Lo Quen's eyes narrowed slightly. A red priestess? She came to him of her own accord?
"Let her in."
Moments later, a figure robed in crimson—like a living flame—stepped into the vast hall.
Melisandre had a near-perfect heart-shaped face, skin pale as snow, and a long mane of deep copper-red hair cascading down to her waist. But it was her eyes that drew the breath from the room—dark and burning, filled with a heat that seemed to pierce through flesh and soul alike.
Lo Quen, however, was not looking at her beauty. His attention was on the power that pulsed within her—the distinct, volatile aura of magic.
At the foot of the throne, Melisandre bowed gracefully.
"Your Grace, I have come from the shadows and flames of Asshai in pursuit of prophecy. The fire revealed your image to me—an Yi Ti man with black hair and black eyes, wielding the burning Lightbringer, striking down the servants crawling forth from the ancient darkness. You are the prince foretold—the reincarnation of Azor Ahai—destined to end the Long Night and bring the dawn of light."
Her voice echoed through the great hall.
This was the second time Lo Quen had heard those words. The bloodmage he encountered in the ruins of Valyria had said the same thing. But he didn't believe it.
In the chronicles of the original world, Azor Ahai reborn was almost certainly Jon Snow—or perhaps Daenerys. So why did both the bloodmage and Melisandre call him the chosen one?
Especially the bloodmage—he was Valyrian. And Valyrian dragonlords and their sorcerer caste had never followed the Lord of Light.
He had no answer yet. But Melisandre's appearance here saved him the trouble of seeking her out himself.
He had already been planning to intercept her—to prevent her from helping Stannis murder Renly. He would not allow Renly Baratheon to die so easily at her hands.
Renly represented the bridge between the Stormlands and the Reach—the strongest political union in the realm. His death might seem to strengthen Stannis, but in truth, it only benefited the Lannisters.
In the original history, when Renly died, most of his hundred thousand men—largely from the Reach—abandoned Stannis and joined the Lannisters. Only a small number remained loyal to Stannis, which was one of the reasons his campaign at the Blackwater had been so disastrous.
Even now, though House Tyrell and the Lannisters were at odds after the queen-swap scandal, Tywin's cunning could not be underestimated. The man knew how to bend when needed. If he once again offered the crown to a Tyrell bride, as he had before, Lo Quen couldn't be certain they would refuse.
That outcome could not be allowed.
Renly and the Lannisters were the realm's two strongest forces—they needed to bleed each other first.
His gaze fixed on Melisandre, and a faint, enigmatic smile touched his lips.
"Lady Melisandre? What a coincidence. I too have seen your face in the flames."
Melisandre froze, surprise flickering in her eyes.
"Oh? Then Your Grace also serves the Lord of Light? Which red priest guided you? I have seen none outside..."
"It was no red priest," Lo Quen interrupted softly. "What I saw was a little girl named Melony, on the Basilisk Isles—in the slave markets of Gogossos. She was branded with the mark 'Number Seven,' displayed like property, sold like cattle... until she was taken by the Red Temple of Asshai."
Melisandre went rigid.
For the first time, the mask of serene mystery and divine compassion cracked. Shock and fear crossed her flawless face.
Her molten eyes trembled violently as she stared at the man upon the throne, utterly unable to believe what she had just heard.
"So I was right after all?"
Lo Quen looked down at her, his gaze sharp and burning. "Then, my lady, has the flame ever shown you that the god you serve might have deceived you? I am no Azor Ahai."
Melisandre forced herself out of her shock. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but the red priestess's fanatical faith quickly smothered her momentary doubt.
She shook her head fiercely, her red hair whipping through the air as her voice rang out with conviction. "No, Your Grace! The Lord of Light is the one true god! His flame pierces the deepest darkness! The Long Night is coming, and only you—the Prince That Was Promised—can raise Lightbringer against the servants of the Great Other! This is destiny! The will of R'hllor!"
Lo Quen's patience snapped.
The words of zealots held no weight in his eyes.
His tone chilled. "Enough of your empty riddles, Lady Melisandre. Conquest Keep does not welcome priests or priestesses. Take her away—let her cool her head in the dungeons."
Two guards stepped forward immediately, one on each side, seizing Melisandre's slender but surprisingly strong arms.
She did not resist. Instead, she lifted her head, her eyes burning like molten fire as she fixed them on Lo Quen. Her voice was steady, calm as still embers.
"Your Grace, you will come to believe. R'hllor's visions do not lie. I saw you reborn in the land of Smoke and Salt. I saw you walking among the ruins of the Smoking Sea... I crossed half the world to find you. This is the will of the god—none can defy it."
She followed the guards obediently, her crimson form vanishing into the shadows of the side passage. Only her steadfast words lingered faintly in the hall long after she was gone.
Lo Quen's brow furrowed deeply.
Melisandre had seen his image in Valyria's flames. But even so, he refused to believe he was the chosen one.
In the original history, the first man she had proclaimed as the "Prince That Was Promised" had turned out false—and met a miserable end.
The will of the gods?
If gods truly existed, if R'hllor was real, then he should have descended himself to fight that ancient god of cold. Why rely on mortal servants to find a chosen champion?
The only explanation was that this so-called god could not directly interfere in the mortal world.
And if he could not act in the world himself, why should Lo Quen be led by the nose?
Besides, Jon Snow was clearly the true chosen one—the reincarnation of Azor Ahai.
...
From the corridor behind the throne, Meizo emerged and bowed deeply.
"Your Grace, Renly's army set out from Highgarden five days ago. They march east along the Roseroad toward King's Landing. The golden roses of the Reach and the crowned stags of the Stormlands fill the sky from horizon to horizon."
"And Stannis?" Lo Quen asked.
"He remains at Dragonstone. At present, Stannis lacks ships, men, and coin. After the Battle of Bloodstone Isle, the royal fleet is but a ghost of itself. He's been recruiting frantically, ordering Davos Seaworth to build new ships at any cost—but it's a drop in the ocean. His dear brother Renly, on the other hand, has borrowed a number of armed merchant ships from House Redwyne to blockade the Gullet and trap Stannis completely on Dragonstone."
Lo Quen's eyes glinted. "Redwyne ships heading north to the Gullet must pass through the Stepstones. Let them go—we won't interfere. But make sure we keep a sharp watch on Dorne's coast. I don't want anyone using the chaos to slip through."
"Understood, Your Grace. Lord Morosh's fleet continues to patrol the Bloodstone Isles and will not allow any suspicious vessel to pass."
Meizo bowed again.
After Lo Quen captured Myr, its mercenary admiral, Morosh, had wisely sworn allegiance to him along with several warships. Lo Quen had placed him in command of the Bloodstone line, replacing Hal.
Meizo continued his report. "Your Grace, there is another matter. The decree legitimizing bastards, issued by King Robert before his death, has had little effect. Nearly all the bastards within King's Landing have been quietly executed on the Queen's orders. Edric Storm of Storm's End is under Renly's tight guard. Mya Stone of the Vale is said to be under Lady Lysa's control. However, there is mention of a blacksmith's apprentice named Gendry who was taken away by Ser Barristan Selmy during the chaos of the Lannister army's arrival—and has not been seen since."
Lo Quen nodded. The situation was precisely as he had expected.
In times of war, the status of a bastard meant nothing against true power.
The great houses would place their bets on what they saw as the safer choices—Stannis or Renly.
Besides, the war was still young, and most of the realm remained cautiously watching from the sidelines.
Meizo continued, "One more thing—Jaime Lannister has been captured by Robb Stark near the Whispering Wood. Great Lord Tywin is furious and has ordered Tyrion Lannister to rush to King's Landing to negotiate an exchange for Eddard Stark."
Lo Quen asked, "Eddard Stark hasn't been tried yet?"
"It's tomorrow. Tyrion won't make it in time."
Meizo replied firmly, "King Joffrey will preside over the trial himself. The boy is utterly convinced that Eddard plotted against King Robert and harbors a deep hatred for House Stark. I fear Lord Eddard's chances are slim."
A faint smile crossed Lo Quen's face. He held no illusions that Eddard Stark would survive.
Given the current circumstances, the Lannisters had declared publicly that Eddard murdered Robert. Whether or not Joffrey truly believed it, his impulsive nature made Eddard's death inevitable. And there was another person who would likely ensure it happened.
Meizo then asked, "Your Grace, are you not worried that Renly might seize King's Landing first? The Lannisters are fighting on two fronts, their position unstable. The entire realm believes they murdered King Robert and that Joffrey and his siblings are bastards. Renly commands a hundred thousand men—taking the capital is only a matter of time. If that happens, this war could end much sooner."
Lo Quen did not answer immediately. Instead, he looked at Meizo and said, "The reason I had you plant our agents within the Alchemists' Guild was precisely for this day."
Long before he recruited the fire magi from Lys and Tyrosh, Lo Quen had instructed Meizo to use gold and covert infiltration to establish influence within King's Landing's Alchemists' Guild.
By now, the pyromancers in the capital had fallen into decline, and Meizo's infiltration plan had succeeded perfectly.
A glint of understanding flashed in Meizo's eyes as he caught Lo Quen's meaning. A knowing smile curved his lips. "Your Grace, rest assured. Among those impoverished, fading alchemists in King's Landing, our people already occupy several key positions."
"Excellent."
Lo Quen's smile turned cold. "Have our men approach Cersei—the arrogant and foolish woman is likely drunk on her vanity as Regent. Offer her a few small suggestions. As for Tyrion Lannister, who will soon arrive in King's Landing, he will no doubt do his utmost to stop his sister's madness. If he strips her of power, our agents are to outwardly obey every command of the new Hand of the King... but in truth—"
Meizo nodded, understanding instantly. "I see. Accidents are bound to happen during execution."
Lo Quen nodded with satisfaction, his gaze shifting to the deep blue sea beyond the hall's high windows, where countless masts stood against the horizon.
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on P@treon.
[Upto 50 chapters ahead for now]
[email protected]/BlurryDream