A moment later, in a secluded corner far from the bonfire, only the sound of wind whistled in their ears.
The night wind sobered Wear up considerably. He had no idea why he was being seen alone, and facing Arthur's serious, scrutinizing gaze, he appeared somewhat uneasy.
"Wear, tell me again, in detail, everything you saw," Arthur's voice was calm. "What did its head look like?"
Wear trembled nervously, trying hard to recall. "Its head was very big, and on top... on top, there were many thick horns, curved like an old mountain goat's horns, but bigger, thicker, and blacker."
"Its mouth was very big and long, and its teeth... its teeth were like huge black blades, crisscrossing."
"Its body was like a huge mountain."
Brin frowned deeply, nervously turning to look at Arthur. What this kid was saying sounded exactly like the descriptions from the legendary tales told by commoners in the streets. Fearing his brother would be punished, he hastily spoke up:
"Lord Arthur, a drunkard's words cannot be taken seriously. The legends people tell in the streets, like Black Dread Balarion, are all described this way."
"Or rather, every dragon is described this way."
Arthur's expression remained unchanged, noncommittal. He merely raised a hand to signal Brin to calm down, his gaze still fixed on Wear, motioning for him to continue: "Didn't you say it was made of stone?"
Lord Arthur wasn't mocking him. Encouraged, Wear's words seemed to pour out: "It really was stone! My Lord! I didn't lie to you!"
"Only its eyes were moving! Otherwise, I would have been swallowed whole by it! Its huge mouth could fit a large house! Seven Gods!"
Wear seemed to fall into his own memories, his eyes unfocused, muttering: "Those eyes... its eyes were black, glowing in the darkness, terrifyingly bright in the dark, staring at me, staring at me, following my gaze."
"Were its eyes red or black?" Brin cursed aloud. "You brat, you're not allowed to drink starting today!"
"Really!!! I really saw it!!!" Wear's voice suddenly rose, carrying a hint of aggrievedness from being doubted. "I remember now, they were green! They were green!!!"
Brin: "..."
"Didn't you say its eyes were looking at you?" Arthur was somewhat frustrated; this kid was a bit too unreliable.
"I was too drunk at the time... My Lord," Wear's face reddened slightly, and he clasped his hands together, continuously rubbing them. "I don't remember clearly... otherwise, I wouldn't have dared to go up and touch its... body."
Arthur fell silent, not asking for any more details: "Can you still find that place?"
"Yes..." Wear nodded, then immediately shook his head. "No..."
A finger pointed at his face; it was Arthur's.
"You better remember, you brat!"
"Otherwise!"
Wear waved his hands in front of his chest, constantly swaying. His hands were trembling, and he started to stammer:
"I was really too drunk at the time, My Lord..."
"I only remember it was a cave located in the middle of the mountain, and the entrance was covered by countless tangled, dense vines. I pushed aside several layers of vines to crawl inside."
"It was a very, very large opening. Standing at the entrance, I felt like an ant."
"The stone dragon was coiled at the very back, its head near the entrance, almost filling the entire space."
"It was too dark. I only saw two dark, cavernous spots, like where eyes would be."
"Then... then I think I saw something light up inside, green... it might have been the firelight, red... I don't know, I really don't know!"
"Brin is right! Starting tomorrow, you must abstain from alcohol!" Arthur snatched Wear's wine cup and gulped it down. In Westeros, or rather, in this world, anything related to the word 'dragon' could contain world-overturning power. Countless people flocked to it, yet it came from the mouth of a drunkard.
Brin could no longer tolerate it. He stepped forward, grabbed Wear by the collar, his teeth grinding. He hated how this young man debased himself.
"You idiot! What nonsense are you spouting!" His voice was choked with suppressed rage, like a beast about to erupt, but more than anger, it was a feeling of disappointment. "Look at the mess you are now!!! What have you become!!!"
Wear was shaken dizzy, his eyes reddened. He lowered his head, his gaze filled with confusion, regret, and shame.
Arthur raised his hand and gripped Brin's hand that was holding Wear, signaling Brin to let go. Brin released his grip, and Wear immediately collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
"Sigh..." Arthur sighed and squatted down, his eyes level with Wear's. He extended a finger and gently tapped Wear's forehead. "I need useful people, not drunkards. From today on, if I see you drunk again..."
Arthur understood Wear's plight and his idea of numbing himself with alcohol, but ultimately, people still had to save themselves. If one even gave up on oneself, then only divine intervention remained.
Brin stood by, his face ashen, watching Wear sob and wipe away tears. He only hoped that Lord Arthur's words would sober the young man up.
Arthur withdrew his finger and stood up, silently gazing at the night sky. A story full of holes, an unverified location...
But he had coincidentally seen the anomaly, and his curiosity was simply irrepressible.
Why was the anomaly revealed to him? Should he perform another "sacrifice" like last time? He now understood why, in A Song of Ice and Fire, people who used sacrifices eventually spiraled out of control, as if addicted.
Sending people deep into the Brightmoon Mountains, risking entry into wildling-controlled territory, to search for a "stone dragon" that might not even exist, based on what might just be a drunkard's ramblings—that was too foolish.
Arthur knew that he was actually very curious about supernatural powers, or rather, no Easterner could resist the allure of the supernatural: magic, dragons, mystery.
Should he light the fire once more? And what items, actions, or words would be needed to light the fire? What would the consequences be? He knew nothing.
"Take him back, Brin." Arthur turned to look at Brin; ultimately, reason prevailed.
Brin breathed a sigh of relief. He was truly afraid that Arthur would chop off Wear's head in a fit of rage. He grabbed Wear's arm, preparing to drag him away.
After only two steps, Wear struggled and suddenly stopped. He spun around abruptly, as if remembering a lifeline, and excitedly raised a finger, shouting:
"Wait! Lord Arthur! I remember! I remember everything!"
"..." Arthur slowly turned around, covering his face with his palm, his voice gritted out through his fingers: "What the hell did you remember now?"
"Firelight! It was firelight!" Wear's face was flushed with excitement. "It was green eyes!! There was a towering firelight that night! That's why its eyes were red! I wasn't lying!"
Before he finished speaking, Brin had already reached his limit. More damned drunk talk! They were in wildling-controlled territory at the time; how could they dare to light a fire? If there had been a towering blaze, how could they not have seen it? He raised a foot and kicked Wear hard in the butt.
"Get out!"
Wear let out a shriek, stumbling forward, and was picked up by Brin and disappeared into the dark woods.
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