Chapter 9: Dragon Guardians
Witcher Training – Qarth outskirts, morning The sun was a searing, white-hot coin in a vast, blue sky. It beat down upon the ivory walls of Qarth, a city built on trade and secrets, on deceit and splendor. The air, once cool and crisp, was now thick with the scent of saltwater, exotic spices, and the perfume of a thousand hidden lies. Adam, Lyra, and Tomas were in a secluded training ground, a small, intricate symbol etched on the ground between them. Yrden. A trap sign. A subtle, lethal spell. He was teaching them. He was showing them the secrets of his craft. The knowledge. They were sponges, soaking it all up. They were Witchers in the making.
"Inner monologue: Dragons need guardians. Viserys needs a cage. We're a pack now. A pack of Witchers. An army of monster hunters. An army that will protect her. An army that will get her to the Iron Throne. An army that will end Viserys. Slowly. Painfully. One step at a time."
"These traps are deadly," Lyra said, her voice a breathless whisper, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and wonder.
Adam gave her a small, grim smile. "Good," he said. "Dragons need that edge."
He heard the sound of Viserys's voice, a high-pitched, whiny protest from the other side of the camp. Adam gave Lyra a small, knowing smile. "He's at it again," he said. He focused on Viserys, a subtle mental compulsion. Axii. He made him beg. He made him grovel. He made him tell the world what he truly was. A pathetic, whimpering mess.
AXII SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: HUMILIATE VISERYS, 50 XP.
"Give me scraps!" Viserys shrieked, his voice a frantic, forced confession. "Please! I'm so hungry!" The Dothraki around him were staring, their faces a mixture of confusion and disbelief. He was a king. And he was begging for food. Adam's lips curled into a small, humorless smile. "He's a starving dragon now," he muttered under his breath.
Dragon Watch – Qarth garden, noon The sun was high in the sky, a blazing inferno. The air was thick with dust and the smell of sweat. Adam, Daenerys, and their small entourage, a blend of loyal Dothraki, the quiet, watchful Lyra, and a new recruit, Tomas, were standing by a small, tranquil pond, the three dragon eggs nestled between them. They pulsed with a faint, internal heat, a quiet, slumbering power. Adam was studying them. He was a Witcher. He was a man of science and magic. He knew the secrets of alchemy, of signs, of spells. He knew how to harness power. He knew how to awaken it. He knew how to make it his own.
"Inner monologue: The eggs are her destiny. Her future. Her legacy. I'll make sure they hatch. I'll make sure she's a queen. A dragon queen. I'll make sure her brother is a memory. A pathetic, whimpering memory. A footnote in history. I'll get her to the Iron Throne. And I'll make sure everyone who stands in our way pays a price. A bloody, agonizing price. Starting with this city of thieves and liars."
"My dragons trust you," Daenerys said, her voice a whisper, her eyes soft.
Adam nodded slowly. "And I trust my Witchers," he said, his voice a low, firm promise. He had crafted a Swallow potion, a small, lethal concoction, a cocktail of healing power and dark magic. He had it hidden in his bag. A little insurance.
ALCHEMY LEVEL 5, SWALLOW POTION CRAFTED. 100 GOLD USED. 50 XP GAINED.
He used Disguise again, a subtle spell, to make himself blend in with the shadows. He had overheard Viserys's frantic, desperate pleas to Illyrio. He was trying to find a way to get rid of Daenerys. To get his army. His crown. The fool.
DISGUISE SIGN USED. STAMINA: 15/100. QUEST: HUMILIATE VISERYS, 50 XP.
Tomas, who had been listening from a distance, came closer, his face a mask of awe. "We've got your back," he said, his voice a breathless whisper. Adam gave him a small, grim smile. "I know," he said.
Qartheen Market – Qarth, evening The sun was setting, painting the sky in a fiery, orange hue. The streets of Qarth, a winding, chaotic labyrinth, were filled with the sound of music, laughter, and the low murmur of conversation. Adam, Lyra, and Tomas were walking, a small, silent party. They felt it on the back of their necks. The prickle of danger. The scent of blood. The sound of a whispered ambush. Thieves. Of course. Viserys's doing. The fool.
"Inner monologue: They're getting desperate. They're getting stupid. They're a pathetic, whimpering mess. I'll show them. I'll make them regret the day they were born. For threatening her. For trying to hurt her. For trying to take what isn't theirs. I'll show them what happens when you cross a queen and her Witcher. I'll make them an example. A lesson in pain. A lesson in fear."
They came out of the shadows, a group of three, their faces a grotesque mask of rage. They were armed with daggers and rusty swords. They were looking for a prize. They were looking for a queen. They had found death.
"Thieves don't scare me," Adam said, his voice a low, gravelly hum, a promise of violence. He didn't even draw his sword. He used Quen, a shimmering, ethereal shield of pure magic, a faint blue glow that pulsed around his body. The daggers, the swords, all bounced off his shield. He used his sword, a cold, lethal blur, to cut them down. Their bodies crumpled to the floor, blood blooming on the stone floor. The scent of death, the scent of fear, filled the air.
QUEN SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. 100 XP GAINED.
Daenerys stared, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe. "You're their shield," she said, her voice a whisper, her eyes soft.
A sudden, high-pitched wail of pain, of surprise, of utter humiliation, came from behind them. Viserys had stumbled, his foot caught in a small puddle, and he had faceplanted, his face a grotesque mask of mud and pain. The guards around them erupted into laughter. Adam grinned. He had used Aard. A simple, telekinetic push.
AARD SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: HUMILIATE VISERYS, 50 XP.
"This is humiliating!" Viserys shrieked, his voice a muffled cry. Adam gave him a small, mocking smile. "Snakes belong in the dirt," he muttered under his breath.
Night Plans – Qarth inn, night The inn was a warm, cozy place, a welcome respite from the chaos of the streets. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and sweet wine. Adam and Daenerys were sitting in a small, private room, a small fire crackling in the hearth. They were discussing the day's events. The attack. The ambush. The threats. Adam was the one who was guiding the conversation. He was the one who had a plan. A strategy. A purpose. He was the one who had a Witcher's instincts. He felt it on the back of his neck. The prickle of danger. The scent of blood. The sound of a whispered ambush. Assassins. Of course. Viserys's doing. The fool.
"Inner monologue: They're getting desperate. They're getting stupid. They're a pathetic, whimpering mess. I'll show them. I'll make them regret the day they were born. For threatening her. For trying to hurt her. For trying to take what isn't theirs. I'll show them what happens when you cross a queen and her Witcher. I'll make them an example. A lesson in pain. A lesson in fear."
They came out of the shadows, a group of two, their faces hidden behind masks, their eyes a predatory gleam. They were armed with daggers and rusty swords. They were looking for a prize. They were looking for a queen. They had found death.
"Thieves don't scare me," Adam said, his voice a low, gravelly hum, a promise of violence. He didn't even draw his sword. He used Quen, a shimmering, ethereal shield of pure magic, a faint blue glow that pulsed around his body. The daggers, the swords, all bounced off his shield. He used his sword, a cold, lethal blur, to cut them down. Their bodies crumpled to the floor, blood blooming on the wooden floorboards. The scent of death, the scent of fear, filled the air.
QUEN SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: PROTECT DAENERYS, 100 XP.
Daenerys stared, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe. "You're my rock," she said, her voice a whisper, her eyes soft.
A sudden, high-pitched wail of pain, of surprise, of utter humiliation, came from the next room. Viserys had stumbled, his foot caught in a small fountain, and he had faceplanted, his face a grotesque mask of mud and pain. The guards around them erupted into laughter. Adam grinned. He had used Axii. A subtle, mental compulsion. He had made him confess to the guards, to the world, what he truly was.
AXII SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: HUMILIATE VISERYS, 50 XP.
"I helped them!" Viserys shrieked, his voice a frantic, forced confession. "I just wanted my army! My crown!" Adam's lips curled into a small, humorless smile. "He's a dead man walking," he said. He looked at Daenerys, his eyes a cold, unwavering light. "And you're my queen. And Viserys is my punching bag. He'll get what's coming to him."
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