CHAPTER 151

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CHAPTER 151

290 AC

POV MC

As I immersed myself in the mending of wounded soldiers through healing rituals, I later returned to the throne room, a sensation tugging at my senses that urged me to explore further. The chamber contained a modest assemblage, predominantly guards, as Lord Balon had been confined to his solar in the Sea Tower. Scanning the room, my gaze locked onto the throne itself.

An unsettling chill began to creep over me, growing in intensity as I approached the throne, which exuded an uncanny aura. A bead of cold sweat traversed my spine as my fingers neared the ebony, oil-like surface of the seat. Despite the temptation to touch it, an internal voice cautioned me otherwise, an inexplicable dread coiling within. A moment away from contact, I abruptly recoiled, as if compelled by an instinctual force.

I grappled with comprehending the enigmatic nature of the throne. It was glaringly apparent that this was no ordinary stone structure. My very essence cautioned against touching it, sensing the disruption it wielded upon the natural energy around it. Analyzing it physically, however, proved a daunting task; its sheer presence thwarted my attempts. The sensation of being ill-prepared and inadequately strong enveloped me, akin to my intuition regarding the fire realm membrane. Just as that would have incinerated me, this throne seemed to beckon an intensity I was unready to confront.

...

Within the confines of a strategy room, the king and other lords engaged in a discourse concerning the fate of the Iron Islands and Balon. Standing guard outside were Meryn Trant and Preston Greenfield, who eventually granted me entry after a brief pause. Assisted by Nin's abilities, I was already privy to the ongoing conversation. Their decision had been to allocate the spoils of war: half of the gold was destined for the king, amounting to 2 million gold dragons. The remainder would be shared among the other lords.

As the discussion unfolded, Lord Stark made a request for all the thralls residing on the islands, totaling around five hundred thousand people, as I counseled. Acknowledging the North's substantial contribution to the war, the second-largest share was granted to Lord Stark. In addition to the thralls, he received eight hundred thousand gold dragons. Lord Tywin, while displeased at being surpassed by others, was impotent to alter the arrangement.

Most lords exhibited a greater interest in the gold than in the thralls. While the concept of free labor held appeal, their more populous lands diminished the significance of such offerings. Entering the damp and dimly lit room, I observed the assembly gathered around a sprawling table adorned with a map of the Iron Islands. Maesters present were laden with papers, their expressions studious and concentrated.

Aside from the central table, the room's ambiance was muted, save for the presence of cup bearers tending to the king's hydration needs. Upon spotting me, the king raised his cup with a hint of mockery, jesting, "Here arrives the Priest of The Old Gods."

"Your Grace."

"What is it that you seek, Druid?"

"I desire to learn of your intentions concerning Balon's punishment."

At that juncture, Lord Royce interjected with a stern tone,

"Since you shroud your true identity, I cannot ascertain with certainty. Yet, your actions indicate a lack of noble upbringing, necessitating refraining from addressing a Lord by their given name. Even in captivity, Lord Balon remains a noble."

"In the eyes of the Old Gods, I stand as a more honorable and noble figure than traitorous turncoats like the Royces. How far the once-mighty Bronze Kings have fallen, reduced to the pawns of The Seven. That ancient bronze armor, blessed by the old gods, is not a vestment you merit."

A faint hand twitch toward a sword's hilt emanated from Lord Royce, prompting the Kingsguards' vigilance over Robert's safety.

"Lord Royce," I cautioned, "let's not mar the king's mood with your guts on the floor. Please, keep your blade sheathed. While I would be honored to paint the ground with the bloodline of your turncoat heritage, let's refrain from such folly."

Dispensing a surge of mana that induced nausea among the assembled lords, I continued, "Let's be unequivocal about who I am. I am not a noble, yet neither am I a subject of your lords. Courtesy begets courtesy, and I shall mirror the respect I am shown. However, I will not tolerate insolence, such as that exhibited by Lord Royce. I seek neither enmity nor subservience; I stand not as a craven to be trifled with."

My attention turned to Lord Royce, questioning,

"Shall we engage in a fight, or might we focus on more pressing matters? If you want, I won't even use my magic. You are not even worthy of it."

Robert observed silently, allowing Lord Royce's actions to dictate his next move. Likely, he cared little if conflict ensued, even potentially favoring it. Lord Royce glanced at the king, discerning Robert's inclination to remain neutral. Consequently, he withdrew his hand from his weapon, reseating himself. Placing his emptied cup on the table, Robert remarked,

"Your presence certainly enlivens proceedings, Druid. We've resolved to take his sole surviving son into Lord Stark's custody, and we've emptied his treasury of valuables."

"My king, such measures would not suffice to deter him or eliminate the Ironborn menace plaguing the North."

Holster Tully interjected,

"Are you implying he would jeopardize his son's life? With his son under Lord Stark's guardianship, any rebellion would cost the son his life—a kinslaying of Balon's own making."

Kinslaying was deeply taboo in Westeros, leading to the ostracism of those who committed it.

"Would a man of Balon's ilk truly anguish over his son's fate? He has already forsaken oaths; do you truly expect him to honor them? A genuine peace cannot be achieved so long as archaic traditions endure. I comprehend your reservations, Your Grace. You fear the consequences of Balon's execution, yet granting him clemency as a breaker of oaths and rebel would gravely imperil your legacy."

Robert's interest was piqued, and he questioned,

"Do you possess an alternative solution, or is this merely empty rhetoric?"