Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and all rights for characters, plots and settings belong to G.R.R. Martin and FromSoftware. I have no ownership.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"If your enemy is secure at all points, be prepared for him. If he is in superior strength, evade him. If your opponent is temperamental, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant. If he is taking his ease, give him no rest. If his forces are united, separate them. If sovereign and subject are in accord, put division between them. Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected ."
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no fear; there is power.
I am the Heart of the Force.
I am the revealing fire of Light.
I am the mystery of Darkness
In balance with Chaos and Harmony,
Immortal in the Force
Je'daii Order Code
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Narrow Sea, Myr
Year 298 AC (After Aegon Conquest)
Raevan
He immediately sensed the presence of two Force users in the city; there was no way they could hide from him now that he knew what to look for. Moreover, only one of them possessed the Force power to call himself a Sith.
This didn't mean, of course, that he didn't have a lot of knowledge or skills, but against Raevan, who had both in spades, not to mention his extraordinary bond with Force, it was completely insufficient.
He knew that conquering Myr without his skills wouldn't be as easy as Pentos, whose military and naval forces were weakened by the treaty imposed on them by Braavos.
Myr had over a hundred warships, probably half of which were still in the waters near the city. The same applied to its soldiers, for Myr had a small but dedicated military force, particularly its famed crossbowmen.
Not to mention the various sellswords companies gathering in the city, for from what he had gathered, the city would become the main gathering point for the forces the Essosi planned to use to invade Westeros.
Although the Golden Company, the Unsullied, or any of the Ghiscar Iron Legions were not present, the mercenary forces gathered from across western Essos numbered more than 35,000 soldiers. Sixty-eight mercenary companies of various sizes.
All of these were elite soldiers, far more battle-hardened than the feudal levies in the Seven Kingdoms, or even knights who hadn't participated in any wars or even skirmishes in 15 years.
The mercenaries, on the other hand, were constantly fighting either the Dothraki or each other, depending on who hired them and why. They were mostly battle-hardened veterans, and even the newest members had some combat experience.
The Sith's machinations were a given, but nothing motivated those in power more than the possibility of losing their wealth and influence. The Myrmen were a prime example of this phenomenon.
Raevan watched the fog he had created slowly enveloping the city in the distance. Although, like Pentos, Myr lacked a walled port, it was clear that it was much better prepared for a potential attack.
Every roof and every alleyway of the harbor was equipped to defend the waterfront with mercenaries and their famed Myrish crossbowmen.
Turning on his heel, he went to his cabin, where the captain would normally reside. As soon as he closed the door, he reached out with the Force and said, "Arise."
A moment later, shapeless apparitions began to materialize around him, vaguely resembling humans, but no one else would be able to recognize that they had once been humans. Now they were atoning, serving his will, and now their first task awaited them.
He took a map of Myr from the table, exceptionally detailed, spreading it wide and pointing with his finger at the locations marked on it with a red circle.
"These are the sixty-three residences of the most important magisters and other influential figures in the city. Your task is to kill their owners, their wives, and their children. Their deaths are to be swift. Spare the servants and slaves."
Without a word, the apparitions vanished into thin air, moving to fulfill his will. Meanwhile, he was left alone with his thoughts and the gnawing doubts.
The order to kill the children as well may have been cruel, but it spared the lives of those who might have been involved in potential conflicts that might have erupted due to one of their own thirst for revenge.
The decision to spare the magisters' children in Pentos proved a mistake, as during his short stay there, three attempts were made to inform Myr and Tyrosh by letter of the city's fall.
All three were carried out by spared magisters' children, acting out of revenge. The youngest boy was perhaps a year older than Daeron and Visenya.
This only reinforced his belief that sentimentality had no place in war. He had shown mercy once, and when his open hand of mercy was rejected, it was time for the sword and axe.
He wanted everyone to live happily ever after, but life was completely different. Diseases, plagues, floods, and droughts, and, if not, unnaturally harsh winters lasting for years, claimed countless human lives.
The same was true of wars. The longer they dragged on, the greater the cost to those at the bottom. The only hope for limiting losses in both human life and resources was a swift war, destroying the enemy before they could react.
In a galactic-scale war, this was nearly impossible to achieve, but here, despite his reduced mobility, he felt it was possible. The only problem was Those Who Dwell in Shadows, or simply the Sith, though he had to admit they had little in common with those he had previously encountered.
"Damn. If I had been given a few more years, this war would have been decided long ago, not only thanks to his military and technological plans but even to his personal Force. He had dozens of Force abilities he wanted to refine or master.
For there were Force abilities capable of turning the tide not only of battle but also of war. The one he planned to use during the assault on Myr, for example.
Battle Meditation was his wife's specialty, and the Jedi believed it was necessary to be born with this ability, but as in many other matters, they were shortsighted fools with blinders on.
There was no ability that couldn't be mastered if one possessed the proper understanding of the Force, and he possessed not only that but also a deep bond that had connected him to It since birth, only strengthened later by everything he had encountered.
Raevan was certain that nothing had helped him understand the subtle nuances of the Force, like the separation of his soul into two, which he had experienced, only to later unite with it. tion.
His knowledge and experience were constantly returning to him, but his understanding of the Force and his abilities were more powerful than ever. The very control over it seemed as instinctive as breathing.
He had especially noticed the difference in recent weeks, when he had used it, and it filled him practically constantly.
Well, it was probably time to attract the attention of these two Sith; they had better not destroy his Force Wraith, though he wasn't sure they could. It wasn't an ability known to many Force users, even those of the Dark Side.
He left his cabin and turned the bow of the ship, looking at the over thirty enemy ships lined up along the shore, which had begun to form a defensive formation.
Apparently, they had either spotted them despite the fog, or the Sith must have sensed that it had been created with the Force. If everything went according to plan, he wanted to capture as many enemy ships as possible, but now it was too late. He was more concerned with the survival of his men.
The distance between the two fleets wasn't great, at the moment being only 600 meters. About four hundred meters and shrinking all the time, his ships would soon be within range of the scorpions on the enemy ships' decks, which, positioned broadside, could fire unimpeded.
Seeing the hesitation in the eyes of the Aurane commanding the ship, he ordered, "Don't slow down or turn. Let the ships fire the scorpions on their bows."
Then, with a small smile, he added, "I can't refuse the invitation when their fleet is in such a tight formation. "Now, take a good look, my friend, at who you have on your side."
With those words, he effortlessly jumped onto the protruding figurehead and held his hands out in front of his chest, palms facing him and fingers pointing upwards as if in prayer, leaving a small space between them.
Taking a deep breath, he reached first for the Dark Side, as Force Destruction was a Dark Side ability. Black energy, like a miasma, began to form between his hands.
A moment later, he began to forcibly join it with the Light Side, and since in their pure forms they disliked working together, both reacted rather violently.
Both were practically boiling in his hands as he tried to blend them. Completely focused, he persisted in his efforts, knowing that the slightest mistake would destroy not only his ship and many others around him but could even seriously injure or kill him.
After a few, endless seconds, he saw with relief the two energies finally beginning to blend. transforming into a ball of dark purple energy that vibrated in his hand from the accumulated Force.
"It worked." Glancing at the captain, who was watching him with fear in his eyes, he added, "Aurane, do you see this? This is Unlimited Power."
With these words, his eyes turned to the Myr fleet guarding the harbor, and he opened his hands outward.
The world around him froze for a brief moment, as if waiting impatiently for what would happen, and then a small ball of purple energy exploded towards the city.
A wall of pure, purple-tinted energy surged toward the ships ahead, now no more than two hundred meters away, absorbing the first incoming Scorpion projectiles and expanding with each meter they traversed.
As it struck the enemy ships over four hundred meters wide, the sailors and soldiers on them were unable to even scream as they vanished along with the ships themselves.
A wave of destructive force then struck the coast, disintegrating the harbor buildings and all those inside and on the streets. The only consolation was that death was instantaneous.
The central portion of the coast and harbor area of the city simply vanished, leaving only a smoothly cut semicircle.
Of the defending ships themselves, only six or seven, located on the outskirts of the formation, remained, but the same could not be said for their crews, whose bodies, surrounded by such a mass of pure Force, were severely affected.
The same was true of the inhabitants and defenders of the city, where the Force of Destruction had not reached.
Raevan clenched his jaw tightly as he heard the cries of the dying in the Force. The ports of the Free Cities were among the most populated parts of the city, and with this single attack, he had probably killed 20,000-30,000 people.
It was nothing compared to what he had committed in the past, but still... he felt regret, a regret that a moment later was once again tempered by hard pragmatism.
These people had simply been unlucky enough to find themselves on the other side of the conflict, but Raevan had one principle. He always placed the lives of his own people above the lives of the enemy. If it meant forcing the Myrians to surrender their city, he took it blindly.
He jumped from the figurehead onto the deck of the ship, where Aurane, the sailors, and soldiers watched him with a mixture of fear and admiration. Many even fell to their knees, whispering prayers to their gods.
He activated his passive Battle Meditation, which reached not only this ship but the other ones as well. While the earlier attack had taken its toll, it was nothing he couldn't handle.
"My brave warriors, I told you the gods were on our side, and as their champion, I shattered the Myrish fleet with their holy wrath!" he shouted, his Force-enhanced voice echoing through all the ships.
"Under their leadership, nothing will stop us, and in the morning we will drink ale in the city we have already captured! Fire and Blood!"
The fervor and courage, reinforced by Battle Meditation, caused shouts to echo across the bay, louder than they had any right to.
"FIRE AND BLOOD!"
"CONQUEROR REBORN!"
"RAEVAN!"
"RAEVAN!"
"RAEVAN!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Free City of Myr
Year 298 AC (After Aegon Conquest)
Daario Naharis
They had known for many moons that something was in the air, and dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, though none of them could have predicted where it was all leading.
When Nyreo, the representative from Myr, arrived to hire them, Daario and the others were certain that this was simply another local war between Myr and Tyrosh and Lys over the Disputed Lands. Something that had already become a tradition among sellswords who were waiting for new contracts.
When they arrived in Myr, everything seemed to go on as usual, even as one company after another joined them, bringing various disturbing news, such as the formation of a massive slave army in Volantis and the gathering of the Dothraki under a new single Khal.
He was certain that something was wrong only when news reached them from Westeros about what had happened during the tourney at King's Landing and the declaration of war by Prince Raevan Targaryen, who turned out to be either a sorcerer or chosen by the gods, but the truth was distorted by the distorted news.
Daario already felt they had made a mistake in accepting this assignment and would have preferred to leave Myr, but his two co-captains did not see it that way, lured by the promise of riches and even lands of their own in the conquered territories of the Seven Kingdoms.
He knew it couldn't be that simple, for not only were the armies of Westeros huge and the territories vast, but his greatest concern was the sorcerer himself.
Fighting flesh-and-blood humans was one thing, as he knew how to defend himself against a spear or arrow, but magic and sorcerers were a completely different matter. Something he hadn't signed up for, because, after all, a mercenary's goal, besides enriching himself, was survival.
He'd been feeling uneasy for the past few days, but he wasn't the only one, for he'd noticed the nervous glances, the uncertain laughter, and the generally gloomier atmosphere. News had reached them, which their employers had even tried to suppress. There had been a failed assassination attempt on the prince, but Queen Lyanna had perished. The Faceless Men and Sorrowful Men who carried it out hadn't left the capital alive.
And according to Bueno, the merchant who brought them alcohol to the camp, the prince's fury was so terrible that the air in King's Landing vibrated with it.
This and the calm before the storm hanging in the air were having an extremely negative effect on his nerves, which is why he sought solace between the legs of the courtesans, something he did very rarely.
That evening, he was returning from the Swirling Wave, one of the city's better brothels, when he was surprised by a thick fog that began to pour into the city streets, completely blocking any view beyond a few meters. Knowing that traveling in such conditions was risky, he stopped at the steps of one of the dozens of temples that filled the city.
Despite the initial bustle of the city, which was as lively in the evenings as during the day, silence fell under the influence of this thick, almost unnatural fog. At one point, Daario was convinced he heard shouts from the harbor, but he was too far away, roughly halfway across the city, and Myr was vast, housing nearly half a million people.
He felt he would soon be able to head back to camp, as the fog was slowly thinning. But just then, a deafening roar struck his ears, followed by a boom and a jolt so loud that Daario fell to the ground, completely losing his balance.
He clutched his head, feeling a searing pain inside his head, and his ears were ringing constantly. He leaned on his hands, vomiting up all his last meal and the alcohol. He felt as if he'd been trampled by a herd of elephants.
Slowly recovering, he began to rise to his feet, taking in what was happening around him. There was no trace of the fog, so the first thing he saw was numerous other passersby and townspeople in similar or even worse shape than himself. Several children at the citrus vendor's stall were completely still.
From all sides he could hear the screams of terrified people and the cries and moans of pain of those who had suffered, but strangely enough, from the direction of the port, or at least its central part, to which he was closest, at that moment nothing could be heard, as if no one was left alive there.
Despite all his instincts, he pulled out his decorated dagger from his breast pocket and set off towards the port, and the closer he got to it, the fewer living, though wounded, people he encountered, and more corpses.
He didn't know what else was responsible for all this, but it couldn't be anything natural. Deep down, however, he knew the answer. There was one person they called the sorcerer, and he would probably very much like to see this city in ruins.
He expected to see the port part of the city in an even worse state, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
He stopped at the edge of a huge, semicircular crater that cut hundreds of meters into the depths of Myr, and he could have dismissed it as some kind of natural disaster, as he had heard stories of shooting stars that could cause enormous destruction, like the one on the western border of Red Waste, if it weren't for the fleet docking on both sides of the crater and the soldiers pouring out of them into the harbor.
Even from this distance, he could see the Targaryen red dragon, the Seahorse of the Valaryons, and even Braavos. As he feared, the Seven Kingdoms hadn't waited for the attack but had struck ahead, and what had happened must have been the result of Prince Raevan's magical powers.
Daario, however, would never have imagined that a human was capable of destruction on such a scale, believing it was something reserved only for gods or forces of nature.
Most of the soldiers and people in the harbor were dead, near death, or wounded and weakened beyond resistance. Daario watched in horror as the Targaryen soldiers pushed deeper into the city. Only then did he recover from the shock and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
He had to return to their camp as quickly as possible, not to prepare his men for battle, but rather to ensure they could escape in time. He knew with absolute certainty that if they remained, there would be no hope for them.
However, weakened by the earlier attack, he was far from his physical peak, and the soldiers rushing into the city seemed like a raging wave that nothing could stop. They spared ordinary citizens and slaves, but any soldier, mercenary, or guard who resisted ended up dead.
Reinforcements were approaching from the direction he was fleeing, both city guards and mercenaries, who had likely been ordered to defend the city, unaware of the suicidal task they were undertaking. Just ahead, he encountered a Bloody Claw mercenary unit, led by Caspar Half-Ear, a Tyroshi with whom he had shared a few drinks in recent weeks.
"Daario! What the hell is going on?! And where is the enemy?!" Caspar shouted, but Daario had no intention of stopping for a moment; he just wanted to give them a quick warning to run, but before he could say anything, he felt a stab of pain in his neck, and the world suddenly began to spin around him. The last thing he saw, however, was his headless body falling to the ground.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Asshai by the Shadow
Year 298 AC (After Aegon Conquest)
The first of the Dark Lords
He opened his sickly yellow eyes, a sign of his deep immersion in the Dark Side of the Force, but for the first time in a long time, something more than the constant cunning and imprisoned anger emerged.
He sensed a powerful tremor rippling through the Force, and a sweet cry of suffering, death, and pain filled his senses. Many had been slain today by the Force.
However, as sweet and arousing as the thought was, it carried unwelcome implications. None of his students would be capable of such a feat using the Force, which he could sense from thousands of miles away.
He himself would likely be capable of it, but with the proper preparation and the aid of Sith Alchemy.
This raised further questions in his mind and caused immense irritation. Either their enemy was more powerful than he was in the Force, or he also possessed sufficiently profound knowledge of Sith Alchemy.
Neither option was pleasant and required a corresponding adjustment to their plans. He reached out to his most distinguished student, a key piece in his puzzle.
'Master, how may I be of service to you? 'Xardas's thoughts reached him.
'Accelerate our plans in Yi-Ti as quickly as possible. Shang Tsung and Vortigern will join you. I want Yin at my feet in two moons.'
'Forgive my impertinence, Master, but why...?' came the confused question from his loyal student. 'Why risk millennia of planning by rushing? The Empire may be as weak as ever, but that doesn't mean this will be an easy task.'
His own irritation must have seeped into their telepathic conversation, for he sensed a growing fear from his student, and he quickly brought it under control.
'A dangerous enemy has appeared in the west. The likes of which we have never faced in our seven thousand years on this planet. It's time to put all our plans into motion. This fool who dared to oppose us will feel my fury.'