Marcos discovered that Minecraft potions were simultaneously the best and scariest thing he had ever created .
" Okay , Elia, drink this," he said, handing her a small glass bottle filled with bright red liquid.
Elia looked at the potion with justified distrust.
—What exactly is it?
—Technically, it's an Instant Healing Potion. It should heal minor wounds instantly.
- "Ought"?
—Well, it works in the game. Here in real life... I've never tried it. That's why I need a volunteer.
—Mr. Vidal, with all due respect, that sounds like a fancy way of saying "human guinea pig."
"I prefer the term 'participant in groundbreaking medical research.'" Marcos smiled. "But yes, basically."
Elia sighed deeply.
—Okay. But if I turn into something weird, I'm going to haunt him like a ghost.
-Noted.
They were in a building that Marcos had built that morning specifically for experiments: stone walls, large windows, work tables, empty shelves waiting to be filled with potion bottles.
It was basically a medieval fantasy laboratory.
Elia had deliberately cut her finger (superficially) to have something to heal. The blood dripped slowly.
He drank the potion in one gulp.
Marcos watched intently.
For three seconds, nothing happened.
Then, the wound on Elia's finger began to glow with a soft red light. The skin closed. The blood disappeared. In five seconds, the finger was completely healed, without even a scar.
Elia stared at her finger, her eyes wide with shock.
—By the Seven... it worked. It really worked.
" YES!" Marcos jumped up like a kid on Christmas morning. "It works! The potions work! We have medical magic!"
"This is... this is incredible." Elia moved her finger, flexing it, testing it. "I don't feel anything. No pain, no discomfort. It's like I never cut myself."
"And that's just the basic version." Marcos pulled more potions from his inventory. "I have Regeneration Potions that heal serious wounds in minutes. Healing Potions II that are more powerful. Strength Potions, Speed Potions, Night Vision Potions..."
—Night vision?
—Yes. You can see in complete darkness. It's useful for... I don't know, night watchmen.
Elia sat in a chair, processing.
—Mr. Vidal, do you realize what this means?
—That I can cure diseases and injuries that would normally be fatal?
"Yes, but more than that." Elia looked at him seriously. "This changes everything. People die from simple infections, from festering wounds, from diseases that could be cured with the right medicine. If we have unlimited access to these potions..."
"We can save lives. Many lives." Marcos nodded. "That's the plan."
"But it also means that others will want these potions . Desperately." Elia frowned. "If this gets out, Astoria will become a target."
"We're already a target. The magistrates hate us. Eventually, larger kingdoms will take notice of us." Marcos shrugged. "But you're right. Potions are a resource that must be protected. We can't just give them away to anyone."
—So what do we do?
"We use them for our people first. Astoria has free, excellent healthcare. That's going to attract more people. And when we're strong enough… then we can consider limited trade." Marcos paused. "But on our terms. Not as a product that anyone can buy, but as a service that we control."
Elia nodded slowly.
"It's a dangerous plan. But I understand the logic."
"Welcome to my world. Everything I do is dangerous." Marcos smiled. "But for now, I need you to help me categorize which potions are for what. And we need to establish usage protocols."
—Understood. I'm going to need assistants.
"You'll have them. Start recruiting people with herbal knowledge, healers, whatever you can find. This building is yours now. You're the director of the..." She paused for a moment. "...of the Astoria Medical Institute."
— "Institute"?
"It's a fancy word for 'hospital.' Trust me, it sounds more impressive."
After leaving Elia to experiment with potions (under supervision, because Marcos didn't want her to accidentally create an invisibility potion and disappear), Marcos went to look for Garrett.
He found him in the training area, supervising the guards practicing with swords.
—Garrett, I need to talk to you.
"Sure, boss." Garrett left the guards practicing and walked with Marcos to a more private place. "What's up?"
—I need your opinion on something. Something... delicate.
—It sounds ominous.
"It is." Marcos took a breath. "Do you know who the Targaryens are ?"
Garrett looked at him in surprise.
—The fallen dragons? Yes, everyone knows them. The Mad King, the rebellion, Robert Baratheon ... why?
—Because there are two survivors. A brother and a sister. Viserys and Daenerys . They are in Pentos , hiding in Magister Illyrio 's mansion .
—And how do you know that?
"Investigation. Espionage. I have my methods." Marcos wasn't about to reveal that he had literally broken into the mansion. "The point is: Illyrio is planning to sell the sister, Daenerys , to a Dothraki Khal . Khal Drogo. The marriage is in less than a week."
Garrett frowned.
—Sell her? That's... well, unfortunately common for nobles in exile. They use marriages for alliances.
"She's thirteen, Garrett. Maybe fourteen. And they're selling her to a warlord who will probably rape her repeatedly until she's pregnant or dies." Marcos clenched his fists. "And the worst part is that Illyrio and his partner, Varys , are using all of this as part of a bigger plan. The girl is just a tool for them."
" Okay , that's messed up." Garrett crossed his arms. "So what do you want to do about it?"
"That's the million-dollar question." Marcos began pacing in circles. "Option one: I do nothing. I let the marriage happen. It's the 'safe' thing for me. I don't get involved in international politics. I don't make powerful enemies."
"But it's going to eat away at your conscience for the rest of your life," Garrett finished.
"Exactly. Option two: I rescue her. I go to the manor, get her out, offer her asylum in Astoria." Marcos paused. "But that means instant war with Illyrio , probably with Pentos , possibly with the Dothraki if Drogo is offended. And it puts Daenerys in danger because everyone will come here looking for her."
—It's also a risky move.
—Option three: I wait until after marriage and try to "rescue" her afterward. But that means she suffers unnecessary trauma.
—And option four ? —Garrett asked.
—Is there an option four?
"There's always a fourth option," Garrett smiled. " You offer her asylum BEFORE the marriage, but in a way that makes it seem like it was her decision. Not a kidnapping, but a voluntary rescue. That way Illyrio and Drogo can't say you stole her."
Marcos stopped.
"That... that could work. If I introduce myself to her, explain the situation, offer her an alternative..." He frowned. "But how? I can't just show up at the mansion and say, 'Hi, I'm Marcos, I've come to save you.'"
—Why not? You can do magic. You can come and go without anyone seeing you.
—Yes, but if I talk to her and then disappear, she'll be traumatized thinking she saw ghosts. I need a way to introduce myself that's... I don't know, less scary.
Garrett thought for a moment.
—What if you invite her to come here? You send her a message. Something discreet.
—A message? Like what? "Dear Daenerys , if you're tired of being sold like cattle, come to Astoria"?
"Well, maybe with better wording." Garrett laughed. "But yeah, something like that. You give them the option to come. If they come, great. If they don't, at least you tried."
Marcos considered the idea.
It wasn't perfect. But it was better than the alternatives.
—And how do I send him the message without Illyrio intercepting it?
—That's your part. You're the one with magic and divine powers. I'm sure you'll come up with something.
Marcos laughed.
— You're right. Let me think.
That afternoon, Marcos was in his office, writing and rewriting a message.
It was harder than I thought.
Version 1:" Daenerys Targaryen : I know they're going to sell you out. I can offer you an alternative. Come to Astoria.
"Very direct. Sounds like a kidnapper." Marcos crumpled the paper.
Version 2:"Dear Daenerys : I have heard of your situation and wish to offer you refuge in my sovereign territory, where no one can force you to marry against your will."
—Very formal. Sounds like a lawyer. —Another crumpled piece of paper.
Version 3:"Dany (can I call you Dany?): Your brother is an idiot and Illyrio is using you. I have a place where you can be free. Think about it ."
—Too casual. And offensive. —Crumpled paper.
Marcos leaned back in his chair, frustrated.
—How the hell do you write a letter saying " come live in my magic fortress because the world is screwing you over" without sounding like a lunatic or a kidnapper?
He decided to be honest. Completely honest.
Final Version:
Daenerys Targaryen ,
My name is Marcos Vidal. You don't know me , and I have no right to write you this letter, but I'm doing it anyway.
I know you're in Pentos . I know your brother and Magister Illyrio are planning to marry you off to Khal Drogo. I know you had no choice in any of this.
I'm not a savior. I'm not a hero. I'm just someone who built something new and who believes that people deserve to choose their own destiny.
I own a territory east of Pentos . It's called Astoria. It's still small, but it's growing. And most importantly, it's a place where no one will force you to do anything you don't want to.
If you decide to stay in Pentos and accept the marriage, I respect your decision. But if you want another option, my door is open.
I expect nothing in return. I don't want to use you to gain power or influence. I simply want to offer you what no one else has offered you: a choice.
If you come, we'll protect you. If you don't come, I'll destroy this letter and we'll never speak of this again.
The decision is yours.
—Marcos VidalFounder and Ruler of Astoria
Marcos read the letter three times.
She wasn't perfect. But she was honest.
And perhaps honesty was better than perfection.
—Okay. Now the problem is: how do I get it to her?
He couldn't simply send a messenger. Illyrio would intercept any letter.
I needed to deliver it personally.
Which meant another nighttime infiltration.
"Ninja-style again," he muttered. "At least this time I know where his room is."
That night:
Marcos prepared himself as before: dark clothing, inventory full of useful items (invisibility potions, ender pearls , blocks for quick escape), and his Anos power activated for maximum perception and stealth.
He told Garrett where he was going.
—Are you sure about this, boss?
—No. But I'm going to do it anyway.
—If you don't come back in three hours, I'm going to assume you've been captured and I'm going to start planning a rescue that will probably fail spectacularly.
—Thank you for your vote of confidence.
Marcos rode to Pentos on Rocinante. The journey took him three hours (he got lost once, but only once, a new record).
He left Rocinante tied up in a grove near the city and continued on foot.
Pentos at night was different. Darker, more dangerous. There were guards patrolling, but they were predictable. Marcos easily avoided them with his magical perception.
Illyrio 's mansion .
The same walls. The same watchtowers. But now Marcos knew the layout. He knew exactly where Daenerys 's room was .
He jumped over the wall effortlessly.
It crossed the gardens like a shadow.
He climbed up the wall towards the third-floor window.
Daenerys ' window was open, just like last time.
Marcos peered out cautiously.
Daenerys was awake, sitting on her bed, looking out the window at the moon.
She was wearing the same simple nightgown. Her platinum blonde hair shone in the moonlight.
She looked... sad. Alone.
Marcos felt that tightness in his chest again.
He took a breath and, using magic, projected his voice directly toward her. It wasn't a shout; it was as if his voice appeared in the air beside her, soft but clear.
— Daenerys Targaryen .
Daenerys jumped, looking around in terror.
— Who's there?
"Don't be scared. I'm not going to hurt you." Marcos kept his voice calm. "I'm outside your window. If you want me to leave, just say so and I'll disappear forever."
There was a long silence.
Then, in a trembling voice, Daenerys asked:
—Why can't I see you?
—Because I'm using magic to hide. But if you want to see me, I can show you. Although it'll probably be weird.
—This is all very strange.
—Good point.
Marcos partially deactivated his concealment. He didn't reveal himself completely (he didn't want her to scream), but he left his silhouette visible in the window.
Daenerys saw it and stepped back.
"Don't shout," Marcos said quickly. "Please. If you shout , the guards will come, and it'll be a mess for everyone."
—Who are you? What do you want ?
"My name is Marcos. And I came to give you this." He took out the folded letter. "It's a letter. There's no magic in it, no poison, no trap. Just words."
- Because?
"Because I think you deserve to know you have options." Marcos placed the letter on the windowsill. "Read it when you're alone. And then decide what to do. No one else has to know it exists."
Daenerys looked at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity.
—Are you an assassin sent by Robert?
"No. If I were a murderer, you'd be dead by now." Marcos paused. "Sorry, that sounded more sinister than I meant to. I'm not a murderer. I'm... " " What was it?" "I'm someone who's building something new and thinks you should be a part of it if you want ."
— Part of what?
"It's in the letter." Marcos started to back away. " Read it . Think about it . If you decide to come, there's a map on the back. If you don't come, that's fine too. But at least you'll know you had a choice."
-Wait-
But Marcos had already jumped down, landing in the garden without a sound.
He disappeared into the shadows before Daenerys could say anything more.
When he was sure that no one had seen him, he jumped over the wall and ran towards where he had left Rocinante.
"Well done, Marquitos," he said to himself as he mounted. "That was just extremely scary and risky. Not bad at all."
He rode back towards Astoria, his heart still beating fast.
In her room, Daenerys stood in front of the window for a full five minutes, staring in the direction the stranger had disappeared.
Finally, with trembling hands, she took the letter from the windowsill.
She opened it.
And he began to read.
With each word, her eyes widened.
When she finished, tears were rolling down her cheeks.
They were not tears of fear.
They were tears of something I hadn't felt in years.
Hope.
She read the letter three more times before hiding it under her pillow.
That night, Daenerys Targaryen slept for the first time in months without nightmares.
He dreamed of a place called Astoria.
And with a strange man who had given her something that no one else had ever given her:
A choice.
[END OF CHAPTER 7]