The night was deep, and the situation in King's Landing continued to deteriorate. The threat of riots lingered over the city like a dark cloud. Meanwhile, Storm's forces advanced with sword and fire, becoming an increasingly dangerous enemy.
Tyrion had released some of his hidden assets and ordered the Alchemists' Guild to accelerate the production of wildfire.
"This is truly dreadful."
He worked late into the night, his eyes aching as he reviewed Varys's intelligence reports and the financial records Littlefinger had left behind. The Small Council felt weaker than ever. Only Tyrion, Varys, and Grand Maester Pycelle remained active.
During these lonely nights, his only comfort was Shae.
Her warmth and affection helped ease the burden on his shoulders. Unfortunately, they could never spend much time together. Through Varys's arrangements, Shae had been disguised as a handmaiden serving Lady Tanda.
"Why can't I have a better place to stay?" Shae complained. "My hands weren't made for scrubbing stoves and washing dishes. And if I stand all day, my legs won't stay this soft. Though I suppose being a handmaiden is better than being a cook. Thank you for that, my lord."
"I'm doing this for your safety," Tyrion replied as he stroked her smooth back. "Mercenaries may like my gold, but they won't die for it. The walls around your house could be scaled by one man standing on another's shoulders."
He sighed.
"During the last riot, a goldsmith was torn apart by a mob simply because they thought he was hoarding grain. They ripped the High Septon to pieces, assaulted Lollys, and crushed Ser Aron to death. Imagine what they would do if they discovered the Hand's lover."
Shae looked directly into his eyes.
"I'm not your lover. I'm the Hand's whore."
"If I were your lover, I could walk openly beside you in the Red Keep."
Tyrion stared into her beautiful eyes.
Shae always wanted more. She wanted to wear the silks and jewels he gave her, to hold his hand in public, to stand proudly beside him at feasts and celebrations. She even dreamed of bearing him a child.
She believed she would never embarrass him.
"Those are only dreams," Tyrion said softly.
Loving a prostitute was already considered shameful by noble society. Bringing her openly into court was impossible.
"How are things with Lady Tanda?" he asked.
Shae rolled her eyes.
"How do you think? No silk, no velvet, no beautiful jewelry. Lady Tanda is boring and constantly complaining. Lollys is even worse. Ever since the riot, she barely leaves her room."
Tyrion smiled faintly.
"You're exaggerating. A lady's handmaiden dresses much better than a cook. You still get to wear a piece or two of jewelry."
"But only one or two."
Then her expression softened.
"Have you grown tired of me, my lord?"
She reached for him playfully.
Tyrion caught her hand.
"Not now. There are more important things to worry about."
"Can't I stay here tonight?"
"No. A handmaiden shouldn't be wandering around at night. It would attract attention."
"Why can't you keep me in the Tower of the Hand? Half the lords in court keep mistresses."
"I'm forbidden from bringing you into the palace."
"Are you afraid of Lord Tywin? The Queen Regent? Gendry? Stannis Baratheon? Robb Stark?"
Tyrion shook his head.
"I'm worried about all of them."
He sighed heavily.
"Cersei is still my sister. Without the Lannister name and Lannister gold, I'm just a deformed dwarf."
Shae remained silent.
"Please," Tyrion said gently. "Don't ask about the Tower of the Hand again. I can give you a larger house and more jewels."
"As you wish, my lord."
Tyrion kissed her softly.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight, my lord."
With tears in her eyes, Shae left.
Tyrion watched her go.
I'm sorry.
But tomorrow would bring even more problems to solve.
---
Deep beneath the Alchemists' Guild, the underground chambers were cold and silent.
Pyromancers, apprentices, and Wise Men worked through the night. Wildfire was safest to transport and produce under cover of darkness.
"Production has increased this much?" Hallyne asked in disbelief. "We're approaching ten thousand jars."
"Yes, Master," an apprentice replied. "Faster than ever before."
Hallyne wiped sweat from his forehead.
"Why has it become so easy?"
The process of creating wildfire was notoriously difficult and dangerous. Yet recently, production had accelerated dramatically.
A thought crossed his mind.
Could the old Wise Man have been right?
Years ago, he had asked why many ancient spells no longer worked as described in old scrolls.
The old master had answered:
"Because when the dragons died, magic faded from the world."
Now Hallyne wondered:
Have the dragons returned?
"Store everything carefully," he ordered. "I must inform the Hand of this excellent news."
Then he added:
"Search King's Landing as well. We need to know whether any of Lord Rossart's hidden wildfire caches still exist."
"Yes, Master."
---
Elsewhere in King's Landing, the Dragonpit stood abandoned and ruined.
Few people dared enter its crumbling halls. Only the poorest prostitutes brought customers there.
That night, a drunken patron stumbled across a rotten floorboard and fell into a hidden cellar.
Hundreds of jars were stored below.
"What is this?" he muttered. "Wine?"
He broke one open and took a drink.
His companion looked down nervously.
"My lord?"
Green flames erupted instantly.
The man screamed.
"AAAAHHHH!"
Within moments, he was reduced to ashes.
The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Another forgotten cache of wildfire had been discovered.
---
Far across the Narrow Sea, the Red Temple of Volantis stood illuminated by countless flames.
The massive structure was three times larger than the Great Sept of Baelor. Its towering pillars, bridges, domes, and stairways seemed as though they had been carved from a single giant meteor.
As night fell, enormous fires blazed along the temple steps.
The holy warriors known as the Hands of Holy Fire stood guard. Clad in ornate armor and orange cloaks, they carried spears shaped like burning flames.
Exactly one thousand warriors served at all times.
If one died, an apprentice immediately took his place.
The gathered faithful chanted:
"The night is dark and full of terrors."
"The night is dark and full of terrors."
"Praise the Lord of Light!"
"Praise the Lord of Light!"
Followers of R'hllor filled every corner of Volantis.
Tonight, however, the temple plaza remained closed to the public.
Only the high priests and their attendants remained inside.
Upon a high platform stood High Priest Benerro.
His pale skin was covered in flame tattoos, leaving only his eyes visible beneath a mask-like pattern of red.
Crossing a narrow stone bridge toward him came the Red Priest Moqorro.
"Greetings, High Priest Benerro," Moqorro said respectfully.
"You have arrived," Benerro replied.
Moqorro was an imposing figure—towering, broad, and covered in sacred tattoos.
Benerro's voice rang through the temple.
"The final battle approaches."
"Light against darkness."
"Fire against ice."
"Life against death."
As he spoke, flames burst from his fingertips and danced through the air.
"The Storm is in danger. The servants of darkness seek his downfall."
"What would you have me do, High Priest?" Moqorro asked.
"Go to him."
"Protect him."
"Guide him."
Moqorro bowed.
"As you command."
He gazed into the sacred fire.
"I saw dragons in the flames. Old dragons and young dragons. True dragons and false dragons. Lions hidden in darkness."
His eyes narrowed.
"And in the end, all of them bowed before the golden stag."
Benerro nodded.
"It is the Storm."
"But Marajo has already departed."
"There are false prophets among them," Benerro said. "Not everyone can understand the Lord of Light's visions."
He pointed toward the flames.
"I have seen the Storm's fortune rising ever higher. Marajo will not prevail."
"Praise the Lord of Light," Moqorro said.
"How shall I travel?"
"By ship."
Benerro smiled.
"The Widow of the Waterfront will assist us. A merchant vessel bound for Qarth will carry iron, tin, wool, lace, exotic pelts, jars of dragon peppers..."
His eyes gleamed.
"And one Red Priest."
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)