Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

Chapter 179: The Legacy of Love (II)

Continuous POV Duncan

Great reception hall of the Never Winter Bank.

Seconds after a mental battle was fought...

-----

I was mentally challenged. I had to use a good portion of Lay of Hands to recover. Casting Lesser Restoration wasn't that useful. I definitely had an exhausted malus. I needed good Sleep or Greater Restoration for a full recovery.

For the 314th time, Zick had kicked my ass... but at least I had managed to last nine seconds longer than in the 313th duel.

The Old Man hadn't held back, slaughtering me on almost every front. Although I possessed a higher raw will than The Watcher, that inhuman individual possessed unparalleled control and mastery. It was like a military cadet, armed with a machine gun and bazooka, being stoned to death by a stone-throwing Grandmaster...

The mental technique taught to me by Zick was a modified branch of legilimancy/occlumancy, a very similar mental art, created by his own hand and remodelled to suit the needs of a Non-Incantor.

An art that Zick practised every day for pure enjoyment. It was his only means of dealing with every possible opponent in his imagination.

The Watcher was a genius without equal in martial art.

In the Real World, Chai Duq was recognised as the undisputed 'King among Mages'. But, had Zick not been cursed by his debilitating physical limitations, he would undoubtedly be recognised from every corner of the globe as 'King among Warriors'.

"No complaints about creativity and initiative, but you still lack stability and stamina. Your flow, however commendably unpredictable, must not result in Chaos... Even the most impervious storms follow their own harmony. Focus more on finding and navigating your own, Duncan."

With every defeat, there always followed a lesson to be learned.

"I will, master... Thank you for the lesson." I replied.

"And...? You forget something, I think." The hypocritical old butcher wanted his pound of flesh...

"I lost. 'I admit my defeat', oh my 'Loving Master'. [Glory and Praise to thee, Zick, that of the best master-at-arms, there is none to be seen.] ...Satisfied now?"

"Ha ha! More than satisfied! Take care, lad, and keep pursuing the path of poetry. I expect a new and original sonnet at your next defeat...! Talk about rewards! On the last moon, we upped the ante. So, as agreed, you owe me a secret... And, this time, you won't get away with your cheap tricks. I want some juicy information. Something to keep me up all night." Zick demanded his second tribute.

"Mmm... I wouldn't know what to choose, Master. I could even get you a couple of cardiac arrests if you wanted... Any particular request?" So many times, Zick could have investigated my true nature. So many truths could have been extracted from me by force. But never once, in seven long years, did The Watcher ask anything about my... 'past'.

"Well, well... Indeed there is. But let's stick to the subject of 'Legacy'." For a few moments, I looked at the mischievous foxy grin of that naive fake old man and nodded. "Ask away, Master. If it is my chance, I will clarify your doubts."

"Even if you do not wish to take over my inheritance, you will still be obliged to do so one day. You cannot break the covenant you chose to accept, nor is it any longer my option, except in the event of your 'untimely death', to designate a new heir. Sooner or later, Duncan, whether you still want it or not, you will be the next Guardian of Love... So why do you have that victorious slapdash air of someone who has found a shortcut?" Before I answered, I made sure Zick was serious... He really was! I burst out laughing.

"Ahahahaha! But how? Has no one told you that yet? Not even the Kindly Man, Lo Tho or the Green King? Sprrzz... Puhahahah! You're the best, Master! Ahahah! I can hardly believe you really don't know!" Zick was astonished for a moment, then the frail, weak man grabbed me by the lapels of his doublet and demanded, tugging at me, "Know what? What do you know that I don't know?! Spit it out, you wretch!"

"Pff... Yes! Yes! I'll tell you. I'll tell you." The Watcher loosened his grip, waiting impatiently for the answer.

"Well, technically, it is true that the still extinguished torch of Love has passed to me. And that I, should the current Watcher perish or abdicate of his own free will, would be forced to fill that role... But no one forbids me from appointing a successor in my turn. My Heir'." I anticipated.

"But...! Only a Guardian in charge can designate an Heir...!" Zick turned to his first assistant, bodyguard and trusted advisor... Ramas shook his head, implicitly replying, "Both Duncan and the noble Duq have the right to nominate an Heir-Designate in their turn and, eventually, choose to pass their office directly to said chosen one, should both parties agree and the Heir possesses the necessary age of majority for the nomination..." Ramas added, "You never asked me, Master... I thought you knew."

"... Oh, dear me. Zishua will escort me alive..." Then Zick turned to me again with an accusing index finger pointing. "And you, you devious mad-double-crosser, have you chosen anyone yet! Who?"

"No one!... 'Yet'... I have two or three possible candidates in mind, but it will still take time. So you'll still have to hold out for a few more years, Master, and make sure you eat more vegetables and keep fit." The joke was not received in the spirit I had expected.

The playful and jovial Guardian of Love now demanded seriousness...

"...I cannot take on that role, Master. Only the integration of Free Folk will take years, and most of my attention will always be on these lands. I have sown my own wind in the North and throughout Westeros. Soon, a storm, ready to strike the First Men, will be reaped. At the very least, I must stay until the end to face the consequences of my actions... " Then I continued ", my possible candidate is filled with untapped potential. And you will guide him towards that possible path."

Zick asked, "So, will this 'possible' candidate be part of my small rewards circle?" The agreement sealed by my Uncle Leobald with the Spider Queen stipulated that I could choose half from among those twenty-six impending future disciples of The Watcher.

"Of course. He or she will have the best teacher in the world at his or her side. The best guide. But, in each, the choice to take that path will be in their hands. " The Watcher provided a glimmer of a smile.

"As it is your right and duty to choose your path, Duncan... If that is the decision of the Heir, the Watcher of Love will support it."

Abnormal movements of Mormont guards at the entrance distracted our attention... Something was happening outside the Great Hall. After a brief report from a captain, the New Lord of Barrow Hall, Jorah Mormont, walked swiftly towards the exit, escorted by six armigers.

"What is it, Master?" I asked Hawkeye.

"It seems that two knights belonging to House Oakheart and Yronwood could not wait for tomorrow's Great Melee. A duel has just taken place, and blood has been spilt." Zick explained, reading the whispered lips to Lady Barbrey's ears.

Duels to first or last blood were forbidden within the Silk Road. The winner, barring a royal pardon, would be locked up inside the cells of the Ice Prison.

''I see... The situation will be more chaotic than I imagined. So many things can go wrong tomorrow. Barbrey has already foiled several attempts at bribery and actions under coercive blackmail... Several tournament controllers would have to exchange blunt weapons for partially sharpened blades at last, and many minor knights-errant were hired to hinder 'every' Green Knight in contention as much as possible. But, on the other hand, the main principals have covered their tracks fairly well." I explained, pointing to possible principals other than Oldtown and Braavos...

"Chai is sensibly angry with you, my boy, but he is still one of the few individuals in this world who keeps his word to the end. Ser Tristan, Ser Braitwur, and Ser Ghuruklak will compete only to oppose Ser Jon Cupps, not to generate Chaos... That will come later should you fail to keep your agreement with the Lord of Carcosa. Make sure you 'properly' repay your debt to The King in The Yellow, and there will be no trouble." I was not entirely reassured and asked, " I have treasures aplenty to repay and deal with the Sorcerer, Master... But do you really need three Arcane Shields to stop a single member of the Seven Keepers?"

"No. Not for everyone, and only in this particular case. We're talking about the Lord Commander of the Seven Keepers, the cream of my former Oldtown disciples... Ser Jon, in particular, prefers group fights in the open, and the Arcane Knights are somewhat limited without their magic. The Lord Commander of the Arcane Shields is equally fearsome in his chosen field.

In my opinion, Tristan would prevail six times out of ten in a real one-on-one fight against Jon. But in a mere tournament, constrained by playful rules of chivalry, with no armour or magic, Jon would tear Tristan apart in less than three minutes." Explained Zick.

"If Oldtown and Carcosa can show off their weapons, the North must also have an equal chance... You know who I want." The Guardian of Love peered at me for a few moments and then nodded, snorting:

"Always sticking to the habit of 'pulling opportunities out of crises', I notice."

"Opportunities are flowers that bloom and thrive from mounds of slime and dung, my wise master," I grunted.

"Phew... You shall have the sword you seek. But be aware that, with this manoeuvre, you will launch a third huge hornet's nest directly into the halls of the Andalusian High Council... Lord Leyton has already asked me to arrange a private negotiation meeting between you and him. House Hightower wants to negotiate terms of 'cohabitation' with House Tallhart." I expected a similar proposal.

"House Hightower demands the meeting, not 'the Andalus High Council'... Even if we tightened regulations and binding promises, Lord Leyton would hold only a little over a third of the decision-making power in Oldtown. The High Priests and Grand Archmasters would easily find various paths to circumvent bonds of noble promises."

"Nevertheless, there always remains a third that counts sensibly among the council. You may despise the history and actions of House Hightower. Still, that man remains one of the individuals who, over the past thirty years, has fought strenuously to maintain as much peace and stability as possible... Don't forget that, Duncan. The successful defusing of the Fourth Great World War was also thanks to the work of Leyton Hightower." There was a bitter note of reproach in the suggestion.

"... Yes. I know, Master. I apologise for my manners. Personal matters altered my judgement..." Zick immediately eyed the cause in question.

"Ah, you're referring to that gorgeous dowry-hunting maiden? Ahahaha! What a beautiful sight, youth!" Sometimes, as in this case, I yearned to smack the smile off The Watcher's face.

"It's no laughing matter, Old Man! That Harpy Hightower has been harassing and stalking me all over the place for almost a week now! I can't even get out of this chair without starting a diplomatic incident between Barrowton and Oldtown! Dacey is ready to maul Lynesse alive at a first ambiguous glance! Are you or are you not a peacekeeping Guardian?! Do your job and help me!" I grabbed the collar of the old man's robe, tugging at it insistently. The accursed buffoon, who delighted in witnessing the pains and suffering of others, continued to laugh loudly.

"Pff! Ahahaha! May the Three Divine Omens help me! Ahahaha! I can't...! Ahah... to stop... Phew... Phew... Okay, okay, no more laughing or joking... Urm, umm." Zick recomposed himself, and I let go.

"Be that as it may, Lord Hightower did not come up with such a request empty-handed. Leyton offered a gift to you - one I think you might enjoy." My curiosity had been piqued.

"What kind of gift?" I asked.

"Information... Information about an impending conspiracy towards the Hero of the North. Something that had escaped even my sight and that only the Defender of the Citadel, as well as the Master Mind in question, could know. A gesture of peace and an invitation to possible cooperation." Zick.

"...I'm listening." Finally, the merchant opened the jewel box.

"Apparently, Queen Cercei often visited the Grand Maester Pycelle before her departure to the North... Among her personal effects and the various supplies of Post-Pregnancy restorative tonics, there seem to be several vials of poison as well. And, it seems, the one containing 'Basilisk Blood' has just dissipated into thin air... An event that could coincide with an upcoming melee competition... Do you know anyone among tomorrow's contestants who, accidentally drugged by the elixir of frenzy, could cause a real ruckus at a friendly celebratory event?"

'Bloody crazy lunatic!' I gritted my teeth, forcefully restraining the urge to get up and pluck every damned golden lock from the Stupid Lioness's hair.

Gregor Clegane + Basilisk Blood was the perfect recipe for a massacre! What the fuck was that rotten brain suggesting to him? Even if Gregor had managed to take me down amid that Chaos -with only a blunt sword- how was Cercei planning to deflect the accusing fingers pointed at her and House Lannister to avoid the outbreak of a war between the North and the West? By ordering Gregor to assault her brother Jaime as well?

Madness! A thousand or more leaks in the hull could have sunk this ship.

"A gift well received. I will thank Lord Leyton in person."

"Before resuming serious matters, look over there... Your mother is looking for you." I turned and noticed Myra's smiling face pointing to the centre of the dance floor...

Benfred was dancing with Ysilla, Lord Yohn Royce's eldest daughter. And the young couple was even smiling!

' It seems that even the inflexible Benfred is trying his hand at the subtle art of compromise. Ah... Observing the hope of promising youth is always peace to the soul." Said Zick enjoying the spectacle. The teacher and I remained silent for the song's duration, admiring the dance.

Benfred was a natural talent on the dance floor. My brother knew how to move, keep time and guide his dame, learn each step with ease, improvise without overdoing it, and at the same time, maintain the poise of a proper nobleman...

"What can you tell me about Tywin Lannister, Master? Barbrey thinks I am a fool to put so much faith in the man... What do you think?" I asked in a low voice.

"Hmm... Hard to answer that. When talking about you, one would have to redefine the concept of 'Madness'." After the little ironic quip, Zick added, "that man has suffered vast setbacks of disappointment and pain throughout his life. Traumas that have forced him to wear, in perpetuity, a solid, impermeable armour...

You managed to create a crack in the Old Lion's adamantine armour and win some of his respect, but trust will take much longer.

The Lion's survival instinct keeps roaring at him not to trust anyone.

...For the moment, Tywin Lannister is more of a spectator in deep contemplation and waiting... He is waiting for life to show him that all his pillars of belief have been erected on the wrong foundation.

The coming years will be decisive for the final decision of the Head of House Lannister. But whatever path he chooses, he will walk it to the end, never looking back.

... In summary, my boy, your plan holds its fair share of a gamble." I carefully contemplated the analysis of the world's best observer.

"Far be it from me to call myself the best person to ask you this question... But why did you choose him? Why not go for Kevan, Gerion or Tyrion? You have more control over the future choices of those palpable candidates for the Throne of the West." Zick asked with eager curiosity.

"I could give you a hundred different answers, Master, but the one you seek is the same, for which I chose Barbrey as Westeros' Queen of Shadows Candidate...

An inalienable factor that compels me to tread unpredictable paths that rises above all other rational or instinctive deduction, and that will perhaps, one day, decree my doom..." The Watcher waited for the longed-for answer.

"Because he deserves it."

Zick peered at me with a quick analytical glance, and then the elderly man smiled, replying, "A good answer."

"It's normal. I have a good teacher," then... suppressing my reluctance, I added, "you may set that meeting, Guardian of Love. I will meet Lord Leyton at a time and place that suits him."

"Very Good. I will arrange the meeting for the morning after the end of the second tournament event.

You and Lord Leyton will meet in my manor, alone and undisturbed." The old fox had already set up pens and inkwells. Zick had calculated everything. He knew I would accept!

"Before the joust? Doesn't that seem a little too imminent a meeting?" I asked calmly, showing no signs of wanting to back out.

"No, it's perfect, instead. Better to get terms down on paper first. There is a risk that more egregious situations may arise than we had anticipated.

Lord Leyton will come to you with a 'Sincere' proposal for peace. I would like you to listen to it, always showing respect and courtesy to the Protector of the High Council Andalus. The same reverence you would show the Overlord of Carcosa.... Do we understand each other?" I nodded, swallowing a small sob of contempt.

Oldtown was not easy to deal with. Not after my intelligence lifted the immaculate Andalus facade carpet, showing glimpses of the filth and dust piled underneath.

For goodness' sake, the Wizarding Confederacy was certainly no slouch, nor were the Andals strictly 'worse' than the Ghiscarians, Braavosians or Dothraki, but Qyburn's latest reports still haunted my dreams.

"Wouldn't the Chief Sorcerer of the Confederacy be angrier with me if he knew that his 'Possible Ally of the North' dealt with his arch-enemy first rather than with him?" I asked, eyeing the world's second deadliest individual.

Even now, despite months of preparation, I felt considerable anxiety about the long-awaited meeting between The King in The Yellow and myself...

At every opportunity, those ruthless, genial eyes tried to undermine my determination, constantly putting me under pressure.

Humility aside, I was certainly not one to be frightened lightly. But Duq of the Chai dynasty made me break out in a cold sweat. Even my well-chained and Silent Demon would roar out from time to time {Don't-Antagonize-That-Monster! He is not Prey in Our Grasp! Keep Away From Him, Brat!!}

First Emperor among men and then King among Wizards. The past of that semi-divine being was a legend within the legend.

''I will take care of Chai. For now, just focus on tomorrow's event."

Zick concluded, "The Keeper of Magic is somewhat untraceable as of late, but I have already regaled the Keeper of Beauty. The Lord of Winterfell and the other members of the Green Council grant you full representative authority... Prepare yourself, my boy, for when you deal with Lord Hightower, you will speak as the First Men's High Spokesman."

*****

End Chapter.

--------

This chapter upload first at NovelBin.Com