Riverlands, Maidenpool
Neferion
Maidenpool was a large port by Westeros standards, surrounded by a pink stone wall, although the Riverlanders had not had it easy under the Stormlands and had long since seen their best years. However, there were still plenty of ships to be found here.
The inhabitants were clearly in no better shape than the town, hungry and miserable. Above the town on a hill rose a fortress made of the same material as the walls. He was heading there eventually, intending to assess whether House Mooton was fit to rule here in his name.
For now, he certainly intended to use them like the other lords to consolidate power. He could be incredibly powerful, but ruling such lands required administration and an army. What would happen to them later depended on how useful and loyal they were. There was always the option of using Bend the Will.
What he saw so far did not fill him with hope. The town was dirty and neglected, and the small amount of resources did not justify this state in the slightest. This was however in line with Agnes Blackwood's words, who had clearly stated that Hoster Mooton and his son were both conceited fools who could just as easily betray them.
Now they had no one to betray him to, with all of Stormland in panic, and Storm's End itself was his, guarded by Ahzidal and his dragon. Plus, he had taken over and bent the minds of both Arrec's wife and sons and his confidants to his will.
The elder of the brothers, Arian would become the Warden of the Stormlands in the future, ruling in his name, just as Nymeria would rule Dorne and the Blackwoods the Riverlands. As for the rest, he would see.
For now, he watched as the ships that Nymeria had sent over a moon ago at his request entered the harbour in single file, each laden with food. Many more were on their way, of course, and while this was a burden on Dorne, the Dornish would soon recoup it with interest. As the vessels docked, the scent of fresh produce wafted through the air, mingling with the salty breeze. He could almost hear the bustling of the dockworkers, eager to unload their precious cargo and bring relief to people.
He intended to squeeze all he could out of the Valyrian cities in exchange for allowing passage through the frozen Stepstones. He hadn't planned on it, but events had turned out the way they had, so he intended to take advantage of what fate had brought. His mind raced with possibilities, each more tantalising than the last, as he envisioned the wealth and influence that could be his.
Soon the ships reached the shore, but they hadn't begun unloading, as some trouble had arisen. Hearing shouts from the shore and seeing messengers rushing every now and then to the keep on the hill, probably sent by the portmaster, he knew he would have to intervene.
So he headed in that direction, and the frightened passersby gave his large figure a wide berth. When he reached the place, he immediately realised that the overseer was causing trouble for the Dornishmen, informing them that he could not accept so many foreign ships without the consent of his lord.
Neferion had no time for foolishness, however, even if the man had the right to do so. His word was law, and these lands would soon learn it.
Stepping closer, he called out, his voice carrying loudly, attracting the attention of the people. "Why do you not want to unload the ships carrying food for these poor, hungry people?"
The overseer flinched at his words and turned, apparently intending to respond angrily, but upon seeing the silhouette of a knight in magnificent armour, towering over him by over two feet, he froze, his eyes widening in horror. All that came out of his mouth was "My Lord..."
The people who had been keeping to themselves, hearing his words about food, began to approach, enticed by hope, even though they knew subconsciously that most of them could not afford it. Seeing this hope mixed with desperation in their eyes, he decided to go ahead and spoke, his voice echoing like thunder through the city and far beyond.
"Why do you refuse to unload these ships full of food for these poor people? Food that is a gift from me to the hungry people of Maidenpool and the entire Riverlands."
The overseer stared at him in fear, probably wondering what kind of magic he was dealing with.
"My Lord, I don't know what you're talking about. This is normal procedure. Who are you anyway...? If I may ask, of course?"
Neferion took off his helmet with a fluid movement, revealing a beautiful, yet inhuman, face. His Aldmeri features, however, gave him an exotic and unique look at the moment, which stood out against the background of those people from whose mouths gasps escaped at the sight of him.
"I am Neferion Aldmeri," he introduced himself, and a smile spread across his face, bringing relief and solace, manifested in the minds of these poor people by his will. "Although you may have heard of me under other names or titles. Dovahkiin, One Whose Voice Shakes The World or Lightbringer."
The shocked looks and shouts accompanying his words made it clear that Morokei and the merchants had done a great job. The people exchanged nervous glances, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and apprehension. "We have heard tales of your deeds," one of them, standing next to the tavern, spoke, his voice trembling slightly, "but we never imagined you would come to our aid in person." Neferion's smile widened, recognising the weight of expectation resting upon him as he prepared to offer them hope in their time of need.
"Lady Agnes Blackwood came to me to ask for help on behalf of her husband, as well as all Riverlaners. To look upon the emaciated and hungry inhabitants of this beautiful land, trampled and oppressed by the Durrandons. SO I AM!"
"I BRING YOU FOOD AND THE HEAD OF ARREC DURRANDON, YOUR TORTURER," he shouted, pulling out of his magic bag the severed and rot-proof head of the dead Storm King.
At these words and the sight of the king's head, something in the empty gazes of these people burst, and a roar of euphoria and worship escaped from their throats; more and more people gathered around, and he continued.
"I bring you liberation and safety. Seven of you have abandoned you, favouring the Stormlanders. I'll tell you, worse. They betrayed you, siding with your oppressors, who deposit YOUR goods and YOUR sweat, blood and tears in their temples!"
"However, seeing your misery, I could not remain indifferent. I swear to liberate your homes and families. Never again will the foot of the invader set foot on your land." And pointing to the crates, which the Dornishmen began to unload, regardless of any agreements, he added.
"Eat, my children. Fill your empty bellies. I bring you hope for a better tomorrow. Today a new dawn is dawning for you."
Surprisingly, despite their hunger, the townspeople did not immediately attack the crates filled with food, waiting instead for the Dornishmen, who placed them at appropriate intervals. He was certain that this was due to fear and respect for him.
Soon his men, because in his mind he had already treated the Dornishmen as such, who had practically abandoned their faith in the Seven in favour of him and openly worshipped him as a new Dornish deity, began to hand out food in the proper order.
However, this peace was disturbed by the arrival of someone he really did not want to see now. Hoster Mooton and a dozen or so guardsmen were making their way on horseback along the beaten path, paying no attention to the people on the rafts along the way. Annoyed, Neferion jumped towards him in two bounds, grabbing his horse and stopping it in its tracks.
The animal stared at him in terror, probably sensing that he was dealing with mortal danger. He held them firmly in place; he did not intend to allow more wounded.
"Idiot, what are you doing?" He turned to the surprised lord, who, instead of being as scared as his mount, blushed with anger and threw all common sense out the window, shouting.
"How dare you insult me? Do you know who I am...ahhh?"
However, he was unable to finish because the pissed-off Neferion grabbed him by the front of his decorated jerkin and, swinging it, threw it several hundred feet into the air. A light flared in his hand, and a second later a golden, glowing spear appeared in it. Solarion.
Aiming and making allowances for the wind, Dovakiin threw it towards the already falling Hoster Mooton. The solar bolt tore the man to shreds, simultaneously burning what was left.
He looked at it with satisfaction, unlike the people who, when they realised what had just happened, stared at him with a mixture of horror and admiration.
Looking around, he cried, "The time has ended for you to live under the rule of fools or tyrants. A time of peace and prosperity is coming to you, and my reign will never end."
At these words the gathering, city folk and Dornishmen alike, fell to their knees, filling the air with cries of gratitude and prayer.
Yes, this was a good start to his campaign in the Riverlands. He would not only conquer these lands but also the hearts and minds of their people.
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Reach, Hightower
Lord Jason Hightower
"I take it we have reached an accord, Lord Vokun?" he asked, though he knew it was unnecessary. All he needed was contained in the letter that now lay before him on the desk.
"Yes, our Master will fulfil his part of the bargain, but only if you fulfil yours." A distorted voice emerged from behind the other's mask. Despite this, Jason could only feel relief and growing confidence.
The millennia of plans and hopes of his family were now coming true. Restoring the family to its rightful glory. When the First Men came to Westeros, his family was already there. When Garth Greenhand became the first king of the First Men, the Hightowers were already here.
The time for change had come, and with a new god, new power was coming. He was tired of dealing with arrogant Septons and Archmaesters who thought they could dictate to him how to rule their city.
He looked at Jonothor, the captain of the guard and his loyal friend, standing at the entrance to the chamber and nodded, indicating that the time had come. He did the same, placing his hand on his chest and leaving the chamber.
Sighing, he walked over to the armchair and sat down heavily, knowing that all he had to do now was wait.
"You did wisely, and you will not regret it." He heard the priest's voice, who stood by the window, staring at the city below. "This world has never seen anyone like our Master and Lord. Eventually, sooner or later, everything will fall under his rule, which will not pass away."
Jason looked at him with curiosity, "Is he really a god or just a powerful sorcerer?" He couldn't help but ask, although when he asked it, it occurred to him that it was not the best idea to doubt the deity in front of his priest. Surprisingly, the other one laughed.
"Does it matter? If someone is so powerful that he kills gods, does he not become one of them? What do you mean by gods? Your gods are simply powerful beings fattened on your faith. Nothing more, nothing less." Vokun replied, turning his head in his direction.
"Even if the Dovahkiin is not a god but he kills such, what will happen when he himself takes on the faith of their followers? Will he not become an even greater god? ... Or something more? Think well, Lord Jason, for I assure you that there is nothing in this world that can defeat my Lord."
He pondered over these words, but one thought troubled him, so he asked, "You say that nothing in this world can defeat Lord Dovahkiin, but what about something beyond this world?"