Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

POV: Duncan

Silk Road, the residence of the Guardian of Love.

Seconds after the water was served...

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Zick had described the man's personality and character to perfection. I now understood why the Watcher would not tolerate any disrespect from me...

Leyton Hightower was a true Nobleman. A temperate, brilliant man, flexible-minded but ready for conflict, dutiful in his duty, respectful towards Power and constantly aware of the heavy burden of responsibility laid on his shoulders.

There was constantly a bright warning sign in front of me: {Level 12; Class Lord}. But the emanating presence showed no trace of hostility. He was not the monster in disguise I imagined... he was a man. Simply a man, upholder of the correct principles, but born and bred into the wrong faction.

Part of me felt sorrow knowing that one day, not so far away, depending on whatever agreement was made today, that individual would become one of my most bitter enemies. I would gladly have paid mountains of gold to get Leyton on my side, but that would remain a fantasy...

The floor was mine.

"I do not know whether or not Oldtown was complicit in the Great Disaster of Valyria, but your assiduous 'badgering' aimed at the Dragon Dynasty and the Politics of the North is quite reprehensible... Many a war has been orchestrated by the Andalusian Council. And let us not waste time on innuendo and wordplay; Oldtown is moving to declare war on us on all fronts."

"{If you want Peace, prepare for War} was one of the first teachings of my predecessor. It has been centuries since the Andal Council diligently complied with every Treaty of Vaes Diaf clause. Every past action of my House, including The Dance of Dragons, never violated any rule.

No sword of Oldtown has ever been turned against the Royal Protected Dynasties. And House Targaryen is not part of the circle. It was our right to move against a potential threat to our people. The 'orchestrated wars' you refer to were necessary to avoid a prelude to another Great Disaster. Humanity will always seek conflict. Oldtown, like the Three Guardians, acts to prevent wars fought from remaining 'small' and 'manageable'." Leyton's gaze grew harder, and he went on to say:

"What the 'First Men' are doing, in this generation, is inciting all the Great Factions to take sides and prepare at each other's throats... Is this really what you seek, Ser?

A World War? Every corner of the Unknown World plagued by Chaos? The suffering of millions of innocents...? Should you listen to me, years, if not decades, dominated by Suffering, Destruction, and Death may be avoided." Leyton was good at conveying the intensity of his intentions. A catastrophic scenario began to haunt me. Cold shivers and feelings of revulsion tingled from the tips of my toes to my neck.

A part of me yearned for war. All the training, the plans, the close alliances, the countless preparations made and yet to be completed served that long-awaited moment, but... from the opposite side, a more minor, less loud-voiced part was crying and begging me to stop now. It begged me to never again throw myself into that horror... I felt my hands stained with sticky blood and emanating a foul iron stench.

I got up and approached the hearth, trying to wash away and dry that unpleasant sensation.

"I hear you, Lord Leyton... So, what does Oldtown propose to avert such a disaster?" Leyton took the opportunity to stand up in turn and approach me. Then, the man articulated in a clear but quieter voice the following terms:

"Pay the price necessary to appease The King in the Yellow, then cut ties with Carcosa.

Offer the Titan Council a sufficient cooperative share of the Never Winter Bank and appease the conflict of interest with the Iron Bank.

Distribute Damascus Steel 'evenly' to every corner of the World and maintain the balance of the Great Powers.

Open the Northern borders to Oldtown and consolidate the union between First Men and Andals in the marriage bond. Fair ceremonies for both New and Old Gods. And, for the sake of quiet, cease or, at the very least, 'slow down considerably' any other revolutionary 'Northern Novelties'... Any new discoveries must, at the very least, receive the approval of the leadership of the Fourth Organisation." I looked at the man with a suspicious and slightly surprised look.

"You mediated part of those terms with Madame Zishua, didn't you?" The Spider Queen had been throwing lashings and slaps at me for months to persuade me to a peaceful resolution.

''I did. Although the Lady of Pentos cunningly 'neglected' the impending news of the Silk Road, Madame Zhao Urat and I still made considerable effort to find a possible meeting point."

Twenty-six years ago, the credit for defusing World War IV did not lie solely with the Former Guardian of Love. The promising young New Lord Protector of the Andalus Council, Lord Leyton Hightower and the New Sovereign of the Shadow, Madame Zishua Zhao Urat, sat at the negotiating table for three days and nights to negotiate a lasting peace.

'Pff, that's why the Watcher went full-breasted for you with such urgency.... Zishua must have groomed Zick for good...' I thought between grins. Probably the last of that morning... Playtime had ended. And the tone became more serious.

The ruthless and bloody negotiation pit had been opened. The fate of how many souls would be determined by the following words?

"Your terms are too general, my lord. What do you mean by 'Opening the Frontiers' and 'Cutting ties with Carcosa'? Also, what would Oldtown offer in return for these exorbitant concessions?" I asked.

"We are not as blind or foolish as you think, Ser... We know you seek the Return of the Age of Magic. You have spent rivers of gold to purchase or hire every text and scribe. The Maester of Torrhen's Square's little theatre could not last long. The Citadel is aware that Qyburn has betrayed the order... Another brilliant idea of yours?"

'And it's about time, Sheep!' I wanted to rant that aloud, but I restrained myself.

"Not really... If you can, my lord, report to the honourable Grand Archmaesters that it's nothing personal. As the Braavosians say: {Business is Business}."

"Of course, I will report it to them... But I don't think it will help to assuage the repercussions of such an affront.

You should know that the Citadel has already placed a bounty of ten thousand gold dragons on the black market for Qyburn's head. I exposed myself to prevent the 'Seven Secrets' from being unleashed... Three Grand Archmaesters out of seven even voted for a more drastic 'Extremely' resolution." The Citadel was not to be trifled with. Members of the Secret Seven were one thing, but we still needed more healers or researchers to counter the Order of Maesters' weapons.

A Bubonic Plague, Cholera or worse could hit the North anytime.

"It seems like a disproportionate reaction for some information and a handful of borrowed coins. Torrhen's Square is more than willing to return every single pennies-plus interest the ninety-four thousand seven hundred gold coins allocated to Qyburn over the past three years to 'Spy', 'Steal' and 'Report' House Tallhart's trade secrets to the Citadel.

We will also offer three times the weight of our Maester in gold as a gesture of thanks and goodwill. However... in the unfortunate event that those 'Thieves' do not like such a gift and gesture of apology and demand more, it is good for the Grand Archmaesters to know this:

{The Seven Secrets will always be welcome in Torrhen's Square. The squadrons of Frost Blades, under the direct Command of Ser Qyburn, are eager to prove themselves...

Furthermore, House Tallhart is ready and will counterfeit 'Thirty Thousand Golden Dragons' for every hand, dominant or not, of any Oldtown Thief garnished with Chain, Mask, Ring and Stirrup}" Leyton looked at me cloudy-eyed and intrigued for a few moments.

"... In the South, traitors have their heads cut off, but here in the North, thieves have their hands cut off." I clarified.

"It will be my duty to inform the members directly concerned..." Promulgated Leyton with a concealed air of amusement.

"But the point remains, Ser. My voice has veto limits. Your rush to education and your ranks of healers are threatening the authority of the Citadel. If even a common Barrowton fishmonger can read, who knows what is being taught among the isolated and inaccessible villages of Torrhen's Square.

It has taken the Maesters and members of the Andal Council centuries to contain and extinguish the dying embers of the raging, out-of-control Fire, named 'Magic'... I am not asking for total prohibition of the Lost Arts, but simple control and agreed cooperation." I interjected for more clarity.

"The Andal Council wants to control the spread of education and ascertain our future research. Watchful eyes and ears, alert for every page read, rune deciphered or discovery made. An imposing whisper establishing what is forbidden and what is not..." Leyton neither confirmed nor denied.

"...The Citadel also has good Arcane knowledge. Your researchers and scholars will even be able to use much of the Forbidden Section.

We will even allow you to 'Freely Research' the Ancient Art of Life Magic. But what is paramount for the Council of Archmaesters and Andalus is that the knowledge of the East never sets foot in Westeros again.

The Confederacy has longed for its return to Westeros for millennia, and that must not happen." Leyton explained, accentuating a dash of menace in the last verse.

"And what of the Green Priests and Knights? Will the High Priests of the Starry Sept also willingly accept the breaking of their monopoly on the Knighthood and the free spread of the cult of the Old Gods?" I asked, without expressing any opinion on the first point.

"Of course, they won't accept it 'willingly'... There will be diatribes and disagreements from every priest of the Seven. It may come to a conflict of faith on the part of the most Fanatical... but it will be contained. I will expose myself to appease the most controversial of the Council. With time and gradualness, the cult of the Green Priests and Knights will return and be integrated and recognised in every corner of the Continent." This was no small concession. Oldtown and the High Creed would still have to oppose the affront publicly perpetrated by the King of the Seven Kingdoms. In all likelihood, the current Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn, will already be being buried alive by petitions and diatribes moved by the High Septon and members of the Council of Baelor...

Even for the Starry Sept, a facade of cover was necessary.

Skirmishes by fanatical cultists were inevitable. Whether the Temple of Baelor and the Red Fortress wanted it or not, blood would be spilled in the name of the Old and New Gods.

Leyton was flexing considerably to offer honest and reasonable terms.

"As for opening the Northern Gates? What is the tribute the High Tower requires?"

"... Torrhen Square must grant the Hightower House a symbolic contribution of its choice. We will settle for any 'Novelty' or 'Improvement' similarly offered to any Great Lord of the North. As well as free access to the Port of Waterdeep and White Harbour exchanges, and a 10% tribute on the black market of the North..." It was only pocket change in the Great Set.

"What else?" I asked.

"The cessation of the First Men's war augmentation.

You have free access to Damascus Steel, top-quality leather, new bows for your archers, and soon new ranks of Knights... On top of that, you have garnished your ranks of nearly twenty thousand swords, rebuilt fleets of ships in the Coasts, and gained considerable 'guidance' from The Watcher. The North has already proven that it has the means to defend itself. Further augmentation would be an open declaration of war." That was nothing compared to Oldtown's militias and Naval Braavos's fleets.

The Damascus Steel was an excellent Bellic Upgrade; there was no denying it, but still insufficient. The Valley Clans and Wildlings would have died out if only better weapons and armour were sufficient for hegemony. Several Valley Knights, fully armoured and armed to the teeth, were still pissing at the mere thought of having to charge through the ill-armed and savage ranks of those metal-hungry and bloodthirsty Barbarians.

Braavos and Oldtown feared not the war improvements of the North, for the North, but more those for the Fourth Organisation and the Confederation of Mages: for the moment, the only world forces capable of standing up to them.

The Hightower militia was top of the range on the discipline, training, mobilisation and experience front. The best cavalry in the world was stationed and ever vigilant within the walls of Oldtown. Its elite infantry, constantly tempered in the endless skirmishes of Sothoryos, could make the Ghiscarian Iron Legions envious. These forces left out the Company of the Sons of Light, the power of the Creed, and the secret arcane and alchemical weapons well guarded in the High Tower and Citadel. And I did not mention the City-Enchanted-Fortress itself and its First Keeper... To this day, I had no draft of a viable plan to breach the walls of Oldtown's defensive ranks.

The Great Wizard Protector of Oldtown was an untouchable, almost Semigod, in his High Tower. Even if Leyton emerged from there, charging recklessly at the enemy, armed with Keeper of Knowledge and spells, his war power was comparable to up to a thousand, if not two thousand, swords of the Sons of Light... And that was no exaggeration. At eighteen, the New Protector of the Council proved his valour in the field, single-handedly vanquishing over eight hundred elite members of the Fellowship of the Sons of Night in the famous 'Yeen Massacre'. From that day on, Leyton Hightower proved to the World Factions that he was a worthy rival to Chai Duq.

That man alone had the strength and ability to take me and the entire Winter Guardians unit down.

So... No! Absolutely not! A lone, open war against Oldtown was definitely out of the question!

The restoration of the Moat Cailin, the Tallhart/Dustin (now Mormont) militia and the revival of the dormant power in the dynasty of the Winter Kings were a crucial addition to the First Men's defence. However, the North still needed more numbers, preparation and magic to face the armies of Oldtown on neutral ground.

I waited a second time to give my answer on the subject. Leyton's lips were not closed, and his eyes yearned for another request....

"What else?" I asked in an annoyed but still patient tone.

The Keeper of the Hightower estate took his time with this last request. The air became more tense.... Leyton was about to throw a pretty big mine at me.

"I have largely understood your sights on the continent, Ser. You are apparently dodging interest in the Iron Throne, but at the same time, you have found a way to protect and hide the rightful heir of Dragonstone from the eyes of the world... Eight hundred million gold coins in Dragon Glass would appeal to anyone, especially a Magical Confederacy short on ingredients for their runes." Twenty-four points in will was not enough to keep my muscles from stiffening.

"You have moved prodigiously well to get the Nymeros Martell Dynasty on your side... And I suppose you've properly loosened up Highgarden as well. I wonder what on earth you could have offered that Old Thorn to spur her to sell out during the auction... New Products? Priorities on the Damascus black market? Or a 'Royal Wedding Promise' for my granddaughter Margaery?" Leyton possessed no proof. He couldn't have any. I had left no trace... Was it all the result of his intuition? Or was it the work of a power of divination? Both possibilities troubled me.

"Not to mention 'Casterly Rock'... I'd like to know what you dared report to Lord Tywin Lannister. And Lord Eddard? You could have reported every detail to the latter, leaving nothing out, 'Heir of Zick'." Finally came the most dangerous confrontation of all. One mistake, one distraction, one suspicion too many and a catastrophe of Valyria-like proportions could soon befall the entire North.

I transmuted my facial expressions into stone, ready to sing the most convincing lie ever told in the history of man. Still, before I could even inhale gaseous fuel for my vocal cords, Leyton disarmed me, thundering, "DON'T DENY IT!"

The room vibrated, and the fire absorbed some energy, changing to a more voracious and violent green hue. A fair amount of mystic power enhanced the shout... Probably, the Great Wizard cast a personal cantrip not unlike [Thaumaturgy].

"Do not dare to insult my intelligence, Duncan Tallhart! Ser Jaime's events have ousted doubt for certainty! You know...!" I remained silent.

"The Guardian of Love confided it to you, his Heir, the only First Men without Royal Dynasty to whom it could be confided... You are aware of Valgudryel, his daughter Rheyna and her consort... Podrick Lann!"

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End Chapter.

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