which was probably true, not that Jon would ever say it out loud.
" Why? The child won't be Targaryen. If its a boy, he will be a Dothraki Horse Lord, and that's if he grows to be a good warrior. Other than Rhaegar, there haven't been many Targaryen warriors lately." Jon said. His reluctance to send assassins to kill the Targaryens was born out of practicality, if anything else. Viserys was as mad as his father if Varys's birds were to be trusted, and Daenaerys was no longer a Targaryen.
"There are people out there that still call me a usurper, Jon." Robert began, and Jon shook his head at Robert's obsession with the Targaryen.
"There is no House in Westeros that would follow a Dothraki savage. It doesn't matter which side of the war they fought on." Jon began, "No one wants a plage such as the Dothraki in the seven kingdoms. There's also the fact they are only a light cavalry. If they do try to invade, which is impossible as no Dothraki in thousands of years ever sailed in a ship, our fleets will smash them in the sea." Jon reasoned, and Robert looked angry at Jon's disregard for his imaginary threat to the realm.
"DO NOT PATRONIZE ME, JON." Robert began, but Jon got up from his chair and interrupted the King.
"You will talk to me with respect, boy. I raised you since you were a child, and I'll not accept such disrespect to my face. You are the king, not a wildling chieftain. Act like a king," Jon spoke; his voice was louder than Robert's, but unlike Robert, Jon kept his grace even when shouting. Robert seemed surprised at Jon's outburst; it was the first time in years Jon raised his voice at Robert. It was also the first time ever Robert shouted at him. Robert recovered quickly, however, and looked at Varys.
"I apologize." Robert said curtly without looking at Jon. His face was red—either of rage or embarrassment, Jon couldn't tell.
"Can you send an assassin to kill the dragonspawn?" Robert asked calmly as he caught his breath. All around him, Jon saw the Lords of the Small Council with their mouths all but agape.
"It is indeed possible, Your grace." Varys said simply, and Robert looked at Jon, who shook his head.
"It must be done, Robert; the girl is a threat." Stannis said simply, and Renly nodded at his brother's opinion.
"Stannis is surprisingly right; for all his dourness, he speaks the truth. The girl must be killed." Renly said the dig at his brother, making Stannis grit his teeth.
"Must… such a heavy word for you to use, Renly... What do you know of musts?" Stannis began, his voice as cold as a night in The North "You must do many things, but the only thing you do... Is the Tyrell boy...still under your… employ?" Stannis spoke, his pauses and words making the double meanings not hidden at all. Renly immediately paled at Stannis' words; he made to answer but was interrupted by Robert.
"Cut it!" Robert bellowed. He looked at Patrek, who grimly nodded his head. .
"It must be done; the realm has seen war too many times already. We can't have the Targaryen be to the Baratheon dynasty what the Blackfyres were to the Targaryens." Patrek spoke and Robert nodded. Robert then looked at Pycelle, who also nodded, but he wasn't grim at all.
" Indeed… If left alone, the Targaryen children might grow to be a significant problem down the line. It must be done. What is the life of two children compared to that of thousands?" Pycelle spoke; his speech was slow and dodeling, like the man portrayed himself to be. Jon felt his face heat; he didn't feel much for the Targaryen children, but it was not honorable. Knives in the dark was a coward's weapons
"Don't do it, Robert. Its not honorable... Knives in the dark..." Jon spoke, leaving the meaning unspoken; Robert seemed to grasp it but chose to ignore it.
"Do it Varys." Robert said simply, and Jon shook his head but remained silent; going against Robert in this matter would only bring bad things.
"Is there anything else? AND do not start on counting coppers." Robert spoke as he looked at Varys; the eunuch simply nodded his head
"It seems Lord Stark's baseborn son is returning to Winterfell." Varys spoke, and Robert's eyes shone with something other than hate.
"AH, the bastard boy. What has he been up to?" Robert exclaimed; he seemed genuinely happy about Ned's bastard returning home.
"He found himself on this new land in the West." Varys spoke, and Jon sat up straight. "According to my little birds, the boy was an apprentice to the emperor of that land. He also holds the title of an archmage." Varys began, a big frown adorning his face. "That land is said to be even more magical than Old Valyria. My little birds, all of them, claimed to have seen them using magic as casually as a knight uses a sword. Jon Snow is said to have reached the highest title a magic user can achieve. One amongst fifty." Varys commented, and Renly chose that moment to regain his cheek. The Lord of the Stromlands laughed.
"Do they also have grumpkins and snarks? Do the Others also roam their lands?" Renly japed, and Varys simply smiled at the man but didn't offer a rebuttal.
"Indeed. As grim as it seems, it is true. Lord Tywin himself sent a raven; in that raven, he informs how magic seems to be an everyday thing for these people. Lord Tywin bought a sword with all the attributes of a Valyrian sword as well as being capable of burning anything it cuts and returning to the holder's hands once thrown." Pycelle said, his doddling voice cut through the air as a hot knife through butter. If Tywin claimed they had magic, then the possibility of them really having it was almost certain.
"That bastard of Lord Stark's... how powerful is the boy?" Stannis asked, essentially breaking the silence
"According to the other mages, extremely powerful." Varys began, "Jon Snow is said to have extreme control over ice magic. Ormond Westerling claimed to his brother that the boy froze the ocean, from the point their ships were anchored all the way to the horizon." Varys continued. "My little birds investigated that information, and all sailors of Ormond's ships claimed the same." Varys finished; he seemed out of his depth for the first time since Jon met the man. Jon understood that information, if real, could mean the world had a new superpower, a new monster, like the Valyrians of old.
"Lord Tywin didn't say anything about a bastard in his letter." Pycelle said, "Where is the bastard, and why has he refused to meet his Queen's father?"
"Eddard Stark has not had a good opinion on House Lannister since the sack of Kingslanding. Even in Riverun the man spoke against the murder of Rhaenys, Aegon, and Elia Martell." Patrek began, his comment making Pycelle's eyes narrow. "The boy must have Ned Stark honor; he would not stand in House Lannister's halls if his father thought so little of its lord." Jon looked at Robert and saw his eyes grow cold. Jon remembered that day; Ned and Robert had almost come to blows. Ned called them for what they were: murders. He demanded justice, but Robert denied it. Ned then left to lift the siege of Storm's End and look for his sister.
"Jon Snow rode North back to his family on the day before his fleet commander sailed to Casterly Rock." Varys said, "He passed by Oldstones with a large party a week past. He should be in the North already." Varys finished with a grimace. The North was very hostile to Varys' little birds; they could get a rumor out of there, but only the rumours small folk had access to. The northern lords were notoriously untrusting of southerners.
"Lord Tywin also sent a raven to His Grace's eyes only." Pycelle began as he pulled a scroll from within his robes and handed it to Robert. Robert grabbed the scroll with a scowl in his face and started reading it. Jon traded looks with Stannis and Renly, both of them as obvious as Jon himself. Instead of raging, laughing, or being indifferent to whatever message Tywin had written, Robert was purely contemplative; he then nodded and gave the scroll to Ser Barristan, who promptly burned it.
"Jon Snow is to build a magical portal connecting that land to Westeros. The emperor of that land will send his youngest daughter to be a representative of theirs. She will have power to place and waive tariffs and make arrangements in her father's name." Robert spoke, his tone leveled and cautioned. "She will arrive in Kingslanding in the back of a dragon." Robert finished as his words brought silence to the chamber, the only sound being that of breathing.
"Impossible. Dragons are gone!" Renly said. The prancing stag was obviously in shock, simply speaking the first thing that came to his mind. He got rewarded with a slap on the back of his head by Robert.
"We know nothing of that land, you fool. They could have a thousand dragons, and we would know nothing, you idiot cunt." Robert began, and with each word he started swinging at Renly, who could only try to defend himself. "Stop dodging and face it like a man, you stupid boy!" Robert billowed, and Jon finally had enough; he got up from his chair and looked deep into Robert's eyes.
"You will stop this madness, Robert." Jon said calmly; his voice was no louder than a whisper, and that cold calm seemed to do the work. Robert sat down, but his finger was pointed at Varys.
"MAKE YOUR DANMED BIRDS FLY THERE!" Robert shouted at the spider, who nodded and bowed his head.
"The Targaryens…?" Stannis asked, and Robert nodded as he took swung of his new wine goblet.
Jon stopped whatever he was going to say and looked at Stannis with wide eyes. As did Renly and Patrek.
"No sane emperor would allow it." Stannis said, and Robert laughed, his gobbled of wine cast to the side as he grabbed the whole jug.
"Do you want to fucking risk IT, Stannis?" Robert asked calmly, and Stannis denied with his head.
"Jon Snow is the answer... if he has the same honor as his father, he would never let a Targaryen sit the throne. They killed his grandfather, uncle, and aunt, and Jon Snow has their emperor ears…" Jon spoke, and Robert looked at him
"Write to Ned. Tell him to get any information from the boy!" Robert spoke, and Jon nodded. Robert got up and looked at Varys.
"Kill the whore!" He said as he walked out of the chamber.
Calanye Octum
Calanye awoke to the noise of birds; the third imperial princess' drak hair was sprawled on her large pillow in her massive bed. The granddaughter of Akatosh kept her eyes closed as her mind took a few minutes to start and acquaint itself with a new day. Calanye quickly cast a candlelight spell on her room's door to let the servants know she was ready to start her day, she sat up in her bed, white nightgowns adorning her body like another blanket. Quickly several servants entered her room, carrying her morning needs and opening her wardrobe to fetch a new set of clothes. Her room was a large one, with many chambers inside, including a personal solar, a thermae,an alchemy lab, and an enchanting room. Calanye silently allowed the servants to set things up for a bath, and once the water was warm, she got out of her nightclothes and entered the thermae. The Half-Nord-Half-Atlmer princess didn't allow the servants to scrub her, as she considered such things too invasive. The servants, already accustomed to the princess routine, left the room, allowing the princess her privacy.
As she soaked in her thermar, Calanye contemplated the last four years of her life. She had asked her father to allow her to study destruction at the University of Alinor; her father allowed it so, as he did any other reasonable request from any of his daughters. Calanye had parted as a mere adept in the destruction school and returned a master, warping the elements with such ease it unerverved herself at times. Two moons ago, she had returned at her father's bequest, as did Morihatha and Kintyra. Calanye and her sisters would be spending time with their father, learning his plans for the new continent in the east, where Jon currently was. Morihatha as the heir to the empire, not that she would ever outlive their father, and the future High Queen of Skyrim had to stay informed about the happenings in the east, especially as Skyrim had a ship or two in the expedition and would inevitably be one of the forerunners to trade with the continent to the east. Father also had plans for Calanye herself, plans which he didn't divulge yet, plans that required her to finish her semester at the University of Alionor earlier than intended. Nahfahlaar, the diplomat Dovah, was also summoned by Father, as was Grahkrindrog. That meant Father didn't intend to conquer the new continent but ally with it.
"You need to get ready, darling. Your father is waiting for you." Her mother spoke, breaking Calanye's peace. She briefly wondered how her mother had managed to sneak on her; the answer came as fast as the thought left her mind. Her mother was powerful—more powerful than many archmages.
"I AM getting ready, mother." Calanye said as she tilted her head, allowing her mother to place a kiss in her cheek "If Father was dissatisfied with me, he would let me know." Calanye commented. Her mother made a disagreeing sound, her Altmer upbringing surfacing at the perceived disrespect to her father; she didn't comment on it, however, merely sat in a stool behind the Thermae and began passing her hands through Calanye's hair.
"Your father would never show his insatisfaction with any of his daughters, especially not with you, the apple of his eyes." Her mother said, to which Calanye smiled like a little girl she used to be. Her mother continued messing with her hair, making Calanye let out a satisfied humming sound. "Your father will make you the ambassador of the Empire in Westeros. Jon is currently in his childhood home; your father tasked him with opening a portal so you and four Blades can go through. Once in there, you will shout for Grahkrindrog. You are to go to that land's capital on Dovah back." Her mother informed her. Calanye was not unhappy with the prospect of getting to see Jon's childhood home or seeing Jon again for the first time in years. She was unhappy to go to a land without magic, a land where her family didn't rule over and where her last name had not the power to make even the most reckless of men feel fear. She was extremely unhappy to have to go knee deep into politics.
"Why me, mother? Why not Kintyra? Or Mori?" Calanye asked; she was not frustrated per se, only miffed and curious. Her mother only laughed hard for a few long seconds, making Calanye's already irritated mood worse.
"My dear, Mori would summon every sigle Dovah in Skyrim and ravish their land at the first sign of disrespect, perceived or real. There's also the fact she would have to work with Jon, and I'm sure they would end up killing one another. That boy called her a redwood tree once. Kin, on the other hand, is currently running a study on Blackreach's unique fugi and how they can affect the future of alchemy; she is only here to petition funds to your father. She would never do politics, dear." Her mother spoke, her voice dripping with unrestrained love and mirth. "Your father would never send me, and I wish not to leave my husband's side. Nor do I wish to leave my empire. You are the most capable person your father could send." Her mother said, and Calanye nodded her head. Her father had all the people he really trusted already in high positions within the empire itself, helping him run his empire and making sure his will was followed and the people's needs were heard.
"Good. Your father and I needed you to do this with the understanding of the trust we shoulder you with. You will represent your father's interest in foreign land with foreign costumes. Very few things will be solved with violence, at least directly. Politics shall be your main weapon in this endeavor." Her mother said as she got up, she shook her hands dry and gave a loving look at Calanye. "Go get dressed and meet your father at the top of the White-Gold Tower. You will not be alone there." Her mother informed her, and Calanye nodded.
Calanye's steps echoed in the staircase to the top of the White-Gold Tower; behind her two Blades followed, their faces expretioneless and eyes vigilant. Calanye wore a black dress with small imperial red dragons into it; her dark black hair was stlyled in Altmer fashion with a small bun on top and the rest flowing down.
As she reached the door that would open to the tower's summit, she was greeted by two Blades who bowed their heads and opened the door. The White-Gold Tower's summit was an enormous circular roofless room; it had four arches on the cardinal points, each of them with carvings representing one of the four empires. There were also four large stone structures for Dragons to perch; on the northern wall, there were two large thrones as well as ten smaller thrones, stlyled after the ten major races of Tamriel, five to the right and five to the left of the larger thrones. On the center of the room, there was a large round stone table with more than fifty stone chairs. All thrones and stone chairs were empty, however, and there were only a few people there at the moment.
Her father was already there, as were her sisters, High Chancelor Calandor, Nahfahlaar Grahkrindrog, and a few other people. Her father was talking with the Nahfahlaar in Dovahzul; the red dragon reported his exploits as the protector of a small fleet of trading vessels from Elswyr. Morihatha was talking with Grahkrindrog, also in Dovahzul; her sister spoke of how she killed a vampire with one arrow using the bow of Auri-el, and the dragon spoke of a failed hunt he pursued in the northern sea, a leviathan larger than the White-Gold Tower itself. High Chancelor Calandor was talking with a Breton noble from Wayrest and two Redguards from the forebearer faction. The Altmer Chancelor was the first to notice Calanye's entrance; he signaled a signal with his hands, calling her to him. Calanye nodded her head and slowly walked towards the high chancelor. The Breton bowed his head when he saw her, as did the two redguards.
"Princess" Calendar spoke, his voice barely hiding his frustration at something. The Altmer Chancelor wore traditional Altmer fashion, with fabrics shaping his upper body in an inverted triangle. "It has been years since I last saw you. The reports of your exploits at the University of Alinor reached my ears, and I must say I find myself impressed." Calandor said; his voice was that of a proud uncle or something of the sort, which was somewhat understandable as Father and Calandor have been friends for more than thirty years. Calandor lived and breathed the empire during all these years; he was Father's greatest friend in the Imperial City and the man he trusted the most. Calandor was a family friend, one who was always there in the best moments.
"I thank you, High Chancellor. Coming from an imperial battlemage, any complement is a worthy one." Calanye spoke; she turned to the men around them and smiled, "And who do we have here, High Chancelor? I see a knight of Wayrest and members of the proud Fobearer faction." Calanye asked, and the Breton and Redgaurds stood straighter as Calanye mentioned them.
" Naturally, your highness is right in both accounts." Calandor began; he put his hands on the Breton's shoulder. "This right here is Ser Edywin of Wayrest, a knight of the Silver Rose order." The Breton bowed his head and Calanye eyebrows rose, she had thought the order of the Silver Rose would be dead as all connections to oblivion were severed.
" These two are Majid and Willet, retainers of High Lord Kematu of Stros M'kai. They are all here for the same reason as much as their objectives are fundamentally different." Calandor said, both Redguards saluted Calanye, their eyes showing the respect the Redguards had for her father.
" Hon ahrk thaar dii uth, mid gein. Hi fent dein hin thur zoklot umriid. Zu'u ris nau hi vaarnu ov ol hin midrot lost lask hi" Calanye heard her father speak, louder than before and to Grahkrindrog instead of Nahfahlaar, the whole tower shook with the power of father Thu'um, the power in the air was beyond anything mortals could understand, she as dragonblooded could barely grasp at it.
" Guard my father's greatest treasure? What does he mean by it?" Calanye murmured under her voice.
" Calanye, come" Her father said simply, his eyes still on Grahkrindrog, the dragon seemed awed at her father's words and Thu'um. Calanye obeyed her father's wishes, and slowly walked towards him
AN: Sorry for not posting a chapter last week. My moving was hectic
Next Chapter will be a direct continuation of this chapter. We will also go beck to Jon's POV.