The Lannister graveyard in Casterly Rock had just held a small funeral. There weren't many people attending, just close relatives.
Ser Harys Swyft embraced his weeping eldest daughter, Dorna. The guests and the septon had already left, leaving only the two of them by the gravestone, unwilling to depart.
The deceased was Shierle Swyft, Jaime's legitimate wife.
Dorna Swyft, wife of Kevan Lannister, knew something: "It was Cersei. She's the one who killed my sister!"
"Don't! Don't say it!" Ser Harys quickly covered his daughter's mouth.
His younger daughter, after remarrying Jaime, had once told him that Cersei often beat and scolded her. Later, in formal settings, Cersei would even mock her. Yet, for the sake of the family's rise, he'd always advised his daughter to try and win Cersei's favor.
When Tywin had left with his retinue on a sudden campaign, and upon his return, he found that his daughter had died!
The manner of Shierle's death was horrific. According to the Maester' analysis and after seeing the scene himself, Shierle had been locked inside a wardrobe in Jaime's bedroom. After starving, she had gnawed on the wood, ultimately dying from starvation and internal bleeding. Only women had remained in Casterly Rock, and the only person who could have made the servants too scared to open the door to bring food was Cersei!
Tywin's previous actions had swept the issue of slaves in the Westerlands under the rug and delayed the payment of trade debts. Ser Harys had once admired Tywin. Now, he finally understood. Tywin's plan to have his daughter remarry Jaime was merely to use her position for the Lannister's advantage. Tywin had directed his schemes against his own family, resulting in a death. Ser Harys feared that he himself would soon be caught in Tywin's machinations, ending up with no place to be buried.
"Father, let's go home," Dorna no longer wished to stay in Casterly Rock.
"No, for Lancel and the other three children, you must stay here. I'll return to Cornfield tomorrow." Ser Harys wanted to leave as soon as possible. His fief, Cornfield, was near the Red Lake and Goldengroove, and thinking of the message passed on by the Hand of the King, Rowan, Ser Harys felt he could make some contact.
In the long corridor outside the inner chambers, the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, was carrying a package when he passed by Donnel and Cersei, who were speaking.
"Why won't you let me attend the funeral? She was my foster mother, too."
Cersei was adjusting Donnel's collar, her expression calm: "Remember, you only have one mother, and that's me! Shierle Swyft was a worthless woman who tried to steal your mother's position."
Donnel stood still: "Then, according to the customs, if someone who lived with us dies, surely I can bring a bouquet of flowers, can't I?"
"Her burial in the Lannister graveyard was temporary. I will have her bones moved later."
Cersei, gazing at Donnel, who had now grown taller than her, gently touched his face and spoke softly: "Forget about that woman. She doesn't deserve to be remembered."
Donnel nodded helplessly.
"Stop staring! You little dwarf!" Cersei, seeing Tyrion at the end of the corridor, immediately shouted at him.
"Heh, truly the best mother in all of Westeros!" Tyrion said, turning to walk away, leaving only his back to Cersei. He took a left turn, then a right, and entered Tywin's study.
"Father?"
Tywin, who had been checking ledgers at his desk, paused and turned to look at the door: "With a package on your back, where do you plan on traveling to?"
Tyrion walked up to Tywin's desk: "After all that has happened, Father, you still think of traveling? I want to get far away—far from this terrible place!"
Tywin glanced at Tyrion but didn't respond.
"You made the mistake of letting Cersei manage Casterly Rock's internal affairs! While Jaime is away, Cersei dares to let his wife starve to death! If one day you're gone, will I be next?" Until Tyrion returned from Riverrun, he had been responsible for the internal affairs, but after Tywin returned, he handed all the work over to Cersei.
Tywin remained expressionless: "Shierle's death was just an accident!"
"An accident? Is it also an accident that slaves are used in the mines of the Westerlands? An accident that Bracken reported us to the king? An accident that we stole money meant for the king?" Tyrion continued asking.
Tywin still remained expressionless: "This never happened."
"Stealing from ourselves, clearing out rivals, easing the financial situation, and after counting, we've only lost less than 5,000 golden dragons. Truly a wise and mighty father!" Tyrion began to mock him coldly.
Tywin raised one finger: "You know the family's financial situation. We bought a Valyrian steel sword last year, and this year's taxes aren't due yet. If I gave the money to Robert now, it would disrupt the balance of income and expenses. I did this for the family!"
Tyrion became agitated. "What about Jaime? If it weren't for your stubbornness in trying to marry Myrcella—no, trying to marry Seran Farman into the Vale, would Jaime have run off to the Fair Isle? If he hadn't left, none of this would've happened!"
"Jaime didn't have the power to stop any of this!" Tywin fixed his ugly gaze on his younger son. "Do you have contact with him? What's he doing now?"
"Haha, Jaime's doing exactly what you don't want him to do!" Tyrion forced a laugh. "He's with Lord Faman, arranging Seran Farman's betrothal to Robb Stark! The raven will spread the news across the Seven Kingdoms soon."
Tywin's face first contorted with anger, but then suddenly turned calm. Seeing his father's expression, Tyrion had an ominous feeling. "Father, you're not thinking…"
Tywin interrupted, "They're of similar age! Cersei can still bear children."
"An old woman who's already had three children as the Lady of the Vale? If you manage to pull that off, I'll swim from Lannisport to Tyrosh!" Tyrion thought his father was thinking too unrealistically.
Tywin drummed his fingers on the desk, silent. Tyrion, familiar with his father's temperament, knew he was carefully considering something. "Denys Arryn isn't the old lord of the Vale. He's only in his thirties. How many women are queuing up for him to choose from? With Cersei's personality, you should give up on that idea."
Tywin snapped back to attention. "You still haven't answered my question. Where are you going?"
Tyrion's pack was heavy. As he left the study, he deliberately swayed it, the sound of clinking gold ringing out. "I'm going to swim from Lannisport to Tyrosh!"
---
With the Raven's Nest, letters from King's Landing could be relayed through a few cities, and they could reach Meereen in about two weeks.
In the Great Pyramid's study, Daenerys and her four handmaidens were reading under the bookshelf. Wright finished reading several letters from various places, then had the three younger handmaidens help organize the parchment. He sat at the stone desk, preparing to write replies.
The first was about Dorne. The small council wanted him and Prince Doran to argue first.
Wright thought for a moment, then began writing to Prince Doran Martell:
"To Prince Doran Martell: I hereby once again solemnly declare that Quentyn Martell conspired to restore the Targaryen dynasty and has committed treason. He should be executed by hanging. Considering his status, I have ordered his body to be returned to Dorne, with full honors. Furthermore, I express my condolences for the loss of your daughter and son, leaving you without heirs. I have ordered 100 bottles of Might as a gift, which will soon be delivered to Sunspear. May you be blessed with many sons and daughters. – Wright, of House Baratheon."
Wright handed the letter to the three handmaidens. The stone desk was high, so they, being young, had to stand on stools to reach. They playfully laughed and lit the small burner on the desk to melt the red wax.
Daenerys' youngest handmaiden, Missandei, occasionally walked back and forth in front of the desk, holding a tray of fruit one moment, a water jug the next.
Next, Wright wrote a reply to House Yronwood.
He had previously swiftly killed two members of House Yronwood, one of whom was the heir. He only realized after receiving a letter that the man he killed was an heir.
"To Lord Anders Yronwood: Ser Cletus Yronwood and Ser Archibald Yronwood died while guarding Prince Quentyn, faithfully upholding their knightly vows. Their bodies will be returned to Dorne with full honors. I have ordered 20 bottles of Might as a gift, which will soon be delivered to Yronwood. May you be blessed with many sons and daughters. – Wright, of House Baratheon."
After handing over the letter, he moved on to write to the landed knight Wells family.
"Ser Theodan Wells: Ser William Wells died while guarding Prince Quentyn, faithfully upholding his knightly vows. His body will be returned to Dorne with full honors. I have ordered 5 bottles of Might as a gift, which will soon be delivered to your residence. May you be blessed with many sons and daughters. – Wright, of House Baratheon."
Missandei passed by again, this time with a plate of leftover fruit cores.
Wright suddenly looked up at her. "Missandei, how's my letter-writing?"
"Eh?" Missandei stopped, her ten-year-old face full of confusion as she looked at Wright.
Wright pointed at the letters on the desk. "Eh, what do you mean 'eh'? I asked how my letter-writing is."
Everyone in the room looked at Missandei, who froze, mouth open, too afraid to speak.
"Wright, she has no idea what you've written!" Daenerys walked over to intervene, facing Wright, glancing at the letters on the desk.
Wright was a transmigrator! Though his appearance didn't initially match, Daenerys had once called Missandei by name, and since then, Wright had been paying close attention to her. This little black-skinned girl from Naath was proficient in multiple languages and scripts—Dothraki, the Common Tongue, High Valyrian, and various dialects of Valyrian.
Now that Missandei had been sent by Daenerys to sneak a look at his letters, Wright knew his writing had little value, so he deliberately allowed her a glimpse, but she kept walking back and forth, unable to settle down.
Wright, using only a few details he knew, asked, "Missandei, weren't you supposed to be in Astapor, translating for Kraznys mo Nakloz? How did you end up here, serving Daenerys?"
This caught both Daenerys and Missandei off guard. They exchanged a look, realizing that Wright was far more well-informed than they had anticipated, knowing Missandei's past and the secret of her language proficiency.
"It's me who asked her to come," Daenerys interjected, trying to redirect the conversation. "But honestly, your writing isn't impressive. A Lord writing at this level? The Baratheons truly only produce fools!"
Wright chuckled, attempting to shift the focus. "Oh? Then, how would you suggest I write it?" He smiled, curious to see how Daenerys analyzed the situation.
"I'm your captive, and I'm still a Targaryen. Do you want me to advise you?" Daenerys laughed, thinking Wright must have lost his mind.
Wright ignored her, frowning, then turned his gaze back to Missandei, his expression unreadable.
"If I were them, I'd send troops immediately after receiving the letter!" Daenerys seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.
"Do you know Dorne? I still have dragons, and you've seen my own capabilities. Will the Dornish really come after me?" Wright pointed to himself.
Daenerys placed her hands on the desk and stared at him. "If you can't beat them, will you surrender? To protect your homeland, people would rather die than bow to power!"
"But you've forgotten one of Dorne's customs." Wright picked up a piece of paper and began folding it. "After Queen Nymeria crossed the sea, she destroyed all the ships. She then unified Dorne with House Martell, and that tradition has remained. Dornishmen are skilled in land warfare, but the Stepstones are in the sea!"
Daenerys countered, "So, the Dornish won't just sail over?"
Wright folded the paper into a small boat and placed it on the desk. "Now, the only major port in Dorne is Sunspear, and it was only built as a temporary port during the war with the Stepstones. And do you know how long it takes to train a sailor? How long for a sailor to become part of the navy? By the time they're ready, the Stepstones will be fully prepared."
Daenerys started to argue, "The Dornish will scatter and hire assassins, targeting your family, everyone around you for revenge! You're a mage, but are your people too? If one assassination fails, there's always another. If not this year, maybe in ten years! Endless retaliation. Eventually, your people will break. They'll either leave you, or turn on you, wanting to end the killing by taking your life!"
Daenerys was drawing from the history of the Targaryen kings. Aegon the Conqueror had fought a prolonged war with Dorne. He himself had been assassinated in King's Landing by Dornishmen, leading to the creation of the Kingsguard. Other nobles who led campaigns against Dorne had also been attacked. After years of this, many of the nobles grew weary and resentful.
Then, there was King Maegor, the third Targaryen king, who rode the Black Dread Balerion. His military command and combat skills were unmatched. The wars he led were nearly all victorious, and with a single command, he could send a head rolling. Yet, in the end, he was betrayed by his own and died alone on the Iron Throne, later given the title of Maegor the Cruel, his name forever reviled.
Wright looked her in the eyes. "Good, you have a point. But all of this is based on having sufficient cause. You say the assassinated side grows weary, but so do the ones doing the assassinations. I ask you, what's the reason that will sustain their revenge for more than ten years?"
Daenerys quickly responded, "You killed the Yronwood and Dorne's heir. The honor of House Yronwood and all of Dorne has been insulted!"
Wright smiled slightly. "That reason doesn't hold up! House Yronwood still has branches, and Dorne still has heirs!"
Daenerys thought for a moment, then suddenly pointed at Wright. "You!?"
Wright didn't answer her. Instead, he pulled out two letters from Dorne and handed them to Daenerys.
"I know this reason doesn't hold up, and the Dornish know it too! They know there are no ships and no navy! Dorne isn't under the king's jurisdiction, they can bypass the king and declare war on the Stepstones directly, but look at these letters, did they declare war? No. They wave their banners and shout, asking me to go to Sunspear to apologize. So, I replied, saying I acted in self-defense and told them to raise another heir. What do you think this is?"
Daenerys looked at the two letters from Dorne in her hands, then glared at Wright, annoyed. "Is this just a petty quarrel?"
"You could see it that way! They're fighting for the appearance of righteousness, aiming to gain more allies to pressure the king. Right now, the only one who can control me is Robert."
Wright now understood that Daenerys had received a proper education. Her trajectory had changed dramatically, and the person responsible for this change was the elusive Aegon and his faction. In Wright's mind, he now placed Aegon ahead of Daenerys.
Suddenly, Daenerys leaned forward, scrutinizing Wright's face. "I've studied the history of House Baratheon—big beards, fond of strong drinks, warriors, some even illiterate. Wright, your way of doing things doesn't seem like a Baratheon at all. Were you adopted?"
"You have quite the mind!" Wright thought, wondering if she had some sort of perception of otherworldly travelers or children of different dimensions. He remained composed and handed her another letter.
"He wants to meet me in King's Landing. Who is this Maester Aemon?" Daenerys couldn't recall such a person.
"He's the Aemon Targaryen I mentioned before." This letter was sent by Wright, the Spider.
Wright speculated that Robert's letter had instructed him to bring Daenerys to King's Landing. Wright wanted to protect Daenerys's life and, believing this wasn't secure enough, he turned to Maester Aemon, who had returned to King's Landing, to pass on some information, mixing in a few rumors and adding another card to play.
"He's still alive at that age?" Daenerys laughed joyfully.
"He's over a hundred years old, so he probably won't last much longer."
Wright formed a small ice cube in his hand, flicked it, and sent it flying into her collar.
"Ah!" The sudden cold made Daenerys jump.
"I'm giving you some very sincere advice. Stop laughing. Your eyebrows are about to fly off your face!"
Non-confidential letters served as a good test for reactions, and from that moment on, Missandei never dared to wander aimlessly in front of Wright again. The others from Volantis also started to be more cautious around her.
---
The armies from the surrounding cities were marching toward Meereen, some by boat along the waterway, others by land. Compared to the "shadow of war" hanging over Dorne, the war in Meereen was unavoidable.
One quiet night in Meereen, Wright woke Daenerys in the middle of the night and took her to the terrace atop the Great Pyramid.
"Why aren't you sleeping at this hour? Why bring me here?" In arid regions, the temperature difference between day and night was extreme, and the night was cold. Daenerys tightened her cloak, looking worriedly at Wright, who was holding a large sword.
Wright ignored her for a moment, climbing to the top of the pyramid and carving the words: "Wright Baratheon was here!"
The top of the pyramid was adorned with golden plating, and several torches on the terrace illuminated it with a golden glow, making Wright's figure visible throughout the city of Meereen.
Daenerys couldn't see the inscription clearly from her position and, frustrated at being woken in the middle of the night, mockingly asked, "Done with your performance? Is that it?"
Wright descended to the terrace and walked to the railing. "Come take a look. If your husband wants to be king, he will go through the same thing today."
Daenerys walked to the railing and looked out at the dark city of Meereen, where only a few torches lit the streets, and nothing seemed to be happening.
After a while, as she was about to question Wright, she saw some torches in the city starting to light up, and the glow began to spread.
Soon, the screams of men and women echoed, their voices carrying across the quiet night, reaching half the city.
"Assassins?" Daenerys muttered, leaning against the railing.
After the noise, the targets were already alert, and the assassins no longer attempted stealth but switched to open attacks. Cries of battle filled the streets as more torches were lit.
Next, the slave soldiers, under the command of the slave masters, appeared in neat formations on the streets, heading toward the small pyramid where the assassins had not yet succeeded. The assassination had turned into a massacre, indiscriminately killing men, women, and children alike.
Daenerys turned to Wright, her voice trembling, "Did you have everyone loyal to my husband killed?"
"Your husband wants to be king, and he'll do the same—eliminate those who don't support him." Wright walked to one side of the terrace.
Hearing the cries of the dying, Daenerys felt a pang of guilt. "The women and children are innocent!"
"How many people have died so far? You and your nephew want to restore the Targaryen dynasty—think about how many people will die on the Westerlands!" Wright leaned forward, placing one hand on the ground and injecting magic into the circle below.
A circular magic formation appeared on the terrace floor, intricate patterns forming a pentagram in the center. Five small circles, one at each point of the star, glowed with different colored magical lights representing: destruction, alteration, restoration, conjuring, and illusion—red, pure white, yellow, blue, and purple.
Daenerys felt something was off. "What are you doing?"
Berricio Stangoni and a dozen soldiers rushed onto the terrace, raising shields to block the door.
Wright walked up to Daenerys, grabbed her by the neck with one hand, and lifted her off the ground as if she were a child.
"Ah! What are you doing? The king ordered you to bring me back to King's Landing, you can't kill me!" Daenerys, in a moment of clarity, remembered this fact.
Wright ignored her and placed her in the center of the magic formation. The intricate lines of the spell quickly crawled up her body, paralyzing her and leaving her unable to move except for her mouth.
He lifted his giant sword, aiming at the scar on her abdomen. After a moment's hesitation, he shifted the point of the blade upward, aiming for her chest.
"Ahh!!"
The sword tip slowly pierced her skin. The intense pain made Daenerys scream loudly. Wright turned to look at Berricio, who was standing guard. This was the first time Berricio had witnessed such dazzling magic, and while surprised, he nodded to Wright.
What a fool! Acting like a weirdo trying to kill someone! Wright cursed inwardly.
Robert's letter had instructed him to bring Daenerys to King's Landing, but after waiting for a while without seeing her dragons, Wright had grown impatient. The magic formation didn't have any harmful effects; it was a modified version of the Tyrosh Lighthouse's magic array, designed to detect the five magic elements. By wounding Daenerys, Wright wanted to see if it could uncover any magical connection between her and the dragons.
Wright himself had a unique perception of magical energy. When Odahviing became emotionally agitated, he could sense his presence in a general direction, more precisely the closer he was.
For Renly and his little dragon, despite opening his senses wide, Wright found no trace. He had even asked Renly about it, and Renly claimed he couldn't sense the dragon's magic at all. However, it seemed the dragon could feel his emotions—cheerful when Renly was happy, but irritable when he was depressed.
The advancement of magic comes through learning and accumulation, and practice reveals the truth. Today, Daenerys would be the test subject, to see if the new magic formation worked.
"Push in a little more!"
The sword tip entered her ribs. The illusion function of the magic formation allowed the victim to remain conscious while amplifying their pain and fear. Wright had tested it on himself earlier; it magnified pain and fear by nearly ten times.
Daenerys's body started to convulse in agony, her mouth unable to produce sound. Within moments, she fell unconscious.
The magic formation gave no reaction. It failed.
Wright pulled out his sword and cast a healing spell on Daenerys, deactivating the magic formation.
Berricio walked over, looking at Daenerys, who was lying on the ground seemingly unharmed. Confused, he asked, "Lord Wright, aren't you going to kill her?"
He raised his right hand and made a downward chopping motion.
"This was just a magical probe to check her magical energy, it's already done, and we don't need her life." Wright made up an excuse, not wanting to admit failure in front of his subordinates.
"Ah, I see. Magic is truly amazing," Berricio said, half-understanding.
Wright replied, "You take your men to assist with guarding the entrance to the Pyramid. I won't be involved in the fighting today; this is an internal matter for Meereen."
"Understood!" Berricio ordered the soldiers to lower their defenses and led them into the pyramid.
A few days ago, during a gathering of the sons of the Harpies, Wright had removed his mask and revealed his identity. The battle outside Meereen against the Dothraki had shown them Wright's strength. With his identity revealed and a promise that he would deal with any dragons that dared to enter Meereen, those who had been undecided had now firmly supported the assassination plan. Wright's climb to the top of the Great Pyramid signaled the start of the operation.
Inside the city, some of the pyramids still faced sporadic resistance. Daenerys, who had slowly regained consciousness, stood up and touched her chest. Her skin was smooth, and there wasn't a single mark. But recalling the excruciating pain from earlier, it seemed as if the pain was returning.
"What did you do to me?" Daenerys pointed at Wright, her voice full of fury.
Wright didn't hide the truth. "I checked the magical connection between you and the dragons!"
Daenerys clutched her unmarked chest, her voice rising. "Dragons? If you think you can find my dragons, dream on. When they grow up, they'll come for you and burn you alive with dragonfire!"
"Watch your tone, captive lady!"
Wright picked up his giant sword and walked into the pyramid, contemplating how to further improve the magic formation.
The magical connection between these people and dragon riders was far beyond Wright's current knowledge. Many powerful mages had failed to comprehend it. To investigate, he would need to proceed step by step, with the possibility of eventually understanding it.
When Daenerys was injured, the black dragon named Drogon, which she had named in honor of an ancestor, far away at that moment, was suddenly awakened from sleep by a magical connection.
Two black dragons, each the size of a horse, were curled up inside a large iron cage, covered with a black canvas. The cage was being transported by a cart driven by the Golden Company. Not far behind, another cart, carrying another large iron cage, contained another dragon—Viserion, with ivory-colored scales and golden patterns.
The black dragon began to slam its body against the cage, trying to escape. Normally, the two dragons would occasionally bang against it, but the Golden Company soldiers didn't pay it much attention. However, this time the black dragon's slamming didn't stop, and it continuously roared and howled.
The horses pulling the cart in front were so frightened that they could barely stand, and the cart had to stop. The nearby cavalry horses were also spooked and scattered.
"Quick, put blinders on the horses!" The Golden Company cavalry around the cart was in chaos.
The large iron cage had been specially crafted at great expense by the Golden Company, with bars as thick as a child's arm. When the black dragon couldn't break through, it started breathing fire. The dragonfire quickly ignited the cart, but the cage showed no signs of giving way. Unaffected, the black dragon continued to spray fire. The flames spread outward from the cart, burning it, killing the horses, and taking the lives of several soldiers who couldn't retreat in time.
The other dragon sensed the black dragon's frenzy and became agitated as well.
Seeing that the two dragons were on the verge of losing control, Captain Harry Strickland shouted, "Quick, feed them cooked meat, and make sure to sprinkle it with Might!"
Several cooked legs of lamb, prepared earlier, were dragged from another cart. Some cooks opened jars of "Big Power" and poured the liquid over the meat.
The two dragons' dragonfire wasn't strong enough to melt steel, and after a short while, they calmed down. The pieces of meat, soaked in the Might, were thrown into the dragons' mouths. After eating, the dragons seemed to calm down, with the Golden Company soldiers believing they had returned to their senses.
The effects of Might had been discovered by the captain of the Golden Company by accident. Once, while bragging to his men, he opened a bottle, and the two dragons, dragging their chains, approached and quickly drank the contents when they smelled it.
The potion had a stimulating effect on humans, improving blood circulation and vitality. For dragons, it likely promoted growth. It was rumored that Might was a magical alchemical creation, and after the dragons consumed it, they seemed to be in much better spirits.