We were now trotting past a hill with trees creating small forests around it.
"Father I know you said that the Rhoynar lands will be the place from where we can begin to understand the true nature of the world and why magic seems to be dying. Though I fail to understand how we will go about discovering this. The Rhoynar left these lands for Westeros and what remains is covered in mist. A mist that carries within it stone men and the dreaded grey scale." I said while shivering at the thought of how one dies from grey scale.
Father chuckled "You need not fear grey scale Hermione it can do you no harm."
"How can you be certain of that?" I asked curious seeing his confidence.
Father turned his head toward me while the horse continued to trot. He had a sinister smile about him. "Because I already infected you with it"
"What!" I yelped in staunch disbelief.
Father began to laugh. "Yes you are immune to it. I infected all of you with it while conducting one of the blood rituals and made you immune. There are many such plagues I have safeguarded you from and there will be many more. It is part of the reason why poisons also have no effect on you and your siblings"
"I would have appreciated having this knowledge earlier father. You have no idea how fixated I have been on being infected with grey scale, only for you to tell me I have nothing to worry about." I said with some exasperation.
Father had a cheeky smile just like Octavian on his face he raised his index to his lips tapping them. "I mentioned it to Octavian after the ritual I thought he would tell you"
Boiling irritation seethed within me at the though of my brother having that smug and cheeky face when he hatched this plot to not tell me about grey scale not affecting us. "Once we return I will have that idiot roasted for this."
Father chuckled waving his hand "It was just a silly jape he played on you no need to roast him for it"
"Oh, but I will" I countered.
The sun began its final descent, painting the sprawling Essosi plains in heavily bruised shades of violet and crimson. We had dismounted to establish our camp for the night. I was in the midst of conjuring a fire, my mind still simmering with lingering irritation over Octavian's smug little secret regarding the greyscale, when the atmosphere abruptly shifted.
Father stopped moving. He stood perfectly still, his glowing emerald eyes fixing upon the eastern horizon.
"Be prepared," he commanded, his voice dropping all traces of its former warmth. "There seem to be riders heading towards our direction. Cast a Disillusionment Charm upon yourself to avoid their notice."
I did not hesitate. I drew my vinewood wand, tapping it sharply against my own crown. A sensation like a cracked egg washed over my body, the magic perfectly blending my form into the tall, swaying grass. Father simply flicked his wrist, melting into the twilight without a single uttered incantation.
We crouched low behind the crest of a gentle ridge. Soon, the heavy, rhythmic thud of hooves and the harsh, guttural shouts of men carried over the wind.
Emerging from the gloom was a large column of Dothraki riders. They sat tall upon their painted horses, their long, braided hair whipping in the breeze, curved arakhs glinting menacingly at their hips.
But it was not the warlords that made my blood run cold. It was the long, wretched line of humanity tethered behind them.
Dozens of slaves were bound together by thick, coarse ropes that chafed against their necks and wrists. There were women, children, and elderly men among them. They were entirely stripped of their dignity, many lacking shoes or proper clothing to ward off the encroaching chill of the evening. They stumbled with sheer exhaustion, their faces hollowed out by profound starvation and absolute despair. A child stumbled, crying out as the rope dragged him forward, and his mother desperately hauled him back to his feet, her face entirely masked in terror as she glanced toward the riders.
I gripped my wand so tightly my knuckles turned entirely white. My heart hammered against my ribs, a fierce, burning compulsion rising in my chest to step forward, to unleash a volley of severing charms, to tear the warlords from their saddles and shatter the chains.
A firm, invisible hand rested heavily upon my shoulder, anchoring me to the earth.
"Do not," Father's voice whispered directly into my mind, a seamless projection of his thoughts.
I watched in agonizing silence as the slaver caravan slowly marched past our ridge, the weeping of the captives echoing painfully in my ears until they finally disappeared into the western horizon.
Once they were completely out of sight, I dropped the Disillusionment Charm. The magical camouflage melted away, revealing my shaking hands. Father materialized beside me, his expression stony and unreadable.
"Why did we simply watch?" I demanded, my voice trembling with unfiltered outrage. "You are Aeternus. You slew a literal god a moon past. Those were merely mortal men. You could have rendered them to ash with a single thought."
"I could have," Father agreed, his tone brutally calm. "And then what, Hermione?"
"Then those people would be free!"
"Would they?" Father countered, turning his piercing gaze upon me. "We are hundreds of leagues from the Imperial border. There is no Legion to protect them, no Roman magistrate to feed them. If I slaughter those riders, the captives are left to starve in the wilderness. Despite my powers I cannot apparate hundreds of people. Even if I freed them and let them flee they be scooped up by the next wandering khalasar. And what of the inevitable retaliation? When the Khal learns his riders were massacred, he will not seek out two lone travellers. He will burn every single peaceful village within fifty leagues to the ground in bloody retribution."
I swallowed hard, the burning righteousness in my chest faltering against the cold, crushing weight of his logic.
"It feels like a sin," I whispered, staring at the empty plains. "To possess this magnitude of power and do absolutely nothing while evil marches right past us."
Father let out a heavy, world-weary sigh. He stepped closer, placing a grounding hand upon my shoulder.
"That is the heaviest burden of the power you were born into, my daughter," he said softly. "When you possess the power of a god, every single tragedy you do not personally prevent feels like blood upon your own hands. But you cannot simply act as a sword, striking blindly at every injustice you witness. Band-aid heroism only creates larger, deeper wounds."
He gestured out toward the vast, untamed expanse of Essos. "This is the natural, brutal state of the world. Men enslaving men, the strong devouring the weak. If we truly wish to end it, we cannot do it by killing a dozen riders in the dark. We must do it systemically. We must expand the borders. We must stretch the Imperial Array, and bring the absolute, unbreakable law of Rome to these lands. I am not leaving them to their means either. We are still not too far from the Imperium that legionaries cannot be deployed to seek these people out and save them."
Father ten brought out his two-way mirror "Octavian there seems to be a rather large Khalasar enslaving the villages Southwest from the border. Send the legion stationed there to investigate and rescue the enslaved ones."
"As you say father" Octavian answered before the connection was cut off.
I felt a rush of relief once I heard this.
"The Imperium is not just an empire, Hermione," Father concluded, his voice echoing with iron resolve. "It is the shield that will eventually cover this entire continent. But until that shield reaches this far west... we must endure the horrors of the dark."