The man looked up from his table, eyes red and swollen from crying, his voice trembling."Why… why do you want to know?"
Gadriel stood tall before him, his expression calm but steady. "It would be better if we spoke outside," he said.
The man hesitated, confused and wary, but something in Gadriel's tone — quiet, firm, without cruelty — compelled him to obey. He rose from his seat and followed Gadriel out the back door of the tavern. The cold air bit at their skin, and the distant murmur of the sea rolled beneath the night's silence.
They stopped behind the building, near a stack of empty barrels glistening with frost. The man wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Why do you want to know where my daughter is?" he asked again, voice breaking.
"I heard what you said inside," Gadriel replied. "You mentioned something called greyscale. I don't know what that is… but it sounds like a sickness. And if it is, let's just say I'm good at getting rid of such things."
The man stared at him, disbelief flickering behind his tears. "You… you can cure her?" His tone trembled between hope and denial. "There's no cure for greyscale. None."
"I have my means," Gadriel said simply.
"That's not enough," the man said, shaking his head. "How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you're telling the truth?"
Gadriel sighed, the breath visible in the cold air. He looked at the man with quiet understanding. "Very well. If I show you, you must keep it a secret. Do you understand?"
The man swallowed hard, then nodded faintly. "Aye."
Gadriel's eyes moved to the man's forearm, where a bandage peeked from beneath his sleeve — stained dark with blood. "Give me your arm," he said.
"What?" The man blinked in confusion. "What do you—"
Before he could finish, Gadriel reached out, unwrapping the bandage with deliberate care. The gash beneath was deep but clean. Gadriel raised his hand, palm glowing faintly with golden light that cast gentle shadows across the wall.
The man froze as warmth spread through his arm — soothing, radiant, unlike anything he'd ever felt. The wound closed before his eyes, the pain vanishing with it.
He stared, speechless. "By the Seven…" he whispered, voice trembling. "How… how did you do that?"
Gadriel lowered his hand, the light fading. "Now," he said quietly, "I'll ask again. Where is your daughter?"
The man's mouth opened, then closed again. Finally, he nodded. "Follow me."
They walked through the sleeping village in silence, the soft thud of Gadriel's boots and the man's uneven steps the only sounds. The moonlight shone on the rooftops, and the faint scent of the sea grew stronger as they reached the edge of town.
The man stopped before a small cottage — humble, worn by time. "She's inside," he said. "I'll take you to her."
He led Gadriel through the narrow doorway and into a dimly lit home. The hearth still burned low, its light flickering across simple furnishings. A small door stood at the far end of the room.
The man hesitated a moment, then opened it gently. "Sweetheart," he said softly, his voice trembling. "Daddy's home."
A quiet rustle came from within. A girl turned her head toward them from her bed. The right side of her face and neck were mottled with grey, scaly patches — the telltale mark of her sickness. Her eyes, though tired, still held warmth.
The man swallowed hard. "This man here… he's here to help you," he said, his words faltering. "So… so just listen to him, alright?"
He stepped back and closed the door softly behind Gadriel, leaving them alone.
Gadriel approached slowly, kneeling beside the bed so his eyes met hers. "Hello," he said gently. "My name is Gadriel. What's yours?"
"It's… Ariel," she replied in a small, shy voice.
"Ariel," Gadriel repeated with a faint smile. "A beautiful name. And how old are you, Ariel?"
"Thirteen," she said, her voice even smaller.
"Well, it's very nice to meet you," Gadriel said warmly. "Now, I see you've got something called greyscale. I'm here to help you, but I need you to close your eyes for a moment. Can you do that for me?"
She hesitated, then nodded, closing her eyes slowly.
Gadriel lifted his hand, holding it just above her face. The faint hum of power filled the small room as light gathered around his palm — soft, golden, and pure. It spread across the girl's skin like sunlight over snow, washing away the grey scales and returning color and warmth where the sickness had taken root.
Within seconds, it was gone.
"You can open your eyes now, Ariel," Gadriel said softly.
She did — and when her small hands touched her face, her breath caught. The roughness, the pain, the weight — all of it was gone. Tears welled in her eyes, and she leapt from the bed, rushing past Gadriel and flinging open the door.
"Daddy!" she cried, her voice breaking with joy. "Look! It's gone! It's gone!"
Her father fell to his knees, staring in disbelief as his daughter threw her arms around him. "By all the gods…" he whispered, holding her tight. "My sweet girl…"
Gadriel stood quietly in the doorway, watching the moment unfold. There was no pride in his expression, only quiet satisfaction.
The man looked up at him, eyes wide with awe and gratitude. "May the Seven bless you," he said fervently. "If there's anything — anything at all — you need or want, please tell me."
Gadriel nodded slightly. "Then let's start with some questions."
The man hesitated, then gently guided his daughter back into her room, closing the door once more. "What do you want to know?"
"Well," Gadriel began, "I heard you mention something earlier — Valyria and the Stone Men. What are they?"
The man's eyes widened slightly. "You really don't know?"
"I wouldn't ask if I did."
He took a seat, motioning for Gadriel to do the same. "I don't know much, only what's told in stories. They say Valyria was once the greatest realm that ever was — filled with wonders. Spells, crafts, things no one's seen since. They say their smiths forged blades that never dulled and towers that touched the clouds. But then came the Doom — a disaster so great that it destroyed everything. No one agrees on what caused it, but none who lived there survived. Now it's nothing but smoke and ruin."
Gadriel listened closely, his curiosity sharpening.
"And the Stone Men?" he asked.
"That's easier," the man said, lowering his gaze. "They're what happens when greyscale takes the body completely. Their skin turns to stone, their minds crumble until they're little more than beasts. They're sent to the ruins, to live out their days among others like them."
Gadriel was silent for a long moment, his eyes reflecting the faint firelight. "I see," he murmured.
Then, quietly but with intent, he looked at the man again. "How would you feel about taking one man and his horse to Valyria?"