Chapter 19

Under the cover of night, when most troubles had been quelled by the realm of Morpheus, I was able to infiltrate the underground levels of Dreadfort unimpeded. As I approached the entrance, activating my magical perception had become a routine affair for me; the screams and moans were audible as usual. Spotting Edric, I walked towards him, ignoring the pleas of other ghosts. Since most of these spirits could not ignore their pain and succumbed to despair, not all had the capacity to endure this pain and engage in somewhat meaningful dialogue.

Mostly, these dialogues consisted merely of pleas and requests to destroy the Boltons. Today, I expected to hear similar speeches from a newly appeared female ghost.

As I navigated the last barrier, a scene unfolded before me to which I had only become accustomed thanks to human adaptability. As expected, there was a girl who was in denial—after all, acknowledging and accepting one's death is exceedingly difficult. She did not even respond to the pain that a ghost experiences; according to Edric, the pain felt before death intensifies manyfold after death. Not all are strong enough to endure such pain. The book also enlightened me on how this works. The ritual's aftermath left a mark on the soul of the deceased that trapped them in the locale and also inflicted damage. The initial purpose of this ritual was to create a sort of source of magical energy fueled by pain and other negative emotions.

The usual cries of agony became mere background noise over time, becoming easier and easier to ignore with each visit. With a familiar pace, I approached my distant ancestor, who was deep in thought at that moment. Beside him stood another ghost named Uldric, who, compared to others, possessed a remarkably strong will.

Uldric had been a blacksmith in his time and had somehow displeased a Bolton of his era. That Bolton had tortured him to death. According to Uldric, his tolerance for pain had developed over the years, as the sensation of pain either dulled or he simply grew accustomed to it. In any case, he and Edric were among the few spirits who could still endure these torments and engage in calm conversation. There were also a few other silent, sane spirits, primarily women, who refused to converse at all.

"Uldric, Edric, I've found something very valuable..." I began to explain to the two about the book and what needed to be done to free the spirits.

"So we need to destroy the Boltons?" Edric Stark asked after I had finished my explanation.

"Yes, I found no other way. What's so surprising about that?" I asked, puzzled.

"Have you ever thought about why we didn't exterminate the Boltons? We had so many chances to wipe them out completely."

Indeed, why not? It was clear to everyone that the Boltons could not remain vassals to the Starks forever, and wouldn't it have been more rational to eliminate such adversaries?

"Why?" I asked Edric.

"For one simple reason. The Starks need the Boltons so that each new King in the North doesn't become complacent, as there's always the threat of a Bolton uprising, ensuring the King remains vigilant. They existed as a reason for each King in the North to refine their royal qualities," Edric concluded.

"But what if a ruler of the North arises who cannot cope with his duties because of the Boltons?"

"That's always been a question of hope, but at least we saw an illusion of control over the situation," Edric said with a melancholic tone, clearly thinking about his own situation and the Starks who had died at the hands of the Boltons.

A grim situation, indeed, but it seems I have little choice.

"Well, at least I learned something new, now I need to think about my next steps. Any advice?" I asked Edric, knowing another perspective could be helpful and also wanting to make him feel that his help was valued. I had noticed his often-bruised pride, as having such immense power in life and losing any ability to act was dreadful.

Edric, surprised by my proposal but understanding my motives, smiled and said, "Well then, I'll be glad to help you."

Afterwards, we discussed the situation from various angles nearly until dawn. That's how I spent my five months...

Five months later

During this time, I thoroughly observed all of Roose's actions—where he went, how he walked, and when he moved. Unfortunately, I also witnessed many of his atrocities, as I could not yet intervene.

After five months, I felt generally prepared for almost any action on Roose's part, as all this time spent observing had not been in vain. All his teachings, his thoughts on many matters, and his attitudes toward various things were revealed in his lessons. Thanks to Empathy, I could understand his true feelings about what he said. Overall, my initial impression of this monster proved true. Roose is a model of coldness and sadism mixed with huge ambitions. His death would not cause me anything but relief, knowing I would make the world slightly better.

But before the actions that were to take place in a month, I needed to resolve a concern that had long troubled me.

However, preparing for this conversation was extremely difficult; how do you tell a friend that you plan to kill his father? Indeed, I planned to tell all this to Domeric, simply because if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself later.

Finding Domeric and Robb at the training ground and after a few practice fights with them, I said to Domeric:

"Domeric, I'd like to discuss a certain situation with you in private, could you spare some time for this?"

Domeric initially looked surprised, but after composing himself and smiling, he replied:

"Yes, of course, let's discuss it now."

We walked to a secluded grove in Dreadfort, where we were alone at the moment, and I didn't know where to begin. Even articulating it was difficult, and actually saying what needed to be said was terrifying.

"I think I should start by saying..." Finding a starting point, I told him about my magical abilities and my mission. He was amazed by all of it, but he didn't doubt my words.

So, the words had to be backed up with a demonstration, and I decided to show him my warg abilities. When Domeric saw dozens of crows cawing my words, all doubts vanished, and his look was filled with reverence. After all, it's not every day you see such things. Then questions about where I got such powers followed, which I shrugged off again by attributing everything to the gods.

The hardest part remained, telling Domeric about the current situation...

"You see, Domeric... the gods require me to fulfill a task related to your house. I need to destroy the Boltons..."

"What did you say?" Domeric spoke after a few moments of processing what I had told him.

"For the sake of world peace and to fulfill a task given by the Ancient Gods, I need to kill your father..." After such words, chaos erupted in Domeric's emotions. It was understandable, considering Roose was his father, no matter the circumstances.

"In a month, I plan to put my plan into action," I added.

Without waiting for his response, I left Domeric alone with his thoughts. I had told him because I needed to; if Domeric chose to inform his father... well, I would understand.

Now, all that was left was to wait for the impending events. The gears were already in motion, and I needed to revisit and improve my skills in the meantime.

--Status--

Name: Daeron Targaryen

Level 3

Strength: 45

Agility: 55

Endurance: 40

Magic: 135

HP: 10

Talents: Arsenal, Blood of the Winter Kings, Blood of the Dragon Lords, Blessing of War, Ice Mind, Greenseer, Empathy.

Quests: 2

As expected, agility still had the edge over strength, but I hoped to balance these attributes in the future. My magical abilities had improved only slightly until I read the magical book. After reading that book, my magical powers surged forward, and having read the entire book several times, I can confidently say that it was not written by a human. The strangest part was that no one else could understand the book; at least, those with insufficient magic couldn't comprehend what was written.

Most likely, the book also imparted knowledge of the language in which it was written, as I didn't even notice I was reading in a different language the first time. It wasn't similar to Valyrian or Andal, nor did it resemble the runes of the First Men. Visually, it most closely resembled a mix of Chinese and Arabic.

But what this language is called and who on earth can use it remained unknown to me. After searching the Dreadfort's library for any similar inscriptions and finding nothing, I assumed the answers might lie in Essos or at the Citadel where the maesters are trained. Having found no answers, I stopped searching and spent my free time simulating scenarios with Roose.

"Heh... Looks like I just have to trust my luck."

Three weeks later

Over these three weeks, several important events occurred, all somewhat anticipated. Most notably, Roose found out about my ability to inhabit the skins of animals and about my goal. However, he didn't reveal anything to anyone, instead choosing to prepare better. His preparations meant he now only ventured outside with at least 15 armed men, and he had begun killing all the ravens that lingered near him for long, as in explaining my abilities to Domeric, I had only mentioned my ability to inhabit ravens connected to me. I had not fully disclosed this information to Domeric because the possibility that he might betray me was quite high.

Fortunately, other animals that lingered around the castle helped to keep an eye on Domeric's conversations with his father. I harbored no resentment towards Domeric, as I could truly understand his choice.

"Yet still..."

Two weeks ago

POV Domeric

When my two close friends arrived at our castle, I thought it would be one of the best years of my life. For a time, it seemed so; we spent our days joyously together, training and learning, growing in various ways.

I shared my adventures in the South, and they shared what they had experienced at the Mormonts, the Ambers, and the Manderlys. I also taught them to play the harp, which they initially laughed at but eventually took seriously. I wasn't a genius at it, but I had some skills.

However, this idyll couldn't last forever, and it ended when Daeron revealed his magical powers. At first, I was amazed, thinking magic was returning to our world and that I might participate in the legendary tales from myths.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans—Daeron needed to kill my father... The man who fathered me. Could I bear the burden of being a patricide? I pondered this long, well aware of my father's cruelty from his many victims, the skins of people stored in the halls of our castle.

"Ha... It seems the curses those victims cast upon our house have finally caught up to us..."

Despite all his cruelty, I couldn't betray my father. I remembered times when he had shown kindness to me and to my mother... I simply couldn't allow his murder, even if it meant the gods would curse me for my decision.

Leaving my quarters, despite the late hour, I went to my father, who was reviewing papers received from my aunt. As I entered, his cold, indifferent gaze turned to me, asking silently, "What's wrong?"

I began to tell him everything I had learned about Daeron, about the gods wanting our demise, and that Daeron planned to act soon.

"Are you mocking me?" my father asked after I finished.