Skyrim System In Westeros

In the Starry Chapel of the Oldtown, within a high-ceilinged hall made of black stone that stretched over ten meters, the seventy-seven High Septon sat in the audience, their hearts filled with mixed emotions as they listened to the impassioned speech of the man on the stage.

Some were hopeful, others envious, some supported, others opposed, while some were anxious about the possibility of war breaking out again—especially the Lord Leyton Hightower, who had come to observe.

The man on the stage was tall, wearing a simple gray robe and belt, his face thin and wrinkled, his gray-white hair and piercing gaze cold. "When I lash myself, I feel closest to the gods. Yet my deepest sins are nothing compared to the darkness of this man."

"YES!" A wild, sustained cheer echoed throughout the chapel. The High Septon waved their hands to silence the crowd, and after a long while, they quieted.

The hall was not only filled with the seventy-seven High Septon and Lord Hightower but also a large number of followers who had come to support him.

The Father of the Seven represented judgment, and people prayed to him for justice. Old Lord Hightower listened to the man boast, his simple attire matching his convincing words. The colorful light streaming in from the seven-colored stained glass windows above gave the impression that these fanatical followers believed this man was none other than the Father of the Seven incarnate.

Dressed in the simplest clothes and eating the most ordinary meals, he had abandoned his name and never spoke of his origins, calling himself only the High Sparrow. In less than three years, he had garnered a large following of commoners, who, although living their own lives, would gather in places like today when he commanded them.

Was he truly a man of devout faith, or was it all a mysterious ruse with other intentions?

Lord Hightower sat in the audience with a solemn expression, appearing like a devout follower, though in his mind, he was constantly thinking. Just a few days ago, he had sent all the information he had gathered on the High Sparrow to Wright, including details like how often he changed his loincloth.

Originally, House Hightower and House Baratheon had been on good terms. His eldest daughter, Malora, had studied magic under Wright and had risen from being considered the "Mad Maid" to a renowned Mage. She was now successful, and it was rumored that she was involved with Maester Qyburn. His younger son, Gunthor, had also studied under Wright on the Stepstone Islands and held a prominent position there.

However, during the Dornish War, Lord Hightower had instructed his subordinates to engage in food smuggling with Dorne. This had caused a cooling of relations between the two houses, and trade between Tyrosh and the Hightower had significantly declined. Even the northern regions of the Reach had begun making moves against the House Rowan, and with King Robert's death, Lord Hightower felt the need to reconcile the two houses. Thus, he sold the High Sparrow.

Of course, Lord Hightower didn't forget to omit the fact that he had secretly funded the High Sparrow. Without this funding, the High Sparrow wouldn't have had enough food and cloth to win over so many followers. Now, the High Sparrow was becoming increasingly dangerous, and it was time to sever ties with him. As for other nobles who had funded the man, Lord Hightower had no intention of getting involved.

"Why are the great nobles so rich while we are so poor?" the High Sparrow asked the crowd from the stage.

Cough! Lord Hightower's old ailment flared up again, and his attendant quickly presented him with a bottle of medicine.

The High Sparrow immediately realized his mistake. Speaking in the holiest chapel of the Seven, he had gotten a bit carried away. He quickly shifted topics. "Under the watchful eyes of the Seven, those who follow the faith should live a happy life. But if someone betrays the faith, the gods will punish them! And the punishment of the Seven is already upon us!"

"What?" The crowd murmured.

The High Sparrow raised his hands, pointing to the seven-pointed star symbol on the ceiling of the hall. His voice full of devotion, he loudly declared, "The vampires, looking like demons, wreaking havoc across the Seven Kingdoms, are the result of the Father's judgment, and they are a punishment sent by the Stranger, the god of death!"

"What? We've done no wrong!" The murmurs in the hall grew louder.

"Robert established the a magic school in King's Landing, disregarding the faith and filling the city with bastards! Stannis openly defied the faith and even opened a gambling den next to the Technological Institute! I, along with the faithful of the Seven, tried to stop them, but we were thrown out of the city by their lackeys. And then Renly, seeing we were gone, began selling poison! How many have died from the poison he peddled?"

"Yes, everyone knows about that."

"Exactly!"

Cough~ Pfff! Lord Hightower suddenly coughed up blood, the blood even splattering onto the white robe of an archbishop sitting next to him.

"I…" Lord Hightower gasped, unable to speak. He looked as if he were on the verge of death, and his attendants quickly began to carry him out of the chapel.

Once they had turned the corner outside and were out of sight, Lord Hightower straightened up, pulled a silk handkerchief from his chest, bit it, and winced as his tongue, which had just been bitten, still throbbed with pain. "Quickly, go inform my son, Ser Baelor Hightower. Tell him to burn all the accounts related to the Seven and the Baratheons!"

"My lord, all the accounts?" The attendant, a trusted confidant and a young member of the Hightower family, had seen the mountains of ledgers.

"The High Sparrow wants to use the faith to fight House Baratheon. Our family cannot have any ties to him! It will take at least ten days to sort through those accounts, but I want Baelor to make sure it looks like an accident and burn everything!"

Lord Hightower was filled with regret for having ever funded that madman.

"Especially Wright Baratheon! In his Tyrosh, there are Magic Schools, gambling dens, and poison shops! It's full of heretics! He's broken every rule of the Seven—he's beyond angering both gods and men!"

Meanwhile, the High Sparrow continued his fervent speech, unaware of the turmoil unfolding in the audience.

"They are in positions of power, and thus the Seven have delivered the harshest punishment—vampires! The Baratheons must face the punishment of the gods! Only by atoning for their sins can they save Westeros!"

The seventy-seven High Septon, with eleven representing each of the Seven, watched as a female priestess, her robe embroidered with the Mother, approached the Sparrow.

After whispering a few words, the Sparrow pulled her aside and shouted at her, pointing his finger.

"I do not represent any noble, I do not represent any commoner, I only represent the Seven! Anyone in the Seven Kingdoms who follows the faith of the Seven is our ally! You may burn me, but can you burn the entire Seven Kingdoms? And you—are the accomplice of sin!"

"Burn her!" Thousands of followers screamed, faces red with fervor.

The High Septon were powerless to stop the chaos, and they watched helplessly as the female priestess was dragged away by the crowd of zealots.

"We have lived on this land for generations and we cannot allow sin to spread, or else the kingdom will fall!" The Sparrow did not lose his temper. "The Baratheons must face the judgment of the Seven! We will walk from Oldtown to King's Landing to show our resolve, and along the way, more people will join us! The Seven above will surely hear our pleas!"

"For the Seven!"

"He's gone mad!" Realizing the gravity of the situation, several of the High Septon slipped away amidst the confusion.

---

"The king and the nobles have to dance to the tune of that blabbering Sparrow? What sense does that make!" the young Missandei exclaimed in anger.

"I think it's more than just this. Daenerys, do you have any other relatives out there?" Wright asked.

Daenerys, sitting in her wheelchair, thought for a moment and shook her head.

Wright suspected she didn't know. She had been carefully taught from a young age, her education selective.

"Oh! My love, I can't lose you!"

"Yes, darling, my daughter and I feel the same way."

On the opera house stage, a new play was being performed, telling the story of two mages and several tavern dancers in a love triangle. The scenes were beautifully set, the costumes both glamorous and realistic, and the actors gave superb performances, turning a complicated six-sided love story into something deeply moving.

In Wright's luxurious private box, Daenerys, Nymeria, and Kana were all crying uncontrollably. Missandei, still not understanding all the ins and outs of love, found their singing voices beautiful, while Tyene had her legs resting on Wright's lap, enjoying a massage.

"Daenerys is dying, and you still bring her to see this?" Tyene reclined on the sofa, eyes closed.

Wright replied, "She has so many regrets, in such a short time, I can only try to show her things she's never seen before."

"Magic healing doesn't work, then take her to the magic school, I'll prepare a potion for her," Tyene said, her head tilted as she studied Daenerys's pale neck.

Thwack! "Ah, ow!"

Wright slapped Tyene's little leg, making her draw it back. "I know what you're trying to do. Vampires are a taboo."

"Come on, just try it," Tyene grinned, slipping her leg into Wright's tunic, teasing him.

"That pirate, I heard he was about to be sent to you. Before the guards could catch him, he threw himself against the wall and died!" The army had expanded their patrols over the last six months, and Wright found it hard to part with a few prisoners.

"Come on, just try it," Tyene teased, her leg now sliding up.

"Alright, alright, I'll approve one more bandit for your experiment. But no more thinking about Daenerys. After all, your experiments always end with missing limbs. I promised Daenerys I'd leave her whole," Wright said, pinching Tyene's foot that had slipped under his clothes.

Upon hearing Wright's agreement, Tyene pushed herself up, standing on the sofa, and walked over to embrace Wright tightly. "A vampire! I'll first make a hole in his neck, insert a steel tube, record the amount of blood needed, then cut off small pieces of flesh every day to observe the body's changes. Next—"

Tyene began to speak rapidly about the experiment she had prepared. Wright, seeing her serious demeanor, didn't interrupt and started helping her analyze the possibilities, perhaps figuring out a way to reverse the vampire curse back into humanity.

The prisoners kept in the castle had long been under Nymeria and Tyene's authority to handle. Tyene insisted that Wright be involved because she wanted his help in conducting the research together.

---

Daenerys's body was growing weaker and weaker. In the past few days, Wright and the others had accompanied her all around Tyrosh.

The midday sun was so intense it made the skin burn. In the Stepstones, it was the time for a midday break, and the streets were almost deserted.

On top of the castle's lighthouse, Daenerys sat on the low wall, looking down at Tyrosh. Wright stood by her side, keeping watch to prevent her from falling. Neither of them seemed bothered by the sun.

"The white buildings, green trees, clean streets, and the laughter of the people... this is the place I've always dreamed of," Wright said, dragging out a little notebook. Daenerys slowly wrote down the words with a pen.

Wright nodded. She had written this several times before. "Don't you care about your child?"

"He's no longer human. Help me kill him," Daenerys wrote, her words cold and detached. Wright squatted next to her, noticing the tears that covered her face.

"I will," Wright said, raising his arm to gently wipe the tears from her face.

"The music box," Daenerys wrote, her writing becoming slower and slower.

"Here," Wright said, pulling out the music box he had given her long ago. He wound it up and placed it on the wall. Soon, the soft melody filled the air.

"I never asked... What's the song?" Daenerys wrote.

Wright smiled softly. "It's the one I wrote before—the Dragonborn's Song."

As the music played, Daenerys leaned her head against the wall. She turned and stared at Wright for a long while before finishing what she was writing. She then placed the notebook in front of him.

"If, if it were you who had married me," she had written. Wright read the words aloud and thought for a moment before responding. "That might not have been possible. Those who won the war would oppose it, and those who lost would oppose it as well."

Daenerys lowered her head with a melancholy expression, struggling to lift her hand and pull Wright's hand to her abdomen.

"What do you want me to do?" Wright asked.

Daenerys pointed to the buttons on her waist. Wright unbuttoned two of them, and Daenerys grabbed his arm, guiding his hand under her dress.

She still had a vertical scar just below her navel, the one Wright had left deliberately with the Bloodskal Blade when he pierced her stomach. Wright's hand happened to land on the scar.

"Rub it. Dragonborn's Song," Daenerys wrote again.

Wright adjusted to a more comfortable position, then gently held her in his arms, rubbing the scar on her abdomen as he began to sing.

Our hero, our hero,

Claims a warrior's heart.

I tell you, I tell you,

The Dragonborn is.

As Wright's voice filled the air, Daenerys snuggled closer into his arms. The scorching sunlight on their bodies felt warm, and she comfortably closed her eyes.

Hearing the song, Nymeria, Tyene, and Kana arrived at the tower. Seeing Wright in this state, they silently stood to the side, not saying a word.

Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin,

Naal ok zin los vahriin.

By the time the first round of the song was over, Daenerys's breath gradually weakened in Wright's arms, until it stopped entirely. Her heart ceased to beat, and her face was soaked in tears.

Wright gently lifted Daenerys's lifeless body, slowly walking toward the stairs.

Nymeria, seeing the small notebook that had fallen on the ground—filled with the words Daenerys had written over the past few days—wiped away her own tears. She walked over to Wright, placed the notebook into his pocket, and said softly, "Keep it in the cabinet. These words are part of her too."