3 Unfinished Business

Year 845

Ehrmich District

The high pitched screech is what pulls him to consciousness, a screech that he has only heard once in both lifetimes when he watched Daenerys Targaryen's dragons as mere hatchlings on the television screen. Opening his eyes, the first thing he notices is the baby dragon, about the size of a cat, curled on his stomach and screeching up into the air.

"Truly the multiverse must have some sense of humor to play such a jape." he says to none in particular as he takes in the form of his crimson dragon, a form that looks suspiciously like what Caraxes would look like as a hatchling.

Slowly sitting up, Aemon carefully lifts the baby dragon from his stomach. Startled, the dragon turns his long neck towards him. Muscles taut and fangs bared, the dragon clumsily stands on his hind legs and opens his wings as wide as he can before screeching up at Aemon.

Looking into the dragon's eyes, Aemon reaches out to their immature bond and sends him feelings of calmness, affection, and acceptance. Agitated by this unforeseen development, the hatchling rears back from Aemon and clumsily falls on his forelegs with a high pitched screech.

Carefully looking at Aemon, the hatchling slowly and carefully crawls his way up Aemon's left arm before stopping on his shoulder and letting out a questioning screech.

With a smile on face, Aemon reaches out and scratches the hatchling under the jaw. "Looking like that, I guess there's no point debating it. You shall be Caraxes." he says as Caraxes lets out a pleased hum.

With the naming of Caraxes, something seems to slot into place and the bond between them becomes as clear as day, yet still relatively weak compared to his bond with Ghost and Huginn, his raven. And like a puzzle that was unknowingly missing a piece, Aemon suddenly feels whole. Through their bond, Aemon can feel Caraxes' excitement, yet also a burning aggressiveness lying beneath the surface, just waiting for something or someone to provoke it.

With his inspection of his hatching finished, Aemon turns his observation to himself in the hopes of finding out what taking the pill has changed about him while Caraxes curls in on himself to nap.

According to the pill's description, it will turn him into the pinnacle of his bloodline without changing him into something different than a human. However, the definition of human is quite a vague thing, and depending on where being human could mean completely different things.

Taking the world in which LoTR takes place in as an example, being human simply means that they age and die when their time comes, and are susceptible to illness and disease. However, humans from Middle Earth can comfortably age into 100 namedays old with the Númenóreans aging up to 500 namedays. They are also stronger, faster, and more durable than most types of humans.

The first change he notices, outside of all the sweat, grim, and filth covering his body, is the swell of power just below his skin. Previously his magic had been something that he had required a second or two to reach from within, now he can feel it filling his entire being to the brim, laying dormant until called upon, like a coiled snake just waiting to strike.

The thought of his magic jumping to his aid at a simple command makes the hair on his neck stand on end while a smile grows on his face.

With newfound vigor, Aemon swiftly stands from his bed and makes his way to the washroom, a small room adjacent to his, and turns on the shower on its hottest setting before entering.

Startled awake, Caraxes jumps from Aemon's shoulder with a screech while baring his teeth at Aemon. Before he can fall into the tub, Aemon catches the hatchling despite his continuous efforts to bite his hand.

"Calm Caraxes. Calm." commands Aemon in High Valyrian as he sends feelings of calmness and peace through their bond.

Caraxes, incensed by having his nap interrupted snarls at Aemon.

"Calm, my friend." repeats Aemon as he caresses the hatchling under his chin, causing his snarls to turn into hums of approval. "There my friend, it was simply water." he says as Caraxes jumps from his hands to the washroom floor before shaking the water from his scales, and with one last snarl towards Aemon, makes his way to the bedroom.

With an amused smile on his face, Aemon proceeds to wash the sweat, grime, and other residue from his skin.

When he is finished Aemon makes his way to his room. As he takes his towel to dry himself however, a thought comes to his mind, bringing him to a stop.

Throwing his towel back to the chair, Aemon reaches internally and thinks of fire. As soon as he thinks of commanding his magic, its power fills him. A roaring firestorm to turn him to ashes, a cataclysmic blizzard with wintry winds and cutting snow buffeting him, while a piercing cold tries to freeze him, all these sensations hit him simultaneously and before he can even grab the power by the scruff of its neck like the wild beast it is, Aemon's entire body alights with flames so hot that the towel laying on chair a few feet away from him is also set aflame.

"Shit." mutters Aemon as he wrestles the power back down until the flames are extinguished.

With a shuddering breath, Aemon looks around the room to make sure that nothing else was burned.

Assured that everything else remains unburned, Aemon quickly puts on the uniform of the Scout Regiment provided for him, sans the light brown jacket and the green cloak, leaving him in a long sleeve white button down shirt, a dark brown sash around the waist covering the hips, white pants, and dark brown knee-high leather boots.

Now dressed, Aemon sits down on his bed and summons his Gacha rewards from his inventory. Rather than receiving the actual rewards, Aemon finds himself holding cards that act as redeeming tickets. All he needs to do is tear them and their functions will be activated.

After reading through all of their functions, the first one Aemon tears is [Trait: Indomitable Will]. As the card disappears into golden motes of light, Aemon does not feel disappointed when he feels nothing. Things such as indomitable will are not noticeable unless in specific situations.

The second card that he tears is [Skill: Riding(Fate) A+], and like [Trait: Indomitable Will], he feels no changes to himself. Not surprising considering that in Fate the skill is a subconscious one that does not come into effect unless the user is on/in a vehicle or animal.

The third card is [Ability: Conqueror's Haki], and as soon as the card disappears into golden lights Aemon can immediately sense the change within him as the knowledge and instinct of how to use the basics of Conqueror's Haki envelops his mind.

Unlike his magic which acts like a wild beast that he must tightly control lest he be consumed by it, his Haki is simply an extension of his will.

The fourth card that Aemon takes is [Character Template: Black Knight (Dane Whitman)], and looking at causes him to sneer. While he does not particularly hate the Black Knight, a part of him, perhaps the part of Jon Snow that had to fight to quickly increase his skills to survive, or the normal human part of him that has always wanted the opportunity that the Black Knight received when he took up his uncle's mantle, cannot help but look down on him. Dane Whitman is a walking waste of potential. Between his intellect, potential with magic, and skills as a knight, he should have at least been amongst the higher ranked heroes of Earth.

Biting down his distaste, Aemon rips the card in two, and as the pieces disintegrate into golden motes of light he feels something settle into the back of his mind. Something is slowly disintegrating before merging with him at a rate that will take many moons.

With five cards used, only five more remain.

Taking the [Character Summon: Servant Assassin - Hassan of the Hundred Faces], Aemon wastes no time tearing it in two.

When the card disappears this time, Aemon feels a sharp sting as a set of command seals appear on his left forearm and a cloaked figure in a skull mask materializes in front of him, kneeling.

"I ask of you, are you my master?" asks the assassin, their voice ambiguous, coming off as neither male or female.

"I am, but you may refer to me as Lord Commander." answers Aemon, his eyes twinkling at the thought of this specific assassin's skills and noble phantasm.

"As you wish, Lord Commander." replies the assassin.

"Tell me assassin, what knowledge did you attain during your summoning?" asks Aemon.

"Only the basics, and the lack of a Holy Grail." they answer.

"Does that not upset you, the lack of a Grail to grant your wish?" he asks.

"This one has no wish to ask of the Grail." they reply.

The twinkling in Aemon's eyes quickly dies as he hears their answer. Frowning, Aemon leans in and takes a closer look at the assassin. The original Hassan of the Hundred Faces, summoned by Kirei Kotomine, wished to have a perfect and unified personality.

"Do you not wish to have a perfect and unified personality?" asks Aemon with a frown.

Looking up at Aemon for the first time, assassin tilts its head questioningly.

"Perhaps once upon a time. Now I have to accept that this flaw of mine is what makes me unique. For while I am no one, I am also all my personalities. They are me and I am them." they respond.

"I see." says Aemon with a smile. "I thank you for your service in advance. You are dismissed for now."

With a nod, Hassan's figure fades away into their spirit form, unable to be seen or sensed by anyone yet a prickling in the back of Aemon's head lets him know that they are still there.

With that done, Aemon looks into his inventory to see which cards remain.

Before he can choose one however, a new prompt appears before him.

{New Prerequisite Mission Issued: Unfinished Business

Mission Description: As a failed Prince That Was Promised, you were unable to save your world and those you love from the Others. While this may seem like a non-issue now, the psychological trauma of such a failure will make itself known to you at the worst possible time. Deal with it before it becomes a problem.

Mission Directive: Save a version of your world from the Others.

Success Requirements:

The Others must either be destroyed or repelled back to the Land of Always Winter

Ensure the success and prosperity of the alternate selves of your loved ones

Failure Requirements:

Death

Death of all you love

Rewards:

The Chat officially opens

1x [Base Ticket]

[Permanent World Travel Gate: Planetos]

Countdown to Mission Start: 2:58:45}

As Aemon reads the new mission issued by the system flashes of a recent yet distant life flashes before his eyes and a cold simmering rage builds within him.

The Other said something in a language that Aemon did not know; his voice was like the cracking of ice on a winter lake, the words were mocking, yet something within Aemon's blood sung with familiarity. Like a young boy who left home too young only to return much later and hear the tongue of his home spoken to him for the first time in decades and had forgotten it, Aemon feels as if he knows this tongue. And yet, it cannot be for other than the Old Tongue and High Valyrian, he speaks no other language.

The cold gods. The ones in the night. The white shadows. They came with the snow storm, and the cold and with no other warning. Their movements silent yet elegant, their figures hidden by their delicate, reflective, camouflaging armor that shifts in color with every step.

He didn't know how long the battle had been going on, but the Other before him was faster, stronger, and far more skilled than any human he had ever faced, whether in the gladiatorial pits or during the many battles he had faced in his short five and twenty namedays. His one opening had been wasted when Longclaw glanced off a piece of reflective armor that was not there moments before his strike.

"Lord Commander." a far off voice calls to him.

His thrust to its throat is deflected.

"Lord Commander." the voice calls again, this time more urgent than before

He quickly recovers with a slight dodge and a parry that turns into riposte.

"Lord Commander." the voice returns, as his riposte once again glances off its armor and somewhere else Tormund cries out in anguish as he falls and somewhere else a hatchling screeches in rage.

"Lord Commander." it calls out again.

"Lord Commander." the voice calls again and again, each time more urgent than the last as the Other takes the opportunity to cut off his swordhand while kicking him to the ground.

Looking up at its starry blue eyes, Aemon snarls in defiance as it brings its icy sword down upon him.

Before it can end his life, Aemon is tugged back and…

"Lord Commander!" Hassan exclaims as they hurriedly pull Aemon from his bed.

"Hassan…" calls Aemon through ragged and freezing breaths as he falls to his knees.

"Yes, my Lord." replies the assassin as they return to spirit form.

"It seems that I already owe you my life." says Aemon as he turns and looks back at his bed, frozen with a pillar of ice.

While the bed is the only thing frozen in the room, everything else is covered in layers of frost and ice, including Caraxes who angrily screeches out pillars of fire in an attempt to warm him.

Taking a calming breath, Aemon reaches to the roaring firestorm within him. Before the beast can escape his grasp this time, Aemon grasps it by the neck and wrings it under his control.

As per his command, flames erupt from his hands and quickly evaporates the frost with its searing heat while the ice covering the bed remains firmly in place.

With the room mostly in order, Aemon sends out feelings of calmness and safety through his bonds with Caraxes, Huginn, and Ghost before the latter two begin to panic.

"Come Caraxes." calls out Aemon as he ties his sword belt to his waist and sheathes Longclaw within. "We have enemies to fell, castles to burn down, and bastards to remind why you don't fuck with the Starks." he says as he lets his bloodlust bleed through his familiar bonds.

Feeling his companion's bloodlust, Caraxes lets out a screech as he jumps onto his shoulder, and somewhere in the distance a raven lets out a caw, while the wolf that had been prowling in the woods makes his way back to the castle, his excitement for the coming hunt causing it to bare its teeth in a silent snarl.