Skyrim System In Westeros

The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros had assembled an enormous fleet for this conquest. With confidence in a guaranteed victory, the soldiers' morale was sky-high. Camps bustled with the crackle of roasting meat over bonfires, mingled with the sounds of laughter and drinking. Nobles mingled, using the war as an opportunity to introduce their younger heirs to the aristocracy.

Particularly lively was the Greenstone Keep, where King Robert had already arrived. The gathered lords, upon seeing the mountains of supplies stored in the castle, realized that Robert's apparent lack of indulgence over the past half-year wasn't a change of heart — he had poured the crown's wealth into war preparations.

In contrast, the atmosphere in Tyrosh was tense. Craftsmen worked tirelessly to reinforce and repair the city walls. Slaves carried goods from the port to the castle in an endless stream. These measures were all part of the Tattered Prince's recommendations to the Archon. Meanwhile, Euron Greyjoy had already taken his pirate fleet out to scout the enemy.

The Stepstones sat on the brink of war, but at the Valyrian ruins' excavation site, peace still reigned. Nymeria lounged in a rocking chair, reading a book. A maid fanned her gently, while another blonde maid fed her grapes, slipping one into her mouth. Nymeria licked the maid's fingers, savoring the taste.

Nearby, Wright Baratheon trained shirtless, lifting massive stones.

"90! 91! 100!" he grunted, hurling the stone to the ground before grabbing a towel to wipe his sweat. Nymeria glanced at him and smiled faintly.

The blonde maid, watching Wright's muscular, sweat-drenched body, felt her cheeks flush with heat. Wright had been rigorously preparing for the upcoming battle, dedicating himself to training and discipline. Despite their constant proximity, Wright had restrained himself and never touched her. To her surprise, it was Nymeria who had taken her to bed instead, a fact that only deepened her admiration for Wright's character.

"Wright, how are things in the Stepstones?" Nymeria asked. She was concerned about her father, Oberyn, who would lead Dorne's forces in this war.

An icy throne rose from the ground, and Wright sat down. "Comfortable!" He sighed. "The Seven Kingdoms have been preparing for half a year, and your father will also take part. After this war, Dorne won't be able to straddle the line between being mercenaries and pirates anymore."

"And what are our chances of victory?" Nymeria asked lazily.

Another block of ice formed, and Wright propped his feet on it. He grabbed a piece of fruit and took a large bite. "Half the fleets of Westeros are descending on three Free Cities. Two of them might not even be able to send reinforcements. With such overwhelming power right on Tyrosh's doorstep, how could we possibly lose?"

Wright had no doubts about the outcome. After all, he had meticulously planned everything, and Robert had spent months preparing. If they somehow lost this battle, the Baratheons might as well retreat to Storm's End and take up farming.

Ever since Nymeria and Tyene had chosen to follow Wright from Braavos instead of staying with Oberyn, Wright had grown to trust Nymeria deeply. He had shared much of his information and strategic analysis with the two women. Tyene wasn't particularly interested, treating it all as stories, but Nymeria had started taking an interest in politics. The book in her hands, Modern History of the Seven Kingdoms, was one Wright had retrieved from the library of Black Wall.

Meanwhile, in Volantis, the infamous Golden Thief's reputation was growing. Merchants and slave owners openly cursed his name, outraged by his actions — exchanging equal amounts of silver for gold coins wasn't merely theft; it was an insult.

Rumors of theft had even reached the Black Walls, though the stolen items weren't gold. Nonetheless, the Golden Thief was blamed. The bounty on his head had now reached a staggering ten thousand gold dragons. Wanted posters, featuring only a description and no likeness, were plastered across every corner of Volantis.

Nymeria: "What will happen to my father after the war is won?"

Wright: "Prince Doran is a clever man. Years ago, we eased tensions through a marriage pact. The agreement he signed with Robert was a ceasefire, not an oath of fealty. Dorne never swore allegiance to Robert. Now your father secretly supports the remnants of House Targaryen, and by law, King Robert cannot even charge him with treason."

Nymeria found herself caught in a dilemma. Her husband was a Baratheon, while her father was a Martell of Dorne. She sought to bridge the gap. "My father faces his own struggles. He had to choose between his country and his family, and he chose his country."

Wright took her hand, gently stroking her fingers. "I understand him. If it were me, I'd make the same choice. Besides, I don't have concrete proof of what he's done, and he is your father. That's why I've never told my brother Robert about his actions."

Nymeria: "And yet you planned this war to drag my father into it?"

Wright: "Not at all. The conquest of the Stepstones was something my brothers and I decided on years ago. When I scouted the Stepstones and visited Myr, I finalized the timing for the attack. At that time, I noticed the men on your father's ships — none of them had the eyes of soldiers, they were greedy, just like Tyroshi pirates. Dealing with Dorne is simply incidental."

Nymeria felt a pang of sadness. "But Tyene and I are also Dornish."

Wright: "This is the Baratheon dynasty. As long as Prince Doran continues to support the Targaryens' restoration, he remains an enemy."

Nymeria: "When I next see my father, I'll try to persuade him."

Wright said nothing, simply squeezing her hand. He had no illusions that Nymeria could change Oberyn's stance.

Suddenly, a deep rumble shook the ground. The earth trembled, large boulders crashing down the nearby mountains, leaving trails of dust as they smashed into the forest. Tables and chairs wobbled.

Earthquakes were common in the Valyrian ruins; sometimes, cracks in the ground even spewed lava. Having lived here for months, they had grown accustomed to it. But this time, Wright sensed something different. A surge of magic erupted from the excavation site, accompanied by faint murmurs.

"Nymeria, arm yourself and protect Tyene!" Wright commanded.

Nymeria immediately rose and headed into the tent without question. "Is it the excavation site or the slaves causing trouble?"

Wright followed her inside, fastening a leather belt around his waist and slotting four vials of Tyene's potions into its pouches. "It's the excavation site. They've likely hit the target. Be wary of soldiers getting greedy."

The three of them hurried to the edge of the dig site. The pit was enormous, with a spiral staircase winding down over a hundred meters deep. Now, hordes of slaves were fleeing the pit.

"Stop!"

"No one is allowed to run!"

Soldiers cracked their whips, striking the fleeing slaves in an attempt to quell the chaos. More armed soldiers were rushing in from the camp.

Wright grabbed one of the soldiers by the arm. "What's going on down there?"

The soldier, busy lashing at the escaping slaves, was spun around by Wright's grip. He opened his mouth to curse but immediately recognized Wright and saluted nervously. "Lord Wright, the dig site has broken through to a cavern at the bottom. There was a collapse, and many slaves fell into it. When the soldiers went down to rescue them, a strange wind blew out of the cavern, and everyone below just died!"

Wright extended his magical senses towards the pit. At its darkened bottom, the cavern radiated a rapidly intensifying concentration of magic. Faint, incomprehensible whispers echoed from within. A sense of dread filled him.

"Evacuate all the slaves immediately. Their work is done. Inform their masters that the remaining gold is ready, stored at the home of Archon Dofas Pennymion."