' The Three Masterpieces '

POV: Author;

Near High Council Hall Andals, High Tower Dungeon, Oldtown.

Four days after a trade agreement was signed and sealed ...

A heavy thunderstorm enhanced by rumbles of thunder and lightning accompanied the hall in the background. Even there, ninety feet below sea level with thick, sturdy layers of thousand-year-old black rock, the whispers of thunder rumbles filtered through.

Proof that not even the most celebrated architectural and arcane arts known to man could completely counteract the indomitable forces of nature.

Lord Leyton prepared to reach the hall. Tradition dictated that he be the first to sit at the Great Table. At his side followed his eldest daughter, Malora Hightower 'The Mad Maid', and his son-in-law, Ser Jon Cupps (married to his second daughter Leyla Hightower), Lord Commander of the Seven Keepers. The sworn swords of the Noble Hightower House, one of the top three armed groups in Oldtown.

Seven warriors for each of the town's power centres: The Seven Keepers, defending Hightower House; the Seven Secrets, the Citadel's elite death squad; and the Seven Paladins, the sworn guardians of the Starry Sept.

Twenty-one of the finest warriors, assassins, and enchanters exist in the hands of the second most powerful organization in the Known World.

Individuals who could match, if not surpass, The Sword of The Morning in combat were equipped with custom armour sets and weapons in pure Valyrian steel.

In anticipation of the extraordinary meeting called by the Great Archmaesters, all council participants were allowed to wear their symbols of power and prestige.

Ser Jon Cupps proudly displayed his beautiful dark Valyrian steel plate armour with his long sword of the same material, Voracity, at his side.

But that equipment, forged from the finest steel known to the best master smiths in the Known World, paled in comparison to his master's artefact.

Lord Leyton Hightower dressed in the enchanted steel armour of ceremonial Valyria that only the Guardian and Protector of the Andalus High Council could wear, 'Keeper of knowledge'. A masterpiece of the lost Valyrian Forgemastering art passed down in his family before the arrival of the Andals in Westeros. A magical artefact that could only be worn at High Council meetings or in times of war.

Black flakes of enchanted steel assembled to provide a supportive exoskeleton that moulded itself to the rightful owner.

Six opaque black gems are engraved with glowing arcane symbols on the shoulder pads, elbow pads, and knee pads.

Each of those individual gems could be exchanged for a kingdom...

Any member of House Hightower who understood the actual value of the Keeper of Knowledge and was forced to choose between the armour or any other possession kept in Oldtown, family members included, would surely choose the former. It was a priceless artefact; not even all the Valyrian steel in Westeros and Essos could have compensated for the loss.

A simple peasant clad in that legendary armour could have prevailed in a fight to the death on an open field against a hundred armoured knights armed to the teeth.

However, only the descendants of House Hightower could activate the valid magical properties of that artefact. It would be a "common" Valyrian steel flake armour for everyone else.

All magics required tribute, and the magics within Keeper of Knowledge were no different. For every hour of attunement with the armour, the owner had to pour a specific amount of their own magical blood. One cup of Very Rare Blood (259.75 ml) per hour. For this reason, not all members of House Hightower were worthy. If the chosen user did not have at least an innate concentration of Pure Blood, they would be drained of their lifeblood in less than a day.

Lord Leyton Hightower was the elite of the last generation, a descendant of Peremore with *Purest Blood, according to genealogical records, the blood with the highest concentration of magic in the previous three centuries. Currently, in addition to holding the official title of Voice of Oldtown, Lord of the Port, Defender of the Citadel, and Beacon of the South, Leyton was recognized by his lesser-known allies and enemies with another title: The Great Wizard, Guardian and Protector of the Andalus High Council.

Rarely did a single successor fill both roles. Instead, generations of puppets, competent only in running a city and keeping a few vassals at bay, openly presented themselves in Westeros with the Title of Lord. Still, the puppet master, the faithful undisputed Lord of Oldtown, acted in the shadows.

Anyone, third cousin or bastard that he was, could attain that position. Only the most deserving and gifted would become the next True Lord Protector of Oldtown and possessor of the treasure of Peremore Hightower, 'Keeper of knowledge'.

Leyton displayed great gifts in learning common subjects and martial arts and a unique flair in the study of magic. Presently, it was the most potent weapon Oldtown possessed. A sixth circle enchanter, the only one who, along with the Keeper of Knowledge, could frontally counter the power of Oldtown's sworn enemy; The King in the Yellow, the Chief Sorcerer and Supreme Lord Carcosa.

That arcane masterpiece was a gift bestowed upon Peremore Hightower 'the Twisted', the one who gathered the most remarkable scholars from around the World and founded the Citadel. An estate created by the second greatest Valyrian Forgemaster ever known in human history; the First Guardian of Love, Valgudryel Targaryen.

Only two other Valgudryel Masterpieces could rise to the heights of Peremore's legacy.

The first masterpiece, created for the current Guardian of Magic and later passed on to his disciple and heir Chai Dug, 'Valunday G'ho Ras', a name derived from the ancient language known in the Yi Ti Empire, but was also commonly referred to as the 'Scepter of the Magic Emperor'. A magical stirrup of immense power that only the most skilled arcanists would be able to wield. The only artefact still in circulation could rival the 'Keeper of knowledge'(The second masterpiece).

For millennia the empire of Yi Ti was at war against the people of Jogos Nhai, a people with peculiar physiological characters that many historians and anthropologists still think descend from the Dothraki.

About three hundred years ago, in a critical moment for the Yi Ti people, when the emperor and his army were surrounded without any way out by thousands of Jogos Nhai Knights. The empire had no means or time to rush to the aid of their ruler and pleaded for help from the confederation of wizards. Carcosa answered the empire's call, but only one Sorcerer showed up on the battlefield. The King in the Yellow...

The Lord of Carcosa willingly chose to join the fight even without his personal escort. He used the occasion to test the power of the new Artifact given to him by his master...

'Valunday G'ho Ras'.

A single individual managed to turn the tide of battle on that day.

And finally, the third and final masterpiece...

An Artifact that would mirror the powers of a Legendary Guardian.

A weapon forged at the time with the fire of the last Wyrm Dragon still alive in Valyria. Chrisoulax, the Golden Dragon whose fire was said to equal the power of the sun...

A piece of magical metal worked in the most dangerous forge in all the empire, the volcano called 'the Heart of Fourteen Flames'...

Valgudryel Targaryen tempered that blade for a hundred days and a hundred nights to match the work of the greatest Forgemaster Hero ever, Azor Ahai.

The Guardian of Love invested every knowledge he possessed, every resource and every spark of magic in his veins to create a sword capable of countering and destroying Peremore's legacy. His second masterpiece that, generations earlier, he had given as a gift to the ancestor of the traitorous dynasty of the Wizarding World.

Such was the anger and such the shame. That tool of his own creation, designed to aid the former Protectors of Knowledge, and later transformed into a means of death, could no longer be passed on to such monsters... Monsters that besmirched the memory of his dearest friend.

At the time, the Guardian of Love had created that armour specifically to help Peremore. A man physically fragile as glass, born with deformities, was bedridden for most of his life but nevertheless was endowed with an incredible intellect and an excellent talent for magic. He had immeasurable love for all knowledge and was the first to bring together sages, teachers, priests, healers and singers, as well as magicians, alchemists and sorcerers from all over the World. The pioneer of the World founded the 'Temple of Knowledge', a place of peace, culture, science and magic.

A place that was to guard and protect the history of the World...

Legend has it that Valgudryel roared with rage, pain, and despair at each blow of the hammer.

The Craftsman worked on an ore rarer and stronger than simple Dragon Iron. He dug out the last remaining stock of a dying star's heart, which had fallen centuries earlier at the mouth of the Torantine River south of Westeros. A mineral he found during one of his past pilgrimages in search of inspiration and new materials.

The stonemason who found the star and sold him the ore, whose son dreamed of becoming a knight, asked for an indestructible sword to give to his heir. One of Valgudryel's first experiments during the dawn of his apprenticeship as a Forgemaster...

He used the most precious magical gem. The rarest treasure was guarded for millennia by the Three-Headed Dragon dynasty. A core of power was even more powerful than the heart of Valunday G'ho Ras.

He tempered the blade with his own tears and with the blood of the rarest creature... but when the time came for the final passage, the father faltered and failed to sacrifice the person he loved most...

His daughter Rheyna.

The Guardian of Love chose to sacrifice himself and pierced his own heart by taking the place of his beloved daughter...

But before doing so, he commanded Rheyna to give the sword to the only man deserving of her love and seal it to his dynasty.

The sword was to go as a gift to the Hero who had just foiled the greatest War the World would ever know.

A Hero who, through his efforts, sacrifices and courage, had saved the people of Valyria from the most significant threat of that Era...

*[Author Note: There are 15 classifications of magical blood known in the world. Divided on Three Rank Hierarchies. In the first rank, the magic concentration in blood grows exponentially by 3,141 (π).

From the second rank, by 3.141 x 3.141 (π)2

From the third rank, by (π)3

{1th rank}:

Low Blood;

Dirty Blood;

Common Blood;

Non-Common Blood;

Rare Blood; (Eddard Stark)

Very Rare Blood;

Semi-Pure Blood;

{2nd rank}:

Pure Blood;

Purest Blood; (Leyton Hightower)

King Blood; (The King in The Yellow)

Legendary Blood;

Blood of the Sons of the Gods; (The Guardian of Beauty)

{3nd rank}:

Semi-Divine Blood;

Divine Blood;

God Blood;

In summary, one drop of "God Blood" is equivalent to approximately 11,283,762 gallons of "Low Blood".]

End POV.

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POV: Malora Hightower 'The Mad Maid'.

Near the Andalus High Council Hall, Hightower Dungeon, Oldtown.

Just before reaching the entrance archway of the hall...

Malora walked silently by her father's side. She was not a very quiet person, not that she took pleasure in addressing other individuals. On the contrary, the Mad Maid liked to talk to herself...

She couldn't even stand her half-brothers or half-sisters, especially Lynesse, Leyton's youngest daughter. Daddy's little flower in the buttonhole, all flowers and song and dance...

Malora would have gladly used the wench in one of her private experiments.

None of them was worthy. They were human-like beings with a walnut for a brain. Only with her father could she interact...

Leyton... for Malora, he was a real man. A man of knowledge, intelligence, strength and power. But those stupid laws, customs and popular beliefs prevented her from lying to the only man who deserved her love.

Malora answered only to him, to her Lord, to her powerful Great Sorcerer.

Though mentally deranged, Mad Main was a true genius. She has a brilliant mind, capable of remembering everything she saw or heard, and very... very creative. A mute scribe, she had the task of collecting and delivering to Leyton, and only him, all written works or drawings of Malora at any time.

Only when the true Overlord of Oldtown had decided his daughter was ready would he instruct her in the arcane art.

Malora carried Legendary Magic Blood in her veins; unbeknownst to the entire council, Lord Leyton's daughter had magical gifting considerably more extraordinary than her father's.

If well educated, she could soon arise a weapon equal to or greater than even the Sorcerer of Carcosa.

Occult blood was generated with his second wife. No one had ever seen or known her mother. Only an unfortunate Septon who claimed to have officially celebrated the wedding just before 'accidentally' dying the next day... That was all Malora could discover in twenty-six years of silences and well-studied lies.

They had finally reached the doors of the hall. Black oak doors are covered in layers of finely crafted steel. The designs and carvings in the doors gave off magic at a mere glance.

"Ser Jon..." called Leyton.

"Yes, my Lord." The Lord Commander of the Seven Keepers replied instantly.

"For now, it will only be my daughter and me who will enter. Warn us when other council members arrive," the Lord Protector ordered.

"As you wish, my lord." Ser Jon Cupps didn't let that be repeated a second time. The knight took two steps back and stood guard at the entrance.

Leyton placed his gloved right hand on a seal, sounds of heavy locks clicked, and the heavily reinforced door opened through a counterweight mechanism.

"Come, my daughter."

"Yes, Father." Malora's heart pounded. Her long, sharp nails wouldn't stop fiddling with her tousled curly hair.

The Mad Maid entered the darkened room first... Torches and black candles lit as if by magic with each new step, accompanying the guest's passage in advance.

The door closed again.

The room was fully lit. A round room at least a hundred feet in radius with dome-shaped ceilings over fifty feet high. Tapestries and paintings depicting numerous landscapes, figures, faces, and creatures unknown to her littered the walls. However, at first, glance, what stood out most to the eye was the table...

A giant half-moon board made entirely of shiny black stone... no... it wasn't stone.

"Dragon glass." Leyton anticipated the doubt in his daughter's mind.

Sixteen thrones were spaced equally on the same side of the first arch. In the centre of it towered a tower-like throne.

"Ehehihi ghuaaàà!!! A throne worthy of a king, Father!" The Mad Maid jumped, squealing with delight, reaching for the chair. She caressed and savoured every channel and shape of the craftsmanship.

"We are not Kings, Malora... We do not care for a commonplace throne. Kings and Queens rise and fall in history, but we will always rise.

Cataclysms, famines, epidemics, droughts, betrayals, wars, foreign invasions... None of these things can bring down our household. Our Tower is older than The Wall itself. Do you know who was the first architect to help our ancestors build the foundation?" asked Leyton as he approached a device on the left side of the throne.

"Brandon the Builder." Malora.

"Correct answer...and now tell me, do you know why I wanted you here today?" Leyton.

"You told me I'd take part in the council... However... I only see seventeen seats here. Yours, the three seats for the Lord Commanders, the seven Grand Archmaesters, and the six-"

"The Six Starry Sept, yes..." Malora turned her head taken aback by those words.

"You mean... Of course, the High Wisdom Warrior and the Lord Commander of the Seven Paladins are the same figure."

"Precisely, your mother holds one of those seats. She has never attended any council meetings, but she is still a full member. What seat do you think she holds?" Leyton.

Malora solved the riddle with a single glance.

"The Astra Wisdom of the Stranger."

"Correct answer... You are here today to take her place. You will represent that task in her stead. You will observe and remain silent throughout the meeting, and afterwards, we will rehash together every word spoken in this room." Said Leyton shocking the maiden for the second time.

Malora frantically scratched her hair, looking at the void with wide eyes. A gesture that did not disturb her father. Leyton knew that behaviour was Malora's usual way of processing thoughts to the best of her ability.

"But... b-but that means... It can only mean three things!" Shrieked the woman in a state of euphoria.

"Light the Way, then." Leyton.

"First... that I shall shortly meet my mother in person!" Leyton seemed neither to deny nor confirm the first theory.

"Second... You want me to be the heir! Not Baelor, Garth, Gunther, or Humfrey...but for me...a woman! Father, there has never been a woman at the head of the Council or am I mistaken?" the daughter asked without hesitation.

'It also means that my mother is not a mere hen broodmare clucking around you... No! She has power! A power that can silence all the squeaks of those filthy rats! Power and influence that even you fear, Father! Hehehhihihi! But this... Yes, it is undoubtedly wiser to keep it to myself. Hihihihehe!!!' Malora made a noticeable effort to maintain control of her emotions.

"No... actually, there never was. And yes, you may be the most suitable candidate for the position, 'IF' you prove yourself worthy." Admonished Leyton, granting a small smile of approval.

"I will! I will be worthy! I won't let you down, father, I swear! I swear it! I swear it! I will put my whole self into it, learn, process and plan everything! Everything that is needed and beyond. I will carry out the will of Peremore! I, Malora Sybilla Hightower, swear this to you, my Lord!" the woman bowed at the feet of her beloved master, conveying all the conviction she could express with her gaze beyond mere words.

"And the third?" asked the father curiously.

"Third is that you will finally accept me as your disciple! I will begin the path of arcane mysteries!!!" Malora seemed to be more enthusiastic about this last one than the others.

Leyton was adamant about studying the Arcane arts.

"In due time, my daughter. But, first, you will meet your mother, and only then can you begin your magical apprenticeship." Leyton.

"Y-yes... Yes, Father." Malora stifled more thoughts and delighted squeals.

"First, history lessons. I'm about to let you in on a secret. A piece of information that 'No One' but you, me, or your mother will ever need to know. I warn you, if I were to disclose even the slightest bit of such knowledge to you now and in the future were to deem you no longer worthy of Peremore's legacy, I would not hesitate an instant in killing you, Malora.

Do you wish me to continue, my daughter?" Leyton asked in a calm and sincere tone.

"Yes. I have no fear of death. More time is wasted on precious moments in a life without purpose or meaning! Knowledge, power and legacy. Nothing else matters!" Malora replied, disregarding even the stated threat of death.

"So be it... Then tell me, my child, do you know who or what is the greatest threat to our legacy?" Leyton slowly moved his hand closer into a concealed crevice of the central throne.

Malora crouched on her knees, scratching her hair with one hand and biting her thumbnail with the other, voiced her thoughts.

"The answer is not Carcosa, too obvious... It can't be The Titan either... that it is... no... the Guardian of Beauty is powerful but would have already moved against us if he really wanted to... The new endowments that have appeared... no, it's not that either, the tone and form of the question implies that it is an enemy that has been present for longer... The new Guardian of Love, by any chance? The one who sees all and nothing can hide from his eyes?" Attempted to answer Malora without expressing certainty in her tone, but she corrected herself before her father delivered a verdict.

"No... The Watcher is an anomalous candle that burns more intensely than the others, an unexpected one, however, soon to be extinguished. A neutral, transient force that simply should not be disturbed. So... excluding the Rhoynar and the First Men... the only plausible answer... The Dragon!!! The Targaryens, Father!!!" Roared Malora with more conviction. That bit of information her father passed on to her and her personal research was enough to conclude.

"Not exact, but in itself not incorrect either..." Leyton replied, activating a magical impulse.

The walls in front of the Protector's Throne opened, and a transparent crystal case rose from the ground. It held a two-handed broadsword.

"I will tell you a story shortly. I will not leave out any details or exaggerate parts... The pure and simple truth.

What you see, Malora, a long time ago, long before the Dragons came to Westeros, was the most dangerous weapon to our heritage..." Leyton approached the shrine at a slow pace.

"I... I know what it is! I've seen it! Nineteenth page of 'Inventories' written by Archmaester Thurgood! Only... t-the colour of the blade should be darker, it wasn't like that in the drawings in the text! Th-that's..." Malora was interrupted.

"Part of an Artifact forged by the same creator of 'Keeper of Knowledge'. The only tool that held power to eradicate Peremore's descendants...

We invested untold resources...

Collaborated with enemies...

Killed Kings...

Erased from history all texts or minds that knew even an essence of its real properties...

Asked evil entities for help...

Annihilated a millenary Empire to stifle its power...

Ousted a Dynasty...

Transgressed Peace Treaties...

That, my daughter, is the most significant spoils of war in our possession, snatched from the hands of our True Sworn Enemy.

That is the Artifact that was once given to the founder of the Lannister Dynasty... Podrick Lann." Leyton reached into the case immediately after uttering the 'name-that-should-never-have-been-pronounced'.

"Grandmaster Valgudryel Targaryen's third and final Masterpiece..." Lord Leyton Hightower stroked the enchanted glass case for pleasant moments... admiring the work as if it were a painting.

Shiny precise blade, nearly four inches wide at the base, five feet long of enchanted steel sharpened to the tip, a thick golden short wavy hilt. A long two-and-a-half-palm handle of blood-red leather and a golden pommel in a lion's head shape.

Leyton paused to observe the 'common' red fire ruby replacement in the centre of the hilt and then continued.

"We still have not been able to find a way to destroy this Artifact. However, long before the disaster of Valyria, our ancestors managed to break its power, weakening it. Only after our ancestors managed to separate the core from the sword and managed to hide body and soul from enemy hands, did they agree to sign the Peace Treaty that persists to this day.

This weapon must never leave this enchanted shrine, Malora. No matter in what desert, ocean or volcano it is buried, the sword will always seek to return to the hands of its rightful owner.

This is..."

It was The Mad Maid who spoke the name.

"Brightroar!"

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End Chapter.

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