Westeros, Kingdom of Mountain and Vale
The Eyrie
King Mathos III Arryn
Looking at the gathered in the Eyrie lords of his kingdom, their faces marked with worry and fear, but he could also see anger here and there. The news they had received over the past moons had not only not been encouraging but had oscillated between disturbing, improbable, and very unfavourable for them. This new sorcerer who had appeared in Dorne was undoubtedly a threat to his kingdom, standing on the foundations of strong Andal traditions and the faith of the Seven. Someone calling himself a god, or worse, someone people were starting to call a god, was a threat to everything his ancestors had built.
But it was this last news that stirred real fear among the lords under him and joy among the few who sought to exploit the eventual downfall of his house to build their own agenda.
It was called the greatest of the wonders of the world. The giant tree, reaching with its icy branches to the very sky, and the stony, sun-swept Stepstones transformed into an icy plateau.
Then there were those masked priests, proclaiming that this Dovahkiin, the Lightbringer, was a new god. A god who lived and walked among men and, what's more, who helped those who asked him. A protector, a healer. And what was worse, these priests, or maybe there was only one, performed magic, presenting it as miracles performed by the power of their god.
They healed broken limbs and cured diseases of the body and spirit. And people began to believe these charlatans, and despite many attempts by local lords, they failed to catch them or limit their actions in any way.
"Rodmar, what is the situation on the Narrow Sea?" he asked the broad-shouldered lord of Gulltown, who was one of his greatest supporters and ruled the largest city and main port in the Vale of Arryn.
"Things are not looking good, my king. Everything north of the Stepstones is cut off from any sea lanes to either Essos or Westeros. Bravoos and Myr have been hit hardest by this blockade, though I have heard from some traders that there are talks to be had about the terms under which trade may continue, as the only passage is just off the coast of Dorne."
"This spells disaster for us!" Qyle Corbray shouted angrily, rising from his seat. "We all know what that means. Higher tariffs, poverty, famine, peasant revolts. And in the end, this false god will come as a saviour, bringing help and food, and we will end up as scapegoats."
Even though Mathos didn't like the arrogant and self-righteous lord, he had to admit he was right in this case.
Young lord Gawain Royce apparently thought the same, and in response to Corbray's words, said, "My fellow lords, if nothing is done, our enemy will not have to lift a finger, and we will destroy ourselves. Trade with Bravoos or Pentos is vital to us, but by becoming our only trading partner, they will gain too much power over us. Inflated prices will ruin our coffers, especially since they themselves will want to recoup what they lose in exchange for the ability to sail through the Stepstones."
"Whether we like it or not, my king, we must join the talks between the free cities and Dorne and its divine protector." Jasper Redfort interjected, drawing the attention of all those present. "We cannot afford to be excluded from this arrangement and openly oppose a being capable of covering the Vale in eternal ice."
After these words the lords began to shout at each other and argue about what decision to make. The truth was, however, that it was he, as the King of Mountain and Vale, who had the final decision.
"If there are official talks, I will attend them personally," he said after a moment, but most of the lords seemed not to have even heard him, busy shouting over each other.
"SILENCE!" His cry echoed throughout the throne room as the lords looked at him in surprise.
"I said I would go to potential talks if they came to that." He continued in a calm but firm tone.
"This is my final decision. Now let's talk about what forces we can muster if the worst happens."
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Essos, Braavos
House of Black and White
Ferrego Elaryo
The building he was in front of was one of the most recognisable in Valyria's youngest daughter. It stood on a rocky mound of dark grey stone, and its most distinctive feature was a twelve-foot black and white door. One side was made of a weirwood tree, while the other was made of ebony.
He nervously approached the door and reached out to knock, but before he could open it, it swung open from the inside, revealing a dark corridor leading deeper inside. There was no one behind the door, which only emphasised the atmosphere of mystery.
As he stepped over the threshold, a chill ran down his spine, and the faint scent of damp earth filled the air. Shadows danced along the walls, hinting at secrets long buried, and he felt an inexplicable pull to venture further into the unknown.
Corridor lit up with the pale light of torches. He didn't have to wait long before he reached a large oval chamber, where a young man with features so common that he would have gotten lost in the city crowd without a problem was waiting for him.
"Hello. I am Fe..."
"Ferrego Elaryo. One of the Braavos warlords. We have been waiting for you." The man interjected, getting ahead of him.
"Ah, yes." He nodded, taken aback.
"We have been waiting for you... Come on," the other said, and without waiting, he headed into one of the opposite corridors. He obediently followed him, not wanting to offend the Faceless Man in any way.
After a minute, maybe two, they reached a chamber slightly smaller than the previous one in silence. Inside there was a semicircular table around which sat 8 figures, hidden under white robes. Their heads were covered with hoods, and their faces were hidden by a mask of darkness.
The figure sitting on the left side addressed him in a low, very hoarse voice that sent shivers down his spine. "Speak. What do you expect from us?"
He licked his lips uncertainly and said, "I have a contract for you for someone who threatens our dear city. He wanted to...
"Fool, do not treat us like others. We know why you are here." Another figure interrupted him, her voice similar, maybe a bit more feminine.
"You want the death of He Whose Voice Shakes the World, Lightbringer... and also the current Sealord Nevros. You wish to take his place."
He wanted to deny it, but something told him that it would be a mistake. They knew his intentions perfectly well, and they didn't tolerate anyone lying to their face.
"Yes, I want them dead," he finally admitted. "This whole self-proclaimed god is a threat to us all, and that idiot Nevros wants to make a deal with him. He'll ruin us all."
"Quite the opposite. His actions are very logical in this situation." Another of the masked figures denied it, which made him terrified of their refusal, or worse, that they would hand him over to the Sealord.
"So you won't take the contract?" He asked nervously, his hands wet with sweat, clenching in a tic.
"We didn't say that," the figure sitting on the right edge replied.
"So how much would it cost?" he asked, hoping that he and his allies would be able to cover the costs.
"There is no amount of gold and jewels in Braavos, Valyria, Yi-ti, or the entire world worthy of such a commission. You are fortunate, however, for our god wishes him dead. What you must do is to provide our members with access to the place where the meeting between this Neferion and the other forces will take place."
He, initially worried at hearing these words, smiled more with each word. When the figure finished speaking, however, he replied with more certainty than he actually felt. "You can count on me. I will take care of this."
But then he asked, "But how many assassins do you plan to send?"
The leaders of the brotherhood, sitting at the table, stared at him in silence for a moment, then replied in a voice that seemed too unnatural to be human, "All of them."
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Dorne, Ghaston Grey
Neferion
He stood in the air, a few hundred feet from a ruined castle on a small island, fifty miles north of the coast of Dorne. For centuries, this place had been a prison and a place where Dorne's worst criminals, those for whom death would be too kind, were exiled. Now, as the wind whipped around him, he could almost hear the echoes of their despair lingering in the stones. He had come here not just to witness the remnants of their suffering but to uncover what's been happening here lately.
At the moment, however, there was no living human being in this place. Both the surface and the depths of the sea were filled with thousands of Deep Ones. When he focused his eyes on what was happening in the sea itself, he could see an underwater city and fortifications stretching from the island into the abyss, built as if from coral.
Did these monsters think that he would simply allow them to nest so close to Dorne? What's more, he would allow them to live in the same world. In the future he saw, there was no place for such beasts. He felt a surge of determination as he considered the implications of their presence. The time had come to eradicate monsters, for he knew that the safety of his future realm depended on eradicating the threat posed by these ancient horrors.
In any case, he now knew what had happened to the Deep Ones who had survived the battle on Grey Gallows. More had to come later. But the question troubled him more. Where had the Storm god disappeared to? He had tried to find him but had failed. He was certain that he had not hidden anywhere near Westeros. The only question was, where had he gone?
Putting these thoughts aside for later, he decided to deal with the problem before him; after all, he was in a bit of a hurry. Not only was he facing the quick liberation of the Riverlands and perhaps even the conquest of another kingdom, but he had met with a large number of important people from all over the world shortly after.
So, taking a deep breath, he shouted.
"VEN GAAR NOS" (Wind, Unleash, Strike)
As soon as the Words of Thu'um resounded with a roar, suddenly the wind, which had been calm until then, began to blow stronger and stronger. At first a gentle breeze, but with every moment it gained speed. In a matter of a dozen or so seconds the swirling air, falling from the sky, merged with the earth, and a powerful cyclone, the likes of which had never been seen here, fell upon the island and the ruins lying on it.
The wind, blowing at great speed, slowly turned the stone into powder, and the torn bodies of the sea abominations flew in all directions. Not only those that were on the surface at the time of the attack, but also those that were not deep enough in the water.
He looked at his work with satisfaction, but the job wasn't done yet. Now he had to attack the main forces of the monsters in the depths. It would also be a good test before the future attack on the underwater palaces of the Drowned God.
If he wanted to kill this bastard, he would need to learn how to fight on his territory, which he knew wouldn't be easy. However, to that end, he was developing several Shouts that would be perfect for this type of fight.
With these thoughts, he looked into the depths once more and with a smile, he fell into the sea.