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A Thousand Year Voyage (Elden Ring-ASOIAF) by pemmil

A Song of Ice and Fire & Elden Ring Xover Rated: T, English, Humor & Adventure, Words: 203k+, Favs: 753, Follows: 949, Published: Jul 15, 2024 Updated: Sep 5

361Chapter 5: A tale of knights and dragons

"I must admit that this town is very charming." The old man remarked casually, stroking the 'beard' incorporated into his mask and looking around at the passing buildings with some curiosity in his eyes. "The town's architecture feels somewhat similar to both Sellia and Belurat, but it has some interesting elements unique to itself, stemming from the local coastal culture."

"...I don't see anything remarkable about this town." His interlocutor replied, merely running her uninterested gaze over the area and shrugging her spiky shoulders. 'The town is small, the civilisation primitive, and there is a stench of Bayle's foul progeny in the air. There are many places I'd rather be."

The ones talking were, of course, Ansbach and Florissax, who were currently making their way through Oldtown at a steady pace, confidently moving towards their destination, a stone building complex situated on the edge of the city, referred to as the Citadel by the locals.

Their striking appearance, both the iron, bearded mask worn by the Ansbach and Florissax's draconic appearance, clearly distinguished them from the locals, making them the centre of attention of passing citizens, all casting bewildered and concerned glances in their direction. While some might have been intimidated by the intense amount of attention received, this particular pair didn't seem to care, passing confused onlookers without any problem.

"I think that's exactly the problem. If you compare everything to metropolises like Leyndell or Farum Azula, the only thing that will await you on your journey is disappointment." Ansbach declared with a smile, his own words prompting him to reminisce about the city floating in the air that he had visited with his righteous lord, Florissax, and the rest of the entourage during their quest for the Elden Ring. Primal civilisation hidden in the sky, battles with feral beastmen, an audience with a dragon lord in a place outside of time... yes, it was certainly a unique experience. However, in his long life, Ansbach had learnt to take pleasure in lesser thrills as well, something Florissax clearly could not do. 'Comparing them with every town and settlement you meet defeats the purpose of visiting them, don't you think? It's better to just accept things as they are. Surely you can find something worth seeing in Oldtown if you know where to look."

"If you say so." Replied Florissax indifferently, rolling her slitted eyes at the man's comment. Although she understood what Ansbach was trying to convey, his words did not appeal to her, especially given her draconic nature.

As an immortal being with a past dating back to a time when dragons ruled the world and the Lands Between were still young, she found it difficult to see anything special in every single settlement she encountered. After all, how could a town built by human hands compare to Farum Azula in its prime? How could stone walls match the walls of dragon bones adorning the flying city? It was beyond impossible, which is why Florissax was not even going to attempt it.

"Well, have it your way." Ansbach chuckled, knowing better than to try to convince an ancient dragon of something, then looked at the woman with a questioning gleam in his eye. "Still, if you are not here for the sights, will you finally tell me why you decided to come with me? It's not that I don't appreciate your presence, but it's quite unusual for you to leave Lord Hadwyn of your own accord, to visit a human city no less."

"You don't have to worry, Ansbach. I simply sensed something troubling when we arrived in town and wanted to investigate." The dragon replied. "It won't interfere with whatever business you have with the scholars."

"Believe me, that's the least of my worries." Replied Ansbach 'I just want to remind you that Lord Hadwyn made it clear he doesn't wish to antagonise the local population. I hope you remember that."

"Rest assured, Ansbach. Lord Hadwyn is aware of what I am doing." The dragoness replied, actually looking somewhat offended by the accusation. "Anyway, I do not plan to attack any natives. If anything, any actions I may take will only benefit this town in the long run."

Though most would not have noticed, Ansbach was old, and the days of battle were long behind him. Although he was still able to take care of his own safety, the battle with General Radahn had made it clear to him how much his skills had deteriorated compared to his prime. He doubted whether he would be useful to Lord Hadwyn as a warrior for much longer.

However, there were other ways to prove himself. It was for this reason that Ansbach volunteered for the expedition to the Citadel, wishing to be of some use to Lord Hadwyn despite his advancing age. Given the nature of their journey, the man decided that the best way to help would be to expand his knowledge and develop the ship's rapport with the local population. Admittedly, he was far from being all-knowing (Ansbach chuckled inwardly at his little joke), but he considered himself a somewhat experienced individual, whose thoughts and knowledge could be of some use to his new lord and the other members of the voyage.

It wasn't long before the pair arrived at the complex, their destination clearly visible despite the cloudy weather prevailing in the city due to the distinctive size of the structure and its specific location. The citadel was situated on the nearby river, where its towers and domes were connected with arching stone bridges. The entire complex was surrounded by rock walls, from behind which sizeable, good quality stone buildings could be seen towering over the surrounding area. The only way to get into the complex was through a gate located behind the bridge, around which all sorts of merchants and potential guests planning to visit the Citadel would congregate.

Passing said gate, Ansbach's attention was drawn to the fact that it was flanked by a pair of tall green statues with the bodies of lions, the wings of eagles and the tails of serpents. One of them had the face of a man, the other a woman. He found this quite interesting as it suggested the presence of misbegotten or their local counterparts in Oldtown, which stood in contrast to the observations he had made earlier regarding the city's exclusively human population. Perhaps this was something that would be worth enquiring about when talking to the scholars.

The first thing that caught Ansbach's eye after passing through the citadel's gates was the presence of countless stalls spread out on both sides of the main road. It was there that various young scholars would trade all sorts of merchandise, particularly books and maps found on display, as well as offering calligraphy services to Oldtown residents. The fact that the scholars at the stalls only had one, maximum two links each, which were, according to Ansbach's findings, indicative of the acquired knowledge among these so-called maesters, suggested that the vendors were merely apprentices or journeymen, sent by their masters to sell goods.

Due to the crowd gathering on the road, Ansbach and Florissax managed to walk to the end of the path relatively unnoticed, although they did cause some puzzled looks among some of the vendors. The pair soon came to a place where the road diverged on account of a stone statue of an unknown ruler on horseback, who was pointing south with his sword.

A quick analysis of the nearby road signs suggested that one road led to the main building of the complex, where the maesters' headquarters and the main library could be found, while the other road seemed to lead towards the Citadel's dock.

"I think this will be a good place to split up." Florissax said suddenly, snapping Ansbach out of his study. As the man turned towards her, he noticed that the dragoness' face was directed towards the dock, her eyes unfocused. "Whatever I am looking for, I feel it is somewhere near the docks."

"If you think it's better that way." Ansbach replied simply, his desire to be useful to his lord much stronger than his meagre curiosity about the object of the ancient dragon's pursuit. "Shall I find you when I am done?"

"No." Dragoness shook her head. "I don't know how long it will take me to complete my task, so there is no point in you wasting your time. I will meet you again on the ship."

"I see. In that case, good luck with whatever you are planning to do." Ansbach nodded and headed towards the road leading to the left, climbing up the rising path and leaving Florissax behind.

Soon, his destination appeared before his eyes. It was a fortress of dark, almost black stone located in the centre of the compound. The building was relatively large compared to the surrounding structures, indicating its special nature. At the centre of the building was a tall tower, resembling a spire, culminating in an observation platform, presumably used by the maesters to observe the sky and study the stars. There were also several smaller towers of different heights rising from the roof, connected to each other by rope bridges.

The entrance to the building was adorned with heavy iron-wrought oak doors leading into the main hall. The hall was spacious and austere, lit only by torches and light streaming in through narrow, tall windows. The walls were lined with shelves full of books and scrolls, and the air was permeated with the smell of old paper and parchment, evoking in Ansbach memories of past attacks on the knowledge repositories of the Golden Order.

The entire hallway was full of busying maesters, each with a chain consisting of a different kind of links, carrying all sorts of books and parchments in their hands for a purpose known only to themselves. The tasks they were performing seemed to consume them utterly, for no one paid any attention to Ansbach for a while, a new visitor in a building insignificant in the face of their duties.

Not wanting to wait for being noticed, Ansbach approached a young maester sitting behind a bench in the centre of the room. The young man, no older than twenty, wore a simple grey robe and three links, automatically making him more important than the scholars outside, though the exact significance of these links were lost on Anbach.

For a moment, Ansbach was mildly amused by the use of chains around the neck as an indicator of one's knowledge, but quickly decided that such an assessment would be slightly hypocritical, given that the scholars of the Raya Lucaria academy considered it prudent to wear masks of stone as a symbol of belonging to a particular conspectus. Compared to that, the method of the maesters was quite tame.

"Excuse me, can I ask you a question?" Ansbach asked the maester, snapping the young man out of his work. The sight of the old man must have disturbed him a little, for upon raising his eyes, the boy immediately turned pale, his skin in colour reminiscent of the parchment he had been writing on.

"A-ah! Hello, I-am Maester Martin. Can...can I help you in any way?" The maester's gaze traveled over Ansbach as he spoke these words, focusing in particular on his mask and the scythe blade protruding from beneath his robes. It was clear in the maester's eyes that he had made an educated guess as to the nature of the newcomer, but it was also clear that he did not want to be right.

"Hello, my name is Ansbach and I am...hmm, the most appropriate term would probably be to call me the seneschal of Lord Hadwyn, captain of the Wisdom of the Moon. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." Ansbach stated, watching with some amusement the mixture of emotions forming on the scholar's face. It was clear that there was an internal battle between fear and fascination within the boy, his silhouette twitching as if under the influence of an invisible wind. "I am here because I need information about this land and I thought this would be the best place to find someone willing to give me such information. Unfortunately, I have no local currency, but I am able to return the favour with information about the land I come from, the Lands Between. Would it be possible to arrange some sort of meeting in this regard?"

"I-I will check! P-please wait, I'll check right away to see if there is anyone available!" The boy replied and almost immediately ran off, hungrily seizing the opportunity given to him by Ansbach and leaving the visibly amused man alone.

As it turned out, finding the right person was more difficult than it might have seemed, as Ansbach spent the next hour observing the work of the nearby maesters, though even this became less and less frequent as more and more of them noticed the presence of the newcomer from across the sea, ceasing their work and beginning to whisper something amongst themselves.

It took a while, but eventually Maester Martin returned, guiding the other scholar behind him. The man was older than the boy, about middle-aged, strands of grey visible in his brown hair and his figure slightly hunched by the passage of time. He wore a chain longer than those seen on the scholars Ansbach had encountered so far, a considerable number of links trailing from the walking maester's neck. Most of these links were made of copper, which Ansbach understood suggested extensive knowledge in some area of specialisation.

"I apologise for taking so long." The older maester remarked at the outset, throwing Ansbach an apologetic smile. "I am maester Perestan. I'm not sure how familiar you are with citadel practices, but as copper maester, my speciality is history and politics. I hope this will prove sufficient to answer any questions you may have. If you allow, we can have further conversation in my study."

'It's no problem. Ser Ansbach, Lord Hadwyn's seneschal and the last of the Pureblood Knights." Ansbach replied, bowing slightly, then pointed with his hand towards the corridors emerging from the hall. "Please, lead the way."

Leaving a relieved Martin behind, Ansbach and Perestan began their journey through the long and narrow corridors of the Citadel, their silhouettes casting deep shadows against the walls illuminated by oil lamps.

The journey did not take long, no more than a few minutes, and soon the pair reached one of the rooms in the corridor, separated by a wooden door. Upon entering the premises, Ansbach saw a modest room with solid stone walls and small windows through which a sparse amount of daylight streamed in. In the centre of the room one could find a desk covered with parchments, books and various writing instruments, while on the walls were shelves bending under the weight of books and scrolls. In the corner stood a simple bed with woollen blankets, next to which was a night table with an olive lamp.

"Please, sit down, sit down." Encouraged the maester, pointing to a chair in front of the wooden desk. Without waiting for Ansbach's reply, the maester walked over to the small cabinet located behind the desk and pulled out a ceramic bottle filled with red liquid. "Something to drink? I can offer some dornish wine. Quite good if you have a taste in such things. I got it from a friend in Yronwood, though I suppose that name wouldn't mean anything to you."

"No, thank you." Ansbach politely declined, waving his hand. While he didn't see a problem with drinking alcohol once in a while, he had a task at hand at the moment and wanted to keep his mind fully operational.

"Suit yourself." Said the maester, pouring himself some wine into a goblet and sitting down on the opposite side of the desk, the chair creaking gently under his weight. There was silence between the men for a moment, but then Perestan snorted with laughter. "You know, your offer caused quite a stir among the copper maesters present in the Citadel. Everyone was so fascinated by what you could offer, but no one had the courage to volunteer themselves. The reputation of the outsiders from overseas, I suppose. You should have seen the look on their faces when I volunteered. I haven't seen so much relief and jealousy on people's faces since Malcolm was chosen to conserve 'Fire and Blood'."

"Oh?" Ansbach replied with a smile, looking at Perestan with some newfound curiosity. Apparently he had come across a scholar braver than many. "Does this mean that I have the pleasure of speaking to the bravest maester in the Citadel?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that. Inwardly I am shaking with fear." Perestan laughed, his words not supported by his confident stature and determined eyes. "I guess it's just that my inner curiosity about foreign lands hasn't yet burned out as much as I expected it to. Well, it certainly doesn't hurt either that writing down the history of your realm will put my name in history, as well as help me gain a position of Archmaester."

The Maester smiled cheekily as he said this, a cunning gleam evident in his eyes. Ansbach found that he unwittingly smiled upon hearing the maester's words, his ambition a pleasant sight for the old warrior.

"But of course it's not me who is supposed to be the subject of our conversation, is it?" Perestan asked, slapping his hands lightly on the desk and leaning back in his chair. 'What can I assist you with, Ansbach?"

"I suppose it would be best if you started by telling me a little more about the very land we are currently in." Ansbach declared, stroking his 'beard'. "In the course of my stay here, I have been able to gather that this city, Oldtown, is located in the region known as the Reach, which is part of the secular kingdom of Westeros. That, however, is unfortunately where my current knowledge ends, so I hope you will be able to expand on that."

"This is a rather broad topic, but I will do my best to rise to the challenge. I would however like to start by correcting the mistake you just made. Don't worry, it is a small mistake, typical for new arrivals." Perestan replied, smiling good-naturedly and taking a more comfortable position. 'You see, Westeros is the landmass we are on, the kingdom itself, however, is called the Seven Kingdoms. It derives its name from the seven, independent lands located in Westeros that were conquered by Aegon I Targaryen during the so-called 'Aegon's Conquest'. I must say, however, that there is no functional difference between the Seven Kingdoms and Westeros itself, given that almost all of Westeros is under the rule of the Targaryens."

"And yet, the phrase "almost" suggests the existence of other realms, doesn't it? So are there also other kingdoms in Westeros?" Ansbach asked, noting the peculiar wording used by the maester.

"Ah, it is my fault for being imprecise, is it not?" Perestan smiled, 'No, there are no kingdoms beyond the Seven Kingdoms, the various "Kings-Beyond-the-Wall" notwithstanding. The only lands outside the Seven Kingdoms are in the deep north, where you can find 'free folk' or 'wildlings' who reject the king's rule. They are, however, isolated from the rest of Westeros by the Wall, confined to the lands of eternal winter so they are almost completely unimportant in the grand scheme of things."

"And what is all this 'Wall'?" Ansbach asked, sensing in the maester's tone of voice that the name had some deeper meaning than a mere barrier fencing off barbarians.

"The Wall is...well, a wall, seven hundred feet high and three hundred miles long, made almost entirely of pure ice. It is manned by the military order of the Night's watch and it separates the so-called 'Beyond the Wall' from the rest of Westeros." The Maester explained, for some reason watching Ansbach's masked face as he described the Wall, as if expecting some kind of reaction out of him. When he did not receive one, however, Ansbach's reaction limited to internally noting the existence of an elite, ice-controlling order of knights in the north, the maester sighed and continued the story. "No one quite knows why Brandon the Builder built the wall. Some say it was just to fence off the wildlings, but the sheer size of the wall and the magic that must have been used to build it..."

"Yes?" Ansbach asked, sensing that Perestan was hesitant to speak about something. He didn't know what it was exactly, but the very fact that the maester wanted to keep quiet about it made the information potentially valuable.

"...Legends say that the Wall was built not to separate the wildlings, but to protect the people from the Others." Not seeing Ansbach react to the name spoken, Perestan decided to elaborate. 'The Others are mythical monsters who in the past are said to have brought "Long Winter" to Westeros, an eternal frost intended to bring death and destruction to the people. They are said to have cold blue eyes burning like ice and they supposedly loathe all life, their grim death march bringing death to anyone who meets them. According to legends, they were defeated during the Battle for the Dawn and exiled to the far north. It is claimed that they are gathering strength to attack the realm of men once more, only the Wall keeping them from once again bringing a long winter...if the legends are to be believed, of course."

Although the maester was clearly uncomfortable with what he had just said, as if unsure whether to believe his words himself, Ansbach instead focused on a thought that had crossed his mind.

"According to these legends, do those so-called Others perhaps resemble Zamor warriors? Ah, you probably don't know who I'm talking about. They are a humanoid race, ten feet tall, with grey-blue skin and the ability to manipulate the surrounding temperature in order to summon frost. Is it possible that they are the ones these legends refer to?" Ansbach asked, a certain theory slowly forming in his head.

"I...don't really know how to answer that question." Perestan stated after a moment, his voice full of hesitation. "The legends do not refer in detail to their appearance, merely indicating that they wish to bring death and destruction to the world of men."

Ansbach nodded slowly, his suspicions seemingly confirmed. The story told by the maester sounded quite similar to the typical propaganda the Golden Order spread among its subjects to justify its bloody conquests and genocide. These Others might just as well have been a mere colony of Zamor Knights who had been forced to flee into the deep snows because of the prosecution. Then again, he had no way of verifying his theory, nor did he want to unnecessarily antagonise the maester talking to him.

"Are there any races other than humans in the Seven Kingdoms?" The warrior asked instead, recalling the statues he had seen outside the Citadel gate. "I did not see any members of other races during my journey through the city, but statues of misbegotten-like creatures could be seen in front of the entrance to your compound."

"Statues...? Ah, you must mean sphinxes." The maester replied after a moment's thought, confusion quickly replaced by recognition. "No, I'm afraid you won't see any, let's call them, magical races in Westeros, except perhaps giants and children of the forest, who, according to the tales, live beyond the wall. Admittedly, there were dragons living in Westeros until recently, but they became extinct just over a hundred years ago..."

"Oh? Dragons, you say?" Ansbach asked, his tone much more animated than before. The man leaned out of his chair and looked at the maester with a newfound focus. "My companion mentioned that she sensed a subtle presence of dragons in this land, but she was unable to elaborate on that. As I understand it, we are talking about typical dragons? Big and mindless, with wings also serving as front legs?"

"... These are the only kind of dragons I know about." Perestan replied slowly, his voice uncertain. Most likely, the man did not enjoy the implication that there were other types of dragons besides the aforementioned ones, but if that was the case, the man didn't mention it. "Dragons appeared in Westeros less than three hundred years ago when Aegon Targaryen and his sisters used them to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. It is said that the Targaryens' blood allowed them to bond with dragons, making them serve as willing mounts. Either way, none of the noble families of Westeros could oppose such a power, allowing the Targaryens to easily defeat the noble families and create the Seven Kingdoms. For a time, dragons provided the Targaryens with undivided power in the realm, but about a century ago they became extinct in a fratricidal war between the descendants of Aegon the Conqueror, depriving the Targaryens of their most powerful weapon."

"Hah, my companion will really enjoy this story." Asnbach laughed, but internally he analysed the obtained information. It seemed that Florissax had correctly sensed that Bayle's lesser drakes were somehow connected to the surrounding lands. Although the maester believed the dragons to be extinct, Ansbach had his doubts. After all, everything indicated that the Targaryens were some kind of dragon communion users who had found a way to dominate dragons and use them as war machines. However, if the Targaryens' only real power was the dragons they commanded, they would have long ago been overthrown by their conquered subjects, eager for revenge for the wrongs they had suffered.

There were two explanations for this: either the dragons were not really extinct in Westeros, merely waiting in hiding until one of their subjects dared to challenge the king, or the Targaryens, despite the absence of dragons, were somehow able to maintain their hold over the Seven Kingdoms, either through skills already acquired through dragon communion or through some other abilities possessed by them. Regardless of which explanation was correct, Ansbach felt that it would be prudent to look more closely at the royal family and the potential threat they might pose to the Wisdom of the Moon.

"Yes. It's certainly quite an interesting story with, at least in my opinion, a happy ending for everyone involved." Perestan replied with a smile, taking a sip of wine from the goblet he was holding.

"Oh? Is there any particular reason why you think so?" Ansbach asked lightly, glancing at the amused maester. "It's not that I disagree, as the death of these bothersome reptiles can only benefit the world, but I'm curious about the arguments behind your view."

'It's simple, really. Dragons were...a symbol. A symbol of a time when the only thing that mattered was pure strength. If you were able, you could do whatever you wanted without any consequences, using survival of the fittest as an excuse. It was certainly an interesting period of time for someone interested in history, but we all should be glad that those times are over." Perestan replied, his upwardly directed gaze making him unable to see how Ansbach stilled with each subsequent word from the maester. "Now that Old Valyria has fallen and the dragons are extinct, the people have finally managed to enter a new and better era. Rulers are no longer chosen solely for their individual strength and mythical beasts, but for the prevailing tradition and pedigree. This is certainly a much more civilised, much better way than barbaric power struggles."

As the maester finished speaking, a grave silence fell over the room, a chill beginning to fill the room. Puzzled by that, the man looked at his interlocutor, only to see Ansbach sitting still, pure, unadulterated incomprehension evident in his eyes.

"...Let me make sure I have understood you correctly." The old man spoke quietly with a blank voice, his tone making the maester somewhat uneasy. "...Are you saying that in the Seven Kingdoms people follow a ruler not because of their talent and strength, the mark of a true lord, but because of...the simple fact that the current ruler is a descendant of the previous one?"

'This is a normal approach, is it not? Civilisation could not function if power changed every time someone stronger came along. Talent and strength are of course important and welcome in a ruler, but what's crucial to a monarchy is the stability that the succession brings. There are better and worse rulers, to be sure, but the lineage itself persists, providing order and stability to the land." Perestan stated with some emotion, defending his fully rational opinion. Immediately afterwards, however, he realised the implications of the question Ansbach had asked. "Does this mean that...in the land you come from, there are no hereditary titles, and power is only gained by force?"

The realisation that such a barbaric system could function in a far more technologically advanced civilization of the outsiders chilled Perestan to the core. He prayed to the Seven to be wrong, as confirmation of these words could mean that Oldtown was about to become the first foothold in the conquest of Westeros.

"Hereditary titles exist in the Lands Between, but even then, the heir must prove themselves worthy of the title. No matter what the Carians might say about it, Queen Rennala had to prove her right to rule, and so did Princess Ranni. No sensible warrior or sage would willingly follow someone whose only right to rule is the blood of past heroes." Ansbach replied, almost shocked by the maester's absurd words. "If the world worked as you describe, Godrick, the runt of Lord Godfrey's divine blood, would be sitting on the Elden Throne instead of rotting in a distant ruin, surrounded by mercenaries and outlaws as he deserved."

"And this is what the ideal regime means to you? When you serve only the strongest, ready to betray him whenever he shows weakness?" Perestan asked in shock, almost leaping from his chair upon hearing the old warrior's insane views. "What you are describing is barbarism that could only function among Dothraki and other uncivilised tribes!"

"You do not abandon your lord when he shows weakness." Ansbach declared fervently, defending the honour of both his past and present Lords. 'When your lord fights, you fight alongside him. When your lord falls, you lift him up. When your lord dies, you avenge him. By choosing a lord you dedicate your whole life to that lord, anything else would be treason of the highest order. But a lord must also earn such devotion, He must have something worth following, a vision that sets him apart from the countless other souls wandering the world. If you are not obedient to a person, but to an institution, you cannot be called loyal."

"During our conversation you struck me as an intelligent and thoughtful man. Do you really think it's right to follow someone solely because of strength and charisma, completely ignoring everything that makes a ruler a ruler?" Asked Perestan with a certain desperation in his voice, as if unwilling to believe that these were the views held by the right hand of the ruler of a land far superior to the Seven Kingdoms.

Ansbach could only laugh upon hearing the question, memories of the battle between Lord Hadwyn and Lord Godfrey flooding into his mind.

Ansbach was walking silently up the monumental stairs leading to Leyndell's throne room, his gaze fixed on Lord Hadwyn walking in front of him. The air around the man seemed to be filled with electricity, the echo of the lord's footsteps serving as the only sound in the silent city.

Hadwyn climbed with a confident stride, seemingly unaware of the tension everyone else was feeling. His sword and shield, gleaming in the glow of Erdtee's burning leaves, seemed to emanate a strange energy, as if even they were aware of what was about to happen. At the top of the stairs, in the middle of the open space serving as a throne room, awaited Godfrey, the first Elden Lord, a living legend surrounded by an aura of indescribable majesty.

As the group, led by Hadwyn, reached the top, the former Elden Lord stood up from the body of his fallen son and looked at them, lust for battle and the respect for the pretender to the throne blending in his eyes.

"Lord Godfrey, it has been a long time." Hadwyn began, bowing his head slightly in a show of respect but never submission. "I wish we could converse, but I fear I have come to claim the promised title of Elden Lord, and you stand in my way."

"Ah, Tarnished Warrior." replied Godfrey, his voice deep and full of dignity. "Long and hard didst thou fight, but art thou really worthy to claim the title of Elden Lord?"

"I believe so. After all, there is only one corpse left in my path." Hadwyn replied, grabbing his sword. When his companions wanted to follow his example, he stopped them with a movement of his hand. "I will fight alone, I think. The title of Elden Lord can only be carried by one and therefore only one can fight for it."

"As it shouldst be. Alloweth our fight be a testament to our strength and conviction." Godfrey nodded, reaching himself for the axe hanging on his back.

The two combatants let out mighty roars that shook the entire surroundings and threw themselves at each other. Hadwyn's sword and shield met Godfrey's axe in a series of rapid movements. Each strike was precise and powerful, the sound of metal hitting metal echoing throughout the entire Leyndell. The fight seemed to go on forever, each strike, each block, was a work of art, an ascension beyond the realm of men and into the domain of gods and monsters. The Lion and the Wolf circled each other in a murderous dance, each moment marked by another wound, another cut.

Blood drenched the entire throne room as with each passing moment the warriors would further and further abandon any semblance of humanity, goring into each other with reckless abandon. Godfrey threw away his axe and humanity, fighting with his bare hands like a ravenous beast, while Hadwyn discarded his shield and grasped his sword with both hands, defence rejected in the name of pure devastation.

At one point, minutes or perhaps days after the fight began, Hadwyn finally spotted a fatal moment of weakness in Godfrey's movements. Seizing the opportunity, he struck a decisive blow. His sword penetrated Godfrey's defences, piercing the Elden Lord's body and ending the duel.

"Brave Tarnished... Thy strength befits a crown." Godfrey, falling to one knee, whispered with difficulty.

'Lord Godfrey.' Hadwyn replied, breathing heavily and raising his sword above his enemy's head. "Your vigil is finally over. Rest well, knowing that I shall take this noble task from your hands."

And as Hadwyn's sword fell, ending the life of the first Elden Lord and symbolising the rise of a new one, Ansbach finally realised what he had always suspected. Lord Hadwyn was a true lord, a worthy successor to Lord Mogh and one destined to change the world.

"...Yes." Ansbach whispered, memories awakening an old forgotten passion within him. He looked at the maester with blazing eyes, his every word flowing with determination and an almost inhuman loyalty to the lord he had sworn to serve. "That is exactly what I believe. Only a worthy lord is worth pursuing. And Lord Hadwyn...he is the most worthy of all."

Perestan turned pale upon hearing Ansbach's words, his face, previously red from emotion, now filled with a haunting pallor. For he finally grasped what exactly he was dealing with.

He was looking at a figure taken straight out of legends. Loyal, full of virtues, ready to make the supreme sacrifice for his lord. No task was too difficult and no sacrifice too costly. If this was the mentality of the newcomers from across the sea...

The thought terrified him to the very core.

For most of her long life, Florissax had no purpose that would give her life meaning.

Though she spent eons serving Lord Placidusax loyally, willing to give her life for her sovereign, the very nature of the service she performed did not satisfy her. Forced to abandon her draconic form to commune with mortals, Florissax has spread the mysteries of dragon communion among mortals for thousands of years, her actions designed to oppose Bayle and his foul progeny. But no matter how long she performed her duty, how many warriors she converted and how many lesser drakes died as a result of her actions, nothing changed.

Regardless of her efforts, the Archenemy continued to live, and his offspring multiplied and spread across the Lands Between. For thousands of years, she was forced to watch others fight futilely in her place, she herself unable to join them due to her role and the sacrifices she made.

She didn't know when, but at some point she began to fixate on the mortals she was guiding, their impulsive nature fascinating to the old dragon. There was something utterly fascinating about their ambition and drive, caused by their short life span, which pushed the mortals to greater and greater deeds.

It was this ambition, burning like the fire of creation in Lord Hadwyn's chest, that made Florissax decide to join him after he returned after killing Bayle and devoured his vile heart before her very eyes. It was curiosity as well as admiration, love as well as respect, all those emotions boiling in her heart as she watched Archnemy's slayer stride ahead without fear or hesitation, ambition pushing him to great things. It was for this reason that when they came to Farum Azula to release the rune of death, Florissax faced Lord Placidusax and asked permission to permanently join this fascinating mortal, so that she could see with her own eyes where this ambition would lead him.

And when she saw her lord go against the gods themselves and knock them down from the heavens to take their place...she knew she had made the right choice. Now and always, she would follow him, his word her command, his will the order of her world.

There were, of course, certain concessions associated with serving Lord Hadwyn. His mate's identity meant that Florissax had to make certain...individual concessions regarding the extermination of lesser dragons. Leaving aside these minor deviations, however, Lord Hadwyn was quite agreeable to her attitude towards Bayle's children, sometimes even supporting her in her hunts.

This was significant because when Wisdom of the Moon arrived in Oldtown, the first thing the dragoness felt was the stench of Bayle's foul progeny. It permeated every building, every tree and every inhabitant of the town, sickening her utterly.

When Florissax informed Lord Hadwyn of her observations of the plans on how to deal with the stench, he gave her his blessing, knowing the importance of her eternal mission.

It was for this reason that she made the trip with Ansbach to the citadel, as this was where the source of the stench was coming from. Wandering through the complex in search of the source eventually led her to hidden, half-forgotten tunnels covering the entire city, its entrance hidden in the Citadel's docks.

She spent hours wandering through the dark, empty tunnels, with stray rats and lizards as her only companions, but eventually she arrived at the origin of the disgusting smell. Whatever it was, it was hidden behind an old metal door, behind which was a chamber of unknown purpose.

Without any hesitation, Florissax ripped out the metal padlock protecting the door in one motion and entered the dark room, to her dragon eyes as bright as daylight.

The interior of the chamber was filled with all sorts of objects, from paintings to clothes to bottles filled with unknown substances. In the centre stood a large wooden table on which lay several old books and maps, while the walls of the chamber were filled with shelves containing all sorts of objects, both familiar and unfamiliar to her. If someone more interested in the contents had entered the chamber, they would probably have said that Florissax had discovered some long-forgotten storeroom or stash of smugglers.

Florissax was alone, however, and the contents of the room did not concern her. All her attention was focused on a metal, wrought-iron chest standing in the corner of the room. Inside this chest, wrapped in expensive fabrics, Florissax found a blue, round object covered in scales and radiating a gentle warmth.

It was a dragon egg.

In that moment Florissax realised that it was the egg that was the source of the stench filling Oldtown, an unhatched cub trying to lure anyone who would help it hatch with its scent. Admittedly, there was something odd about the egg, its nature quite different from those encountered in the Lands Between, she had no doubt that there was an egg of the lesser drake before her.

As Florissax took the egg in her hand, the blue, scaly-covered shell warm in her palm, she felt the intense emotions coming out of the egg, primal, draconic urges clearly felt from beneath the scaly shell.

'Mother, release me' yelled the egg.

'Mother, warm me' cried the egg.

'Mother, feed me' demanded the egg.

Hearing those words, those cries filled with desire and mindless yearning of a dragon yet to be born, Florissax smiled, her face taking on an almost maternal expression. She tenderly took the blue egg in both hands, like a mother hugging her young...

...and crushed the egg, her draconic strength turning the petrified shell and its priceless contents to dust, scattering the dragon's remains across the room. An inaudible scream rose into the air, full of pain and rage, impotent fury at a squandered destiny. Florissax, however, was deaf to the cries of dragon-who-was-not-to-be, her lips twisting in a satisfied smile.

"Death for all of Bayle's foul progeny." The dragoness whispered to herself, shaking the remnants of the dragon fetus off her hands and walking out of the room, joy evident in her steps.

And while she didn't realize it, Florissax wasn't the only one who heard the cries of an unborn dragon.

Far away from Oldtown, in the highest chambers of an entirely different city, another dragon egg moved in response. But when the child in the room turned toward the quivering object, noticing its movement out of the corner of their eye, the egg was already motionless, its condition the same as before.

Deciding that their imagination had played tricks on them, the child shrugged their shoulders and returned to their reading.

Chapter 914 - 5