Wright received a letter from King's Landing, informing him that Renly had been poisoned while practicing alchemy. He decided to make a trip to King's Landing alone.
A raven flew from King's Landing to Tyrosh, stopping to rest in the rainforests overnight. By the time it reached Tyrosh, two days had passed since the incident. Using a dragon's roar, Wright called out to the road repairman Odahviing in the Kingswood. With magical assistance, the raven returned to Tyrosh in less than half an hour. However, considering the raven's usual tardiness, Wright estimated a full day, and another day of nonstop flying to reach King's Landing. Four days was the fastest he could manage.
When he arrived at the massive construction site in Tyrosh, there were even more slaves at work. Some buildings, which only required a single story, had already been completed. The expansion of the warehouses and workshops along the port provided Wright with stable income and commercial taxes. He had also hired more slave labor from Volantis.
Wright was packing up in his modest home inside the city. Nymeria and Tyene were stuffing a bag full, while a large pile of things remained beside them. The Fowlers sisters were helping. Nymeria had prepared the bed in advance, as the current occupant was Darcey Mormont from Bear Island in the North.
Wright paced around the bedroom, watching the busy Darcey Mormont in her ceremonial dress. He couldn't understand what charm Nymeria had that could attract such a strong female warrior into her bedroom. Perhaps it was the bond between two female warriors? Or perhaps Nymeria had this innate potential?
Darcey Mormont was a year older than Wright and two years younger than Nymeria. Wright wasn't sure when they had gotten together, but the first time they had interacted was likely during the War of the Stepstones.
Watching their busy figures, Wright asked, "I'm going quickly, so why are you packing so much?"
Nymeria stuffed a bottle of perfume into the bag and glared at Wright. "This is all for Margaery. Can you mind your own business?"
"Alright! But don't just stuff everything into one bag, should I get another one?" Both women's bellies were noticeably round now, and Wright knew better than to argue. He'd learned to just go along with what they said.
"I've prepared food for your trip," Tyene said, stepping aside.
Wright smiled. "Tyene, you're the best!"
"Here, take it," Tyene said, placing a large green coconut into Wright's hand before returning to help pack.
"I'm supposed to eat a coconut after flying for a day?"
Pregnant women were a force to be reckoned with! Wright could only vent his frustration on the coconut, holding the shell in his left hand and raising his right finger:
"Open!"
With a pop, the shell was pierced.
"You can open coconuts with one finger, huh? So impressive! Come on, help me pack!" Nymeria glanced at Wright, clearly uncomfortable with him pacing back and forth.
"Coming, coming! Here, have some coconut water!" Wright handed the coconut to Nymeria, then rummaged through a nearby cupboard for another bag.
At that moment, Ser Balon Swann, the commander of the personal guard, hurried in. "Lord Wright! An unidentified ship has been spotted in the southeastern seas!"
"Take care of it!" Nymeria didn't hesitate when it came to big matters.
Wright nodded, leading Balon Swann to the study. "Unidentified ships are common. Why are you so nervous this time?"
"According to the information sent by Lord Hobber Redwyne, the ship doesn't match the design of any ships from Westeros or the nine free cities, nor does it belong to Slaver's Bay."
Admiral Aurane Velaryon was currently overseeing the fleet patrolling Storm Port. For now, the coastal defense was under the responsibility of Hobber, the Coast Guard officer.
Wright asked, "How many ships are there?"
"Only one large black ship, but it seems to have mages aboard. We don't know whether they are friends or foes."
"Mages? Is it the followers of R'hllor?" Wright wondered, as that was all he could think of for now.
The two of them arrived at the control station for the Eye of Wright, which had been upgraded from the basic setup in the lighthouse's lower levels to the luxurious equipment in the study.
The control station for the Eye of Wright now occupied half of the study, covering about thirty square meters. The floor was etched with intricate magical arrays made from Valyrian steel, with the outermost line connected to a Valyrian steel wire wrapped in cloth, extending up to the top of the lighthouse. In the center of the circular magic array was a wooden rack sculpted in the shape of a dragon's head, with dozens of silk threads extending from the center, connecting to a helmet placed on the rack.
The array at the top had also been enhanced, and the study of magical formations, which began with the analysis of destructive fire traps, had now advanced to the point where they could transform all types of magic into magical arrays. The illusion-based magic beneath the eye, amplified by the array, had the same power as the caster's magical strength but could be projected over great distances.
A seat made of frost rose from the magic array, complete with armrests and a backrest. Wright flicked the hem of his robe and sat down on the icy throne, slowly putting on the helmet.
Each time Ser Balon Swann saw the Eye of Wright activate, he marveled at the wonders of magic, never growing tired of it.
Wright placed his hands on the armrests, the helmet fully covering his eyes. As he began to channel his magic, the intricate magical array on the floor lit up with yellow light, and the silk threads connected to the helmet also turned yellow.
"Yellow!" Balon Swann gripped the hilt of his sword, growing alert. The people from the Stepstones all knew what a yellow magical eye meant.
The fire brazier atop the lighthouse was replaced by a massive yellow magical eye. The eye, with a diameter of thirty meters, appeared enormous from within Tyrosh. It moved like a human eye, adjusting slightly to its surroundings before sweeping across the entire city. It then turned toward the black ship in the southwest at a great distance.
The lighthouse stood at the highest point in Tyrosh, about 130 meters above the sea. This world was larger than earth, and on clear days, the magic could see up to 50 kilometers into the sea.
But the weather today was poor—overcast with light rain and one-meter-high waves. The yellow eye stared intently at the distant black ship, and the black pupil in the center of the eye constantly shrank and expanded, finally halting at a suitable size.
On the distant black ship, people in strange, eccentric clothes were scattered around the deck, chatting in small groups. The coastal defense fleet led by Lord Hobert Redwyn had arrived, with more than a dozen ships already gathered around the black vessel, sailing together.
"The Tyrosh fleet is quite alert!" said a woman in a black robe.
Melisandre, standing next to her, smiled and said, "Tyrosh is full of young people with boundless energy! But, Quaithe, when you arrive in Tyrosh, don't cause trouble. Wright Baratheon kills without hesitation, and no one can stop him."
"We are here to exchange magic, not to fight," Quaithe said, her right hand pulling on a large golden necklace that hung outside her black robe. Her left hand rested in front of her red wooden mask, which was adorned with golden details—a gesture used to initiate magic.
Melisandre replied, "If you wish to approach Wright Baratheon, you can do so through his wife, Nymeria."
"What do you mean?" Quaithe asked.
Melisandre didn't answer directly but smiled mysteriously.
In the distance, a yellow eye appeared atop the lighthouse, turning left and right as it observed the ship.
"Magic eye!"
"Such powerful magic!"
"This trip wasn't in vain!"
A white-robed Wind Sorcerer raised his hands, intending to cast a spell at the eye. Wind Sorcerers, who controlled the flow of air, were part of a faction from Asshai. He wanted to understand the enormous eye.
"I suggest you don't do that. This isn't your Asshai. It's very impolite to cast spells on someone else's magic!" warned the pale-skinned warlock, Paya Bolin.
As soon as the Wind Sorcerer began channeling his magic, the yellow eye immediately turned blood-red. The magic surrounding the eye swirled and shot out in jets. The pupil of the eye transformed into a vertical slit and shot a faint red beam that flew over the sea, enveloping the entire ship.
The surrounding warships blew their horns, and dozens of ships extended countless oars, ready to charge. The large crossbows at the bow were being adjusted by the soldiers, and the fire braziers on the decks were lit. Soldiers gathered at the ship's sides with bows drawn, while officers with long swords kept a sharp eye on the mysterious vessel. The moment the eye moved again, they would unleash a barrage of arrows.
The people on the ship couldn't help but stare at the eye, as if a devil were whispering in their ears. The red light seemed to strip away their sanity, and the dark vertical pupil resembled a vortex, drawing them in. They could feel the eye radiating intense fury.
Some of the weaker-willed people gazed upward in reverence, slowly walking toward the bow of the ship. Others clung desperately to the handrails or lay flat on the deck, trying to turn their heads away from the eye but were powerless to do so.
Quaithe and Melisandre were also affected. Thankfully, Melisandre knew some illusion magic, and since the eye was still at a distance, she quickly broke free from its enchantment. Ignoring the others lost in confusion, she walked alone to the bow of the ship and waved her hands toward the eye.
She could feel the eye's gaze fall upon her, but the red light didn't fade. At such a distance, it was impossible to communicate with words.
After a moment's thought, Melisandre tugged at the collar of her robe, pulling it down to her feet, exposing her white body. She noticed the pupil in the eye visibly contract.
On the swaying bow, the raindrops in the red light looked like falling meteors. A body with snow-white skin and curves appeared even more seductive under the red glow, with the red light scattering over the entire ship, all converging upon her body.
The soldiers on nearby ships gawked in disbelief, never expecting these mages to be so open-minded.
The study in Tyrosh City was now bathed in red light. Sitting in the icy chair, Wright's face was concealed by the helmet, and though Balon Swann couldn't see his eyes, he saw Wright casually crossing his legs and smiling, unable to help but marvel, "Even with an enemy approaching, he remains this composed. Truly worthy of being the Archmage of the Seven Kingdoms!"
In the areas not covered by the red light, Quaithe was the first to snap out of the trance. Seeing the red light gathering at the bow, she walked over and saw Melisandre, naked and bathed in the red glow. "What are you doing?"
"Come join me, and show the highest respect to the light," Melisandre said with a smile, her red hair lifted by the sea breeze, her appearance mesmerizing.
Quaithe placed her hands on the buttons of her black robe, and just as she was about to unbutton them, the red light from afar spread and enveloped both of them.
"Although we are both Shadowbinders, I'm not a follower of the R'hllor faith, so I don't need to show any respect to this light," Quaithe said, rebuttoning her robe and standing still.
The red light faded, and the eye turned back to its original blue before disappearing, leaving only the flames from the lighthouse brazier burning. This signified that Wright had confirmed there was no danger, and the surrounding warships lowered their alertness and slowly dispersed.
Wright removed his helmet. "Ser Balon, the black ships are all full of mages. Notify Commander Ashara of the city guard and have her personally bring them to the port. Make sure we bring every last one of them here!"
"Understood!" Balon Swann responded quickly, running out. Mages were a matter only Wright or Ayshara could handle—he had no such abilities.
After lifting the magic, Wright replaced his helmet and instructed the guards and attendants to move the chairs outside. The castle only had a few rooms, and now all the hosting activities were being held outdoors, as the previous ruins had long been turned into a solid black surface by Aodawaying's dragon flame.
The black ship came from the Eastern Sea, with so many mages aboard. It couldn't be from Volantis or Slaver's Bay—it had to be from Asshai, that cursed place!
Maester Marwyn of the Citadel, after the Ironborn rebellion and shortly after Wright became the Archmage of the Seven Kingdoms, had plans to visit Asshai and acted upon them.
From Tyrosh, one would have to travel east through Lys, Volantis, the Smoking Sea, Slaver's Bay, New Ghis, the Summer Sea, Qarth, the Dothraki Sea, and the Isle of Tears before finally reaching Asshai. Taking the fastest ship would still take over a year, and the return journey would take just as long.
After returning, Maester Marwyn lent Wright his report and travel notes.
In them, Asshai was described as an ancient city whose creators were unknown even to the locals. The city was built entirely from black stone, appearing dark even in daylight.
Outside the city lay the Shadow Lands, where not a single green plant or clear body of water could be seen. As a result, Asshai relied on merchants from various regions to supply them with essentials.
The city's size was comparable to Volantis, Qarth, King's Landing, and Oldtown combined, yet its population was only that of a large market town. The area was toxic, so only mages dared to live there long-term, along with their slaves.
It was also known as the Magic Haven, a place without restrictions or criticism, where anyone could freely experiment with magic or use their slaves as subjects for magical experiments, a place with no rules.
With Nymeria and Tyene seated on either side of him in the square, the Fowler twins stood behind them holding umbrellas, and Darcey Mormont, now donned in armor, stood behind Nymeria. No one ever questioned Tyene's right to sit next to Wright; it seemed entirely natural.
A dozen of Wright's and Nymeria's personal guards stood behind the chairs, holding the banners of the Stag and Longspear flags, neatly arranged in a row.