GOT/ASOIAF: A Game Of Ice And Fire

Chapter 6 - Night raid

=================================

TITLE: Durrandon Baratheon (Crown Prince)

LEVEL: 10 (245/1000)

HP: 100/100

SP: 100/100

MP: 10/10*

MANA CONTROL: 93%

ALLEGIANCE: The Iron Throne

PWR: <16>

END: <17>

MOB: <18>

INT: <21>

STL: <17>

DEF: 9* (Padded Clothes)

STAT POINTS: 25

PERK POINTS: 3

SKILLS: ~open list~

PERKS: ~open list~

TIME PLAYED: 5 years

MONEY: 20,000 GOLD/ 0 SILVER/ 0 COPPER/ 1000 NC

($) MARKET

=================================

288 AC

It's quality was average, though at least better than the one I used during my venture into the magical dungeon.

By the way...

{DUE CONSTANTLY PERFORMING A SPECIAL ACTION, YOU HAVE ACQUIRED A NEW SKILL!}

{CRAFTING Lv- 1 (56%)}

Because of the winter, the castle was more silent than usual, but thanks to my resistance to the cold, it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

After cuddling Shadow, I sneaked through the secret tunnels I've found on the Red Keep and made my way out of the castle.

Casting a Minor Illusion around me aided immensely on my stealth as I made my way down Aegon's hill.

And yes, through constant grinding, I've actually eliminated the Vocal component from my cantrips.

I could still chant the words, but I didn't need to.

=================================

Making my way inside the ominous Guild, I was met with a confused pallid man with soft damp hands questioning my identity.

"What do you want, child? Can't you see this isn't a place to wander leisurely?" The Pyromamcer argued.

"Grand Master, my good man, have you already forgotten my recent visit?" I replied removing the hood and mask covering my face.

Squinting his eyes to make out who I was through the bȧrėly lit place, he finally replied. "Y-your Grace, I mean…" Immediately bowing he continued. "My Prince, forgive my previous rudeness, I wasn't expecting you to return during nighttime." He looked up. "To be honest, I wasn't expecting your return at all. You've been so silent during your first visit that I thought you had lost interest in us."

Signaling for him to rise, I explained my motives. "Quite the contrary, I simply didn't trust the men escorting me to know about the alliance I am seeking with your respectable Guild."

"Ah, I see. Very wise of you my prince. But if you'd pardon me asking, how did you make your way here? Have you walked by yourself through the streets during the night?"

I could see his doubts, after all, even if you took me by the age I appeared to have, which was around ten, wandering alone at night in a city like this was nothing short of suicidal.

"I'm resourceful." I merely replied, not having to explain myself to the man. "But I need to say, despite how respectable your Guild's reputation is, its current condition is worrisome."

"I'm afraid so, my Prince. This Guild, being older than the Citadel of Oldtown, was once powerful, though in the recent centuries, as the Maesters rose in prominence, we saw our influence dwindle. We never dared selling our vast collection of secret knowledge even to improve our working and living conditions."

"That simply won't do." I stated, surprising Hallyne with my directness. "I believe your organization requires simply a spark to bring back your former glory, mayhaps even surpassing it all together."

"That would be splendid, my Prince." The Alchemist remarked, allowing my manipulation to make him more agreeable to my eventual proposal. "I believe a simple donation would be an excellent step towards that goal."

"Not yet." I stopped him. "I would like to learn about your ways. If I'm to give my patronage, I want to know what I'm dealing with… so I can have a more realistic perception of what to expect from this alliance."

"Teach… you?" The Pyromancer widened his eyes. "B-but, my Prince… the secrets of our order… they can't be…"

I stopped him again, this time revealing my magic for the first person. "Let's exchange secrets."

Casting a Minor Illusion in the form of a small ball of green fire in the palm of my hand, I made sure to earn the old man's undying loyalty.

"I-it… it can't be!" Hallyne muttered shell shocked. "The substance?! B-but how?!"

"Magic is making its way back to the world, the seasons are clear proof of that." I revealed to him, modulating my voice to make it appear more angelic. "The world the Maesters had fought so miserably to control is about to change. Since birth, I have been gifted with these miracles. In my dreams I saw visions of the future. The ironborn rebelling only to fail, dragons rising from the East and White Walkers awaking from their long slumber in the north beyond the wall."

Having the ball of fire flicking through many colors was the cherry on top to accentuate my words.

"So it's true. That's why the production of the 'Substance' has become much more effective. The transmutation process has become much more powerful than it ever was." Giving time for the old man to recover himself and process everything I've revealed to him, he resumed his bow from before, this time having his forehead actually touching the ground. "I'm but a humble servant, henceforth your wish is my command."

Thanks to my Gamer Mind, I was able to surpass a cliche evil laughter that would've ruined the image of a magical Chosen One I've just set for myself.

"Splendid." I replied with a stoic expression. "Show me your Guild's secrets."

"At once." Hallyne declared, leading me to the Guildhall's vault.

One might be questioning why I revealed myself to the Alchemist Guild.

Thing is, they were the most available organization open to arcane studies, having endured centuries of disdain from everyone else as they remained faithful to their ways.

The small number of acolytes and apprentices, with almost none of them being younger than fifty, spoke highly of the people working here.

They were devoted to their cause.

Not that I would trust them all with my identity.

If he fails to keep our work here a secret, it will be his neck that will be at risk.

And even if he had a change of heart and betrayed me to save his life, it would be too late by them, no one would believe the famous Grand Master wasn't behind everything, much less believe that a kid born after Robert's rebellion had a hand on it.

"Here it is, my pr— I mean, your Venerable." Hallyne remarked as we came to face a massive vault.

This segment I hadn't seen in my previous visit, nor did I know of its existence.

Frankly, I was expecting just some old and dusty books in a small private library.

As the Pyromancer worked his way through the vault's door, I could only consider how advanced its mechanism looked compared to everything else, even outside the guild.

As the door rolled to the side over metallic rails, similar to a gear mechanism found in modern clocks, it reminded me of the opening of Vault from Fallout, though less mechanically advanced and more covered with weird inscriptions.

I wonder if they actually knew how to craft Valyrian Steel after all.

Facing the impressive sized selection of scrolls, Hallyne led me towards the basic knowledge all Alchemists should know before joining their Guild.

Picking up the scrolls, I noticed the inscriptions written all over it lit up at my touch, prompting the Grand Master to chuckle like a child at his birthday party.

"Yes, yes, a new age for the Alchemist Guild." Hallyne declared excitedly.

But before I could do anything, a window popped up.

{THIS SCROLL TEACHES THE SKILL 'ALCHEMY'}

{WOULD YOU LIKE TO LEARN THIS SKILL?}

[YES/NO]

I tapped yes and immediately knowledge filled my brain.

{YOU HAVE LEARNED 'ALCHEMY'!}

{ALCHEMY Lv- 1 (0%)}

Finally deciding to smile, I turned towards the Pyromancer and proceeded to blow him away by reciting recipes and discussing theoretical knowledge that should take the average guy years to even comprehend, much less memorize.

Since I didn't have the entire night to spend with him, not believing in the first place that my visit would've been that much fruitful, I simply asked for the scrolls I wasn't able to absorb and made my way out.

Of course, after handing Hallyne enough money for him to refill the Guild's storage, next time I visit they won't be lacking material to produce their Alchemical Infusions.

And not forgetting to hand him one of my Healing Potions so he and the other Alchemists could attempt to reverse engineer it for me.

All in all, an excellent first stop.

=================================

The Street of Steel was one of the oldest and most renowned sections of the crafters district.

Looking for a man named Tobho Mott, he was a Master Smith who was said to be one of the few men among the Kingdoms to know the smiting of Valyrian steel.

Soon I was reaching the end of the street and at last arrived at the largest building on the whole street.

It didn't look like a shop, more of a multistoried house if anything.

The entrance was a masterpiece for sure, the door being made of carved weirwood depicting a hunting scene with pieces of ebony detailing and reinforcing the overall door.

I immediately casted a Minor Illusion around me that would make me appear as an ȧduŀt version of myself, though not too tall to make it hard to sell the illusion.

Beside the doors were two stone knights which at a glance seemed almost life-like.

Pushing the heavy doors open, I entered the shop itself which was even more breathtaking. All around were stands and racks full of the finest weapons and armor I had seen.

Already, I was pacing slowly around the main room, closely examining each item as I moved along.

"Damn…some of these crafts…." I muttered, thinking back to the blacksmith who had crafted the steel-forged weapons at the Red Keep armory.

"Interested I see?" A male voice spoke up, making me glance to the side to see a gray bearded man dressed in a black velvet coat with fine silver hammers embroidered on the cuffs.

Around his neck was a large sapphire set on a heavy chain necklace, with the man nearing me, my OBSERVE informed me of some magical influence.

I had noticed him with my Mental map, but was completely distracted by his work.

"Indeed. Your reputation is well received considering." I answered back, offering one hand out for the man to shake firmly.

"Thank you. Tobho Mott at your service. I pride myself on my work, yet just as much credit goes to my workers and apprentices." For a moment the man looked closely at my face, a curious hint showing when he noticed my heterochromatic eyes. However, he didn't remark about them or my mismatched hair for some reason.

"Quite humble to say such a thing."

"It's a life lesson I learned. Share credit where it is properly due. The lack of such respect was a key reason why I left Qohar so long ago."

"Qohar? The city of Sorcerers?"

"You'd be right. It is often called that, considering its tradition of studying the mystical arts and knowledge. You can say my skills are unique to anyone you'll find in all the Seven Kingdoms."

The mention of magic had me give a curious look. "I take you use mystic knowledge for your crafting?"

"Heh, that is a trade secret my friend." Mott said with a small sly smile. "Yet I'm sure you didn't come to chatter. No doubt you're here on business."

I nodded. "Indeed."

Shifting to pick up my Valyrian Steel Gladius from my INVENTORY and nodding to the nearby counter while ignoring his surprised expression as I set it down.

"Wanted to have my blade inspected. Been maintaining it well enough, yet prefer an expert's examination."

Mott nodded as he'd look over the fine weapon, gaze examining the hilt and cross-guard before drawing the blade. "T-that is quite a unique weapon. Valyrian steel weapons are very one of a kind and often related to family Houses or rich individuals. In Essos, many treasure hunters are desperate enough to brave the ruins of the old empire for lost weapons. Weapons like Ice of House Stark were gifted to the family for showing loyalty to the old Targaryen rulers."

The man's eyes widened as he stared over the fine Valyrian Steel blade, being careful to set it down as if it was a priceless painting.

"By the Black Goat…how did you come to have such a weapon?" He muttered as he'd quickly had a pair of black gloves taken from his coat, putting them on as he'd begun to trace his fingers over the blades' edges and flat. "The metal purity is unlike most blades I've seen, even for Valyrian Steel standards." Picking it up again, he'd weigh it in both hands. "Very light."

However as he traced over the blade flat, he'd notice the faint inscriptions just fused into the blade.

"Runes? No, Inscriptions…Curious…symbolic or…" He'd mutter something under his breath, making my OBSERVE warn me again for a moment as the man seemed to be doing some incantation.

Nothing noticeable happened even with my OBSERVE sharp gaze watching the man closely.

Mott finished his examination, glancing back at me with an intense look. "Tell me. Who are you and where did you get this sword?"

"It's a long story, good sir." I started, yet Hott clapped his hands sharply.

Quickly a slim servant girl hurried out from a side room and courtesy to the both.

"Prepare the sitting room for us. Brandy and spiced bread." The smith calmly stated.

The girl nodded and hurried off without a word before Hott looked back at me. "Please, follow me sir…?"

"Durran." I stored my sword again and followed along as Hott led him into parlor study.

My sharp OBSERVE looked over a few books, finding them quite curious since the topics seemed to involve more magical topics and lore.

"Durran…can't say I've heard of you though." Mott muttered as he sat in his armchair. "All I can say is that you're the most unique guest I've had in a very long time."

At this point I sat down across from him, setting myself as I relaxed back.

"How did a dual eyed man, capable of performing magic, come to own a blade that is so similar to Dawn? I mean, safe for its size."

I recognized the name Dawn to be the legendary sword of Arthur Dayne, a great sword forged from a fallen star the House had discovered.

"Because I had found it that way, exploring some magical dungeons. Not sure if this land even has anything like it… I mean, other than this one." I finished by retrieving both swords at the same time from my INVENTORY.

Mott gasped noticing the other twin sword.

By then the servant girl returned with drinks and fresh bread for the two, setting it down at the table before leaving without a word.

"I would like to know more about you. You're not like any Knight or Sellsword I've met before…"

For a moment I didn't answer as he glanced at the brandy, picking the bottle up and filling both cups.

"Not sure if I should tell you. Sort of a personal story." I muttered.

"Then in my honor as a Master Smith and under the dark gaze of the Black Goat, I swear to guard whatever secrets you share with me. None will hear a word beyond this room." The man said in a calm, serious tone, hand raised and fingers set in a gesture of some kind.

I wasn't sure if the man truly had magic about him, despite all the signs pointing otherwise.

At best, his magic was on a basic level to what I knew, similar to the Alchemists, yet it no doubt gave the man an edge with his work.

"Very well then…" Picking up my cup, I'd take a drink and give a small sigh downing the strong liquor, dispelling my Minor Illusion. "So let's get to the point, I'm not from here…from this world I mean…"

Thanks to Thoros being an irresponsible ȧduŀt, I had gained some resistance to poisons like alcohol, making me capable of holding my drink and not embarrass myself in situations like this.

…

The time went by quickly as me and Mott chatted, with me detailing my story and history from birth.

Well, at least a more believable version of it that benefited my image as a Magical Messiah.

The Master Smith was quiet and respectful, only speaking when he had a simple question to ask.

He showed no doubt even on the most fantastical elements such as White Walkers and Dragons.

Perhaps the man did believe in such things, considering the city he had been raised in.

"Amazing…I remembered some lectures back home in Qohor. Theories on worlds beyond the stars." The smith muttered as he set his cup down. "Your tale explains everything. The reason your swords are made of such exotic and strong material along with the inscriptions strengthening it to an even greater degree." Sighing, he'd lean back in his seat. "Ah I'd trade everything just to aid you with your adventure through these fantastical worlds of yours and learn their crafting secrets."

"Heh, willing to trade that much for knowledge?" I chuckled as I finished my drink.

"In Qohor, sacrifice is everything there. Equivalent exchange if you will."

"Huh…remember some young alchemist back home saying something like that. Can't remember who though." I shrugged with a smirk. "Sad to say there isn't any boat that can take us to those other worlds, yet. Still, I may have an alternative means to get what you seek."

"Oh? A trade? Quite the offer, yet what would you want in return?"

"An alliance." I proposed. "I want blueprints, lessons about crafting armor and weapons that only a master like yourself can make. I'm even interested in learning how to reforge Valyrian Steel."

Mott thought for a moment.

"Valyrian Steel can indeed be reforged, yet it's a complicated process to ensure the metal keeps its unbreakable strength and strong edge. Luckily, I'm one of few known individuals on the continent with such skills. I think only a handful of Maesters who have dedicated themselves to mystic studies and forging can describe the process, much less perform it."

"Very interesting. Anyway, I'll be sure to have you examine every loot I got my hands on. Besides that, I'd like to have regular training with the Blacksmith arts. I've learned basically everything there is about literature study of smithing, the Grand Maester even suggested that I could earn a chain link if I ever decided to take their vows."

"That sounds fair to me. I could certainly make use of such an interesting apprentice."

The two of us firmly shook hands to seal the deal before we got out of their seats.

"Anyway, it has been nice talking with you, Mott. I'll be sure to return tomorrow, during the daytime." I said casting again Minor Illusion, disguising me again as an ȧduŀt version of me.

"It's been a pŀėȧsurė, my Prince. Until then."

The Master Smith escorted me out of his lavish store and home.

Once the heavy doors were closed and locked behind me, I began the long walk back down the Street of Steel.

Half the night had just passed by chatting with Mott yet I felt I had gained another useful ally.

=================================

Approaching my next destination very carefully, using an unobtrusive path and covering as far as I could while crouching over the rooftops, all to avoid the open streets.

The building was on the Street of Silk, just north of the Dragonpit, I knew.

But when I got there, I didn't know which house was right, there were few name plates hanging on the buildings around here.

Recalling my understanding of the city finally paid off, leading me to a place with a somber and fort-like facade, such as several of the city's solemn buildings, but when I entered, I was surprised.

It wasn't quite what I had expected, finding myself in a large, richly decorated, high-ceilinged room, two stories tall with a stone ground floor and a timber upper floor, with many of its windows being leaded.

Over the door swings an ornate lamp of gilded metal and scarlet glass, lit by candles with the smell of incense and exotic spice hanging in the air.

Dark red and brown velvet tapestries lined the walls, interspersed with oriental tapestries that depicted scenes of sėxuȧŀ pŀėȧsurė and unmistakable luxury.

One in specific displayed a mosaic of two women entwined in love.

The furniture consisted mainly of couches covered with expensive brocade pillows and low tables on which were trays with silver jars filled with wine, gold bowls of sweets, Myrish glasses carved with flowers, fancies, and dreaming maidens.

The common room had a cushioned alcove and a leaded colored glass window where moonlight poured through.

An older man played his pipe, and girls played tiles, reproducing in conjunction a sweet melody.

But most surprising were the people in the room.

There were a dozen beautiful girls dressed in dresses of green and yellow silk and satin cut summer islander style, with their skirts being well above the knee and whose necklines left nothing to the imagination but the promise of where not to venture.

Around three of the walls of the room, under the tapestries, it was possible to see several doors.

An elegant woman who must have been about twenty but looked very well developed, being as beautiful as any princess and better dressed than most, she walked from the middle of the room to meet me.

There was a certain mirth in her eyes, which somehow added to the sėxuȧŀ charge she conveyed, and I, despite everything else that occupied my mind, found myself aroused.

Being a tall, black woman with sandalwood eyes, which was very characteristic from the Summer Isles.

She held out her hand with long, bejeweled fingers, looking at me approvingly. "It's a pŀėȧsurė to meet you, dear customer." Her voice was smooth, with the same accent Jalabar Xho had.

"I appreciate your warm welcome, my lady."

"Please call me Chataya."

I bowed in acknowledgement, prompting her to smile at my gesture.

"My my, such good manners. I knew from the way you moved that you weren't someone with a simple background, but now you've made me curious. Most of my customers hold high positions in the city government, but none have shown the same level of respect as you do."

"Only a fool would behave poorly in the presence of such an illustrious host." I replied with a gentle smile. "Though like you, I must admit my surprise. I've been misinformed with descriptions that don't make justice to your establishment. I wonder if this is really the place."

The woman laughed. "Obviously! But, as you can see, it is quite different from any brothel you might find anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms!"

She led me to a sofa and sat down beside me.

"So, what brought you here? After a woman to warm your bed I presume?" Chataya questioned very professionally. "I have several girls who might suit your needs. And I'm sure you will find that they are all as sweet as they are beautiful, and skilled in every art of love."

"As much as I appreciate the offer, that isn't the reason why I've come." I replied with my seductive expression.

"It isn't?" She showed a hint of surprise. "Then how can I help you?"

Another curious gimmick I found exploring my inventory was that, whenever I retrieve any quantity of money, the currency in specific always came out wrapped in an appropriate sized medieval styled purse.

Taking advantage of that, I managed to surprise her again by dropping a purse filled with Golden Dragons, which certainly wasn't a quantity she could ignore.

"For now, I would like to have a private conversation with you." I added, leaving the heavy purse over a nearby table.

Gotta give credit to Chataya, despite both of us knowing that it was a pretty hefty amount of money that I had just casually handed, she remained very professional.

Most people would've moved to take the money without caring about appearances or etiquette.

But not her.

"Very well…" She replied standing up while commanding another girl, who looked very similar to her yet even more younger, to secure the quantity I had just offered. "…please follow me."

A brief use of my OBSERVE skill showed that the girl resembling Chataya was actually her own daughter, Alayaya.

A beautiful young Summer Islander, with skin as smooth and black as polished jet, and wide dark eyes, although not as tall as her own mother.

She was dressed in flowing silks, cinched at the waist with a beaded belt.

As Chataya led me to a round turret that rises from one corner of the house, the turret room located up two flights of stairs from the ground floor, then down a long hall and up another stair to a lone door which opened to the turret room.

Within the room, a great canopied bed, a tall wardrobe decorated with ėrȯtɨċ carvings, and a narrow window of leaded glass in a pattern of red and yellow diamonds were found.

This clearly was an area reserved to her VIP clients.

"So, what is it you've been meaning to speak with me?" Chataya asked while signaling for me to make myself comfortable.

"Let's just say I'm someone who is very interested in the quality of your work, with enough funds to help you succeed at a much larger scale." I replied, taking a seat on a very comfortable wing chair, and revealing my real form, to her brief surprise. "For that to happen, I would like to build a partnership with you and your business here in King's Landing."

"Very well…" She moved to stand behind me and began massaging my small yet muscular shoulders. She was actually attempting to seduce me. "It's quite the offer you are making, but yet what would you want in return? Besides a share of my profits that is."

"I would like to learn how to please a woman." I finally revealed, no longer caring for subtlety.

"Deal." She replied without even considering.

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Won't you even question why I would request such a thing?"

Chataya gave a delicate laugh. "My people hold that there is no shame to be found in the pillow house. In the Summer Isles, those who are skilled at giving pŀėȧsurė are greatly esteemed. Many highborn youths and maidens serve for a few years after their flowerings, to honor the gods."

"I've heard that you are also a follower of Faith of the Seven, despite being from a foreign land." I was a little curious. "Don't you think that your line of work conflicts with it?"

"I've accepted the Westerossi religion as mine, it's true. But you know what they say, old habits die hard." She replied, not caring how weird it was for a young woman like her to be saying phrases like that. "Regardless of the religion, the Gods made our bodies as well as our souls, is it not so? They gave us voices, so we might worship them with songs. They gave us hands, so we might build them temples. And they gave us dėsɨrė, so we might mate and worship them in that way."

"Well said." I acknowledged her reason. "You know what, I think you just gave me another idea about how we should boost your business."

"Tell me about it later then." Chataya said with a sultry smile. "For now, your lessons about the art of love start now. Though I must admit you are the youngest I've ever laid with, not to mention capable of performing miracles."

After that, I could only accept my terrible fate in the hands of this beautiful woman and work hard through her instructions to give her pŀėȧsurė.

I've only wished to learn enough about sėx so I might eventually pull a Podrick Payne and have sėx for free.

If I knew where this path would've led me, I would've taken it again in a heartbeat.

…

{QUEST COMPLETED: GET LAID}

{KAMA SUTRA BOOK OBTAINED}

Hello there, long time no see!

Had forgotten about you already.

Kama fuċkɨnġ sutra?

Ok, sure, why not?

…

After making out with the Summer Islander beauty named Chataya, she complimented my enthusiasm and said that I was naturally gifted for a vɨrġɨn.

Silly her.

After that, with me telling her that I had to leave, she informed me of a secret passage connected to her room through the back panel behind an empty wardrobe.

When the back panel was pushed aside it revealed a metal ladder whose rungs went well below street level.

The shaft then opened onto a dark, slanting earthen tunnel.

Having come perhaps a distance of three blocks under the Hill of Rhaenys, then emerging through a trapdoor at the back of a nearby stable.

Perfect for making my lessons more practical.

But the night was still young.

=================================

My parkour skill wouldn't have been enough if not for my childish body and above average strength.

Climbing up Rhaenys' hill to the Dragonpit, I got there after traveling along the Street of the Sisters.

As some of my history lessons had explained to me, this hill was named from very early on, but the Dragonpit was a slightly later addition.

Or replacement in fact.

Another sept was built here, the sept of remembrance for Rhaenys herself.

Her death was recorded to be nine years after the invasion of Westeros, during the Targaryens second failed attempt in conquering Dorne.

The old sept was by all accounts an impressive building, but it lasted only until the reign of her nephew.

The one famous for being cruel.

It's actually easy to forget how bloody those first years of Targaryen rule were like.

At that time, the militant faith had risen and the rebellious Warrior's sons had taken to using the sept of remembrance as their headquarters.

One morning, as several hundred of them knelt in morning prayer, King Maegor rode Balerion overhead and raised the sept to the ground with dragon fire.

With that part of the rebellion dealt in typically uncompromising style, he did the same with the original sept in Visenya's hill.

Later, he ordered the construction of the Dragonpit as a permanent home for the royal dragons.

Some books had also noted with some wry amusement that the King had found this a harder task than he might have initially thought.

As I've already recalled, just before that event, the King had ordered the murder of all the artisans who had worked on his last great building project, the Red Keep.

Understandably, there was a delay while his advisors scoured the land for more builders and architects who were willing to take the chance that he wouldn't do the same thing again this time.

But nevertheless, the Dragonpit was built.

As I continued to stealthily climb the hill I noticed that the Dragonpit was not well named.

It isn't, and never was, a pit.

Although it's clearly in ruins, it was once a huge domed edifice, breathtaking in its scale.

Walking around it now, I could still see the remains of the dome, charred and blackened.

And the huge windows that, as the stories used to say, one could see lit up at night by the glow of dragons inside.

I could see the huge bronze and iron doors that formed the entrance to the pit, now lying close and having been like that for more than a century now.

But the scale was undoubtedly something to behold.

I estimate that thirty knights could ride side by side through those gates, or perhaps one dragon the size of Balerion the dread.

Squeezing through one of its gaps, I made my way in.

Inside it resembled a stable... but for dragons.

Underneath the main arena-like sandy surface, I count forty vaults, their purpose being probably to shelter forty dragons to nest here.

Not that the Dragonpit has ever held forty dragons, or so I remembered from my studies.

To my best understanding, it was about twenty, the highest number to ever occupy it.

I remember that it was by the time of King Viserys the First reign, just before the dance of the dragons, and as most people were aware, dragons suck at dancing.

So much that their first and only dance was regarded as the end of the dragons.

Three or four might have survived, but within a couple of decades, they became just a memory.

And so faded the glory and fearful reputation of the Dragonpit, because at that time, it indeed inspired fear amongst the smallfolk.

They knew what dragons were capable of.

But the mother of ironies was that it was finally destroyed as a result of this fear and by the dragons themselves.

During the long civil war among the Targaryens, the Dragonpit was stormed by the smallfolk of King's Landing, inspired by the ravings of the religious zealot known as the shepherd, determined to have them rid themselves of the threat of dragons...

Whatever the cost might be.

Tens of thousands of them descended on the Dragonpit, to find four dragons nesting there.

They broke in through the windows and smaller doors, relying on sheer weight of numbers to overwhelm their massive opponents.

I would consider that impressive if not for the inefficiency of that strategy.

The dragons were chained down and constricted by the space in the pit, so they resorted to using their claws and fangs and dragon fire.

Casualties among the smallfolk ran into hundreds or even thousands, but eventually, one by one, they took the dragons down.

Dreamfyre was the last one to die.

It did manage to get rid of its chains, but in a desperate attempt to escape, smashed into the domed ceiling and brought it crashing down on itself and everyone else there.

But the smallfolk of King's Landing had been victorious and the Dragonpit was left as a smoking ruin with the dead being piled high.

Its last use was found during the great spring sickness, where it was used as a place used to store the bodies of the dead for when a tenth of King's Landing residents died.

And once it was over, flames were once more seen reaching high into the sky over it, as if the King's hand had used wildfire to destroy the bodies.

Now, as I inspected it, it was silent, empty and still.

That isn't to say that people didn't use it.

I've heard rumors that some of the less morally upright citizens used it as a place for nighttime ȧssignments and meetings.

If it is so, that's perhaps poetic justice.

The Dragonpit loomed over the flea bottom for decades, a monument to authoritarian power.

Even as flea bottom's ramshackle houses had started to encroach their way up the south side of Rhaenys' hill, it was the action of the smallfolk that led to destruction of the pit, so perhaps one might find it only right that they should now have ownership over it.

I was disappointed with my first stop.

If there was any valuable loot here, the years had made sure to have it either pillaged or scavenged by the locals.

And if there were any Wildfire jars hidden underneath it after Aerys plotted to destroy the city, I hadn't found any access to it after spending a while casting OBSERVE and inspecting my mental Minimap.

Note to myself: Need to have Hallyne and his Alchemists retrieve all the lost jars of Wildfire before any of them explodes, and add some of them to my INVENTORY as a last resort weapon.

So, it is to that slum named Flea Bottom that I made my next destination, making my way out of this ruin into that labyrinthine squalor.

If from up here I turned my gaze to the north and west of the city, I would've noticed some of the finest houses in King's Landing, spacious, airy and well-to-do.

But if instead I turn to look at the south, squashed into the shadow of the Dragonpit and creeping up the side of the hill and extending as far as the Street of Flowers, I could catch sight of Flea Bottom.

Have I already stated that it was a slum?

I don't care, it really is.

Anyways, there were no paved streets here, and after dark, the Gold Cloaks rarely patrolled this region of the city.

And with the houses cramped so closely in one another, often nearly touching above my head as I traverse in any way, the moonlight struggled to make its way in, leaving the heart of this area in a often continual state of gloom.

And if the stench in King's Landing as a general could be terrible, Flea Bottom was its epicenter.

Here butchered pigs and, to be completely blunt, human excrement could be found on the sides of the narrow pathways through the ramshackle buildings.

But this only served to cover up the ever present stale smell of taverns, whore houses and... another smell that hangs in the air.

If there was one thing that I didn't care to learn about Flea Bottom was its local delicacy, if that's the appropriate word for it.

And it almost certainly isn't.

A bowl of brown.

Though it is peculiar to the rest of the city, the quality and contents were not dissimilar to what was found across the Seven Kingdoms, consumed by the smallfolk who could not afford any better.

Soon after beginning my venture into Flea Bottom, I found numerous pot shops along the side of whichever alley I walk through.

Of course, at this time all of them were close.

They were so called for the large pot of stew they supposedly serve.

Here, I was expecting to eventually find either Davos visiting his past home or a still young Gendry roaming around before working for Tobho Mott.

Perhaps here in the darkest squalor of King's Landing, I could acquire a strong support base in its people, after all, if you've seen one city slum, you've seen them all.

But that's just how the saying goes, and those were plans for the future anyways.

=================================

I stopped myself in an alley, the place in itself was unpleasant, but what made things worse was the smell of Rancid Shit and other filth.

Must have raised my POISON RESISTANCE skill once or twice since I got here.

Inspecting my skill list...

{BLADED WEAPONS MASTERY Lv- 16 (78%)}

Conjuring my INVENTORY, the familiar window with boxes showing my belongings and also a diagram of myself and what I was wearing immediately popped up.

Wow, I dig the look.

After using OBSERVE on some items and remembering another discovery I had made weeks ago, after carefully inspecting what else I could get from eating and drinking.

I was willing to waste my valuable potions or the possibility of fainting mid battle.

{25x FULL WATER SKIN: RESTORES 25 SP - 2 USES EACH.}

{15x SALTED PORK: RESTORES 15 HP - 1 USE EACH.}

Before closing out my INVENTORY, I looked at the money counter, having yet to collect anything else other than Gold and Nexus Coins.

I knew that there were 7 copper stars to a silver stag, and 210 stags to a golden dragon, but didn't know how to get myself some change for less costly transactions.

Before I could continue on my way, I was hit with a window.

{A QUEST HAS BEEN CREATED!}

{EXPLORE THE GUTTER!}

{MAIN OBJECTIVE: COMPLETE YOUR TOUR AROUND FLEA BOTTOM IN ONE PIECE.}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 1: DEFEAT 10 REGULAR BANDITS.}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 2: DEFEAT A BANDIT LEADER.}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 3: DON'T GET CAUGHT BY THE GOLD CLOAKS.}

{MAIN OBJECTIVE REWARD: 500XP, 500 COPPER.}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 1 REWARD: 200XP, 100 SILVER.}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 2 REWARD: 250XP, 200 SILVER + RANDOM LOOT}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 3 REWARD: 50XP, 50 SILVER.}

{FAILURE: POSSIBLE DEATH, INJURY, OR IMPRISONMENT.}

{DO YOU ACCEPT?}

[YES/NO]

"Yes." I concluded succinctly before accepting the quest.

As I made my way through the winding alleys of Flea Bottom under stealth, as always, opting to do this the smart way.

Stealth killing as many bandits as possible would be my best tactic, as I got the hang of Sneak Attacks.

I may be well trained, but even I don't want to face 10 to 1 odds at my current level, especially against anything smarter than an undead.

Creeping past discarded crates and rubbish piles, eagerly attempting to get the drop on any bandits in the area, I crouched down behind a pile of rubbish.

I could see a pair of individuals blocking the mouth of this alley and immediately used OBSERVE on them.

{BOLTER - GUTTER BANDIT.}

LEVEL 19

POW: 21

END: 19

MOB: 20

INT: 12

STL: 15

DEF: 15* (Worn Out Rivited Mail Armor)

{Bandits rove in gangs and are sometimes led by thugs and veterans. Not all bandits are evil. Oppression, drought, disease, or famine can often drive otherwise honest folk to a life of banditry. This Burly Brute carries around a large mallet for tenderizing meat and breaking bones. Beware his powerful strikes. Bolter is an orphan that was raised as a criminal. He frequently fights in the fighting pits in Flea Bottom.}

{RAFRE - GUTTER BANDIT SKULKER}

LEVEL: 17

POW: 19

END: 16

MOB: 20

INT: 13

STL: 20

DEF: 13* (Worn Out Padded Armor)

{Bandits rove in gangs and are sometimes led by thugs and veterans. Not all bandits are evil. Oppression, drought, disease, or famine can often drive otherwise honest folk to a life of banditry. This agile thief carries a pair of daggers, beware his speed. Rafre is an orphan and bastard of a hedge knight with a common whore. He steals and kills for pŀėȧsurė and necessity.}

Well, a strong bandit and a fast bandit.

Quickly a plan began forming in my mind.

This wasn't ideal, in theory they could cover each other's weaknesses if they fought together, so I need to separate them.

Casting a combination of both Minor Illusion and Thaumaturgy across the alley, it manifested as a group of seated women drinking and laughing close to a building on the far side of the alley.

"What was that?" Snickered the Strong bandit. "Can't believe how lucky we got tonight."

"No kidding. But finish the job first, I'll go see if the girls wanna join us." Ordered back the second bandit. "They could be someone worth the money."

I began to make my way back towards where the Illusion had manifested.

Let's see if I can finish this quickly.

As the bandit reached the location of the drunken women, I lunged from my advantage point with my special swords immediately piercing him through the torso with a double thrust.

Seeing no message of my target's Health Bar drooping, I was worried for a second.

But my sharp blades kept their momentum and sliced through the bandit as if he was made of buŧŧer, the pieces of the men fell into the dirty ground.

Guess Valyrian Steel is overkill against these petty criminals afterall.

As I looked to the ground, I noticed a growing pool of blood.

Swiftly cleaning the mess with Thaumaturgy before dragging the body parts behind the refuse pile, I relieved the Bandit of his Purse, which had all of 2 silver coins and 6 copper coins.

The money automatically entered my INVENTORY, which was really handy.

Of course in the time that it took, the Brute bandit began to get suspicious and walked down the alley. "What the Seven Hells is taking you so long? I've already finished the job." He called out not finding any sign of blood.

Taking the opportunity, I quickly leaped out from behind the rubbish pile and shot an Eldritch Blast at his neck before he could raise an alarm.

Instead of puncturing a small hole on his neck or blasting him away with a strong pull, the beam actually exploded the man's head, leaving his headless body crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut.

Overkill again, if not too loud.

Though this time I had to grind my cantrip to make it that deadly.

After recovering from the surprise, I cleaned and dragged the corpse behind the rubbish pile, relieving the body of its purse for 1 silver stag before continuing on my way under stealth once again.

Ducking into an alley across the road in the general direction of the Red Keep, along the way I ran into two more Strong Bandits patrolling the alley and a quick bandit standing on a corner.

After a brief OBSERVE of their background story, making sure they weren't relevant, I proceeded with my quest.

The Strong bandits were dispatched with Eldritch Blasts while my use of Thaumaturgy managed to spook the Quick bandit into believing that creepy whispers were haunting the alley.

I kept my training in stealth and finished the poor soul with a simple swipe of my short sword.

About ten minutes into my incursion excursion, my Stealth had leveled up twice and the Bladed Weapon Mastery had leveled up once.

It was then that things took an interesting turn, there was a wide plaza between my location and the next alley with two strong bandits and two quick bandits guarding what looked like an overturned cart.

I could see a merchant with his throat cut lying in a pool of blood at their feet, the man had probably gotten lost and ended up in Flea Bottom, refusing to pay off these bandits only to be murdered.

It was then that I discovered that my OBSERVE skill also worked on dead bodies.

Reaching into my INVENTORY, I pulled out my prized short swords and dual wielded them.

It wasn't as awkward as before thanks to my nightly training, and that would presumably get better as soon as I kept leveling up the skill.

Walking out into the plaza while carefully inspecting my Minimap, I attempted to rush the group while they were ransacking the cart, but it seemed that I've finally overestimated my stealth stat as one of the Quick bandits spotted me sprinting.

Having warned the two Strong bandits, they rushed to meet my disguised figure while the Quick bandits spread out to try and flank me.

At least this is going to be interesting.

Activating the maddening whisper all around the plaza, I managed to considerably lower my enemies' focus and resolve.

A neat side effect of using my Minor Illusion or Thaumaturgy.

The game described it as Psychic Damage.

Which damages the mind directly with the ability to use pure mind energy to harm another creature's mind.

If I was to contextualize this damage it would be like being able to instantly give someone the worst migraine of their life.

Ducking under a swipe from the mattock of one of the strong bandits and slicing a cut with my right sword at the brute's front leg, not even the criminal's parry manage to slow down my slash.

I began to dance out of the way of the following strikes from the other bandits as their weapons came swinging into where I had previously been.

A minor illusion made a small cloud of smoke surround my body, aiding me to spin around and to lash out with my Valyrian Steel gladius in a flurry of attacks at the Quick bandits, who were still attempting to strike me down.

As I danced to the left and to the right, the remaining men were beginning to panic.

{BLADED WEAPON MASTERY HAS LEVELED UP!}

Again?!

Excellent!

Rolling to a stop with my swords burying themselves in a bandit's ċhėst while the other fell to the ground after a few shallow cuts on his legs.

The two Strong Bandits decided to run in terror from my small dark figure.

But to finish them, I casted my trusted evocation cantrip, shooting it through the first man's spine.

My mind registered the kill as the second bandit was about to turn the corner into another alley.

A simple Minor Illusion was enough to scare the shit out of him, before him, out of nowhere, my scary dark figure appeared.

The man turned around twice before noticing he was somehow surrounded.

Making him curl in on himself in shock and crying in agony, before being slayed like a dog.

The fourth and last bandit, raised from the ground howling as he saw his friends die one by one, rushing with his daggers in a mad attempt of ending his suffering.

I bȧrėly ducked aside from the attack before spinning around with a side swing that cut through the desperate man's knees.

But the man kept his desperate attempt at hurting me however he could.

Apparently despair made someone resistant to pain…

Go figure.

However a surprise use of the bandit's light crossbow caused me to widen my eyes and my grip over my short swords to falter for an instant.

The bolt punctured my ċhėst, exactly where my heart should be.

{CRITICAL HIT! -80 HP}

But my shock vanished instantly, just in time to bȧrėly dodge the second and last projectile as it just grazed my neck.

{-5HP}

Thanks Gamer Mind! You just saved my life!

The bandit, now completely unarmed, began to feel the pain from being swiftly crippled.

As the man agonized, I removed the bolt from my ċhėst, losing a few more health points in the process and stabbed it on the bandit's neck, then breaking it with a swift twist, attempting to decapitate the bandit while enjoying the cracking noises from the lowly thug's cervical spine.

As the man's body became lifeless, a window popped.

{LEVEL UP!}

Nice.

Dismissing the various windows I retrieved the bolt and relieved all the dead bandits of their purses for a total of 21 Silver Coins, then relieved the merchant of his purse for a total of 80 Silver Stags!

Looking at the cart, I could now see that it was a silk merchant, no wonder the bandits had cut his throat.

The blood and muck of the streets and rough handling of the bandits had fouled the finished ware, making it less valuable if not for…

Thaumaturgy.

After cleaning everything, I used OBSERVE on the items.

{BOLTS OF SILK CLOTH - CRAFTING INGREDIENTS}

That could be worth something.

Picking up the rolled up bolt of silk and stuffed it into my INVENTORY and ate something to replenish my HP before moving onto the next alley.

It was smooth sailing for another five minutes with only a few Quick Bandits on patrol, until I noticed someone entering my Minimap reach and heard a rough voice say.

"You there boy, what in the seven hells is wrong with you? Only a mad man would dress like that in here." Someone shouted. "Do you know who I am, I'm a fuċkɨnġ legend here! I'll carve you up if you don't give me all of your belongings."

As I turned my face to OBSERVE my new opponent.

{MARLOCK - BANDIT LEADER}

LEVEL: 23

POW: 25

END: 18

MOB: 20

INT: 16

STL: 24

DEF: 18* (Mail Armor)

{It takes a strong personality, ruthless cunning, and a Silver Tongue to keep a gang of bandits in line. The Bandit Leader has these qualities in spades. To keep the crew in line, the captain must mete out Rewards and punishment on a regular basis. More than Treasure, a Bandit Leader craves Infamy. A prisoner who appeals to the captain's vanity or ego is more likely to be treated fairly than a prisoner who does not or claims not to know anything of the captain's colorful reputation. Marlock is an expert dirty fighter and is good with both knives and axes. His treacherous nature makes for a fearsome opponent. He once was...

Alright, I don't care for his entire backstory.

Seeing my disguised figure not obeying his command, he charged, axe coming in high, knife coming in low.

I was forced to give ground, not able to parry both at once while still drawing my swords, only to have to jump over the Bandit Leader's attempt of tripping me as I backpedaled.

Evaded a swipe of the Bandit's axe only for his knife to almost poke out my left eye, having bȧrėly leaned out of the way in time.

Some cuts were already appearing all around my body, nothing Mending could resolve.

Thankfully, my opponent's weapons weren't poisoned, that would certainly be a pain to deal with mid combat.

In my hurry, I picked from my inventory a pair of iron daggers.

As they in an instant stood there in the clinch, weapons locked, Marlock attempted to knee me in the groin, which I blocked with my leg, resulting in the Bandits bowling me over as I hit the cobblestones.

Hard.

{HP: 45/100}

I immediately had to roll to avoid a curbstomp and struck out with one of the daggers I've picked from my INVENTORY, which only managed to graze the man as he rolled out of the majority swipes of the blade, and came in with a cut to my face that almost took my right eye out.

{-20 HP}

{HP: 25/100}

"Enough!" I shouted with Thaumaturgy bolstering my voice.

As the bandit leader staggered, I immediately counterattacked with a kick to the man's groin.

While the man staggered, I casted a Minor Illusion around myself.

Now looking like an ȧduŀt as a hood continued to hide my features.

I was finally allowed to pick out my short swords and struck the man, chopping off his arms.

Marlock attempted to pull back while screaming in pain, only to fail and get impaled on the belly.

In a swift move, I cleaved the bandit's upper body from its lower part as he attempted to headbutt me, and a Power Strike stomp was enough to shatter Marlock's head against the floor of the alley.

Scratching my foot to get rid of the bloody mess I've made before casting Thaumaturgy, I began to walk away from that spot.

I was panting.

{SP: 5/100}

{THROUGH SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES, SOME STATS HAVE LEVELED UP!}

Damn that was stupidly close.

After refilling my health and stamina with drinking and eating, my injuries were completely healed, only my clothes served as a reminder that I was attacked.

But a simple Mending was more than enough to repair my self made suit.

Relieving Marlocks's purse from him and acquiring 10 SILVER COINS and 60 COPPER COINS.

Not that much huh…

Well, it's not like I needed money anyways.

I'm filthy rich.

The small change was actually what I needed right now.

Sorry bastards, you are not taking the black.

Not on my watch.

After that last encounter, I walked for another ten minutes before I ran into a Gold Cloak Patrol near where Fleabottom began to fade and the Merchant Quarter began to come in.

Remembering to avoid the watchmen, I sneaked away, walking past a few wretches and guttersnipes minding their own business.

And soon enough, I eventually left the slum.

{QUEST COMPLETED: ESCAPE FROM THE GUTTER!}

{MAIN OBJECTIVE: COMPLETE YOUR TOUR OF FLEA BOTTOM IN ONE PIECE: COMPLETED - 500 XP AND 10 SILVER COINS OBTAINED!}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 1: DEFEAT 10 BANDITS: COMPLETED - 200 XP AND 12 SILVER COINS OBTAINED!}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 2: DEFEAT BANDIT LEADER: COMPLETED - 250 XP, 20 SILVER STAGS AND SKILL BOOK OBTAINED!}

{ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE 3: DON'T GET CAUGHT BY THE GOLD CLOAKS: COMPLETED - 50XP, 5 SILVER COINS OBTAINED!}

{YOUR LEVEL HAS INCREASED!}

As I walked off through the way I came from the Red Keep, I ducked into a nearby corner and pulled out the Skill Book.

{THIS BOOK TEACHES THE SKILL 'DIRTY FIGHTING MASTERY'}

{WOULD YOU LIKE TO LEARN THIS SKILL?}

[YES/NO]

I tapped yes and immediately knowledge filled my brain.

{YOU HAVE LEARNED DIRTY FIGHTING MASTERY!}

{DIRTY FIGHTING MASTERY Lv- 1 (0%)}

I had also gained levels in that quest and thus had a lot of points to spend, but would settle it after reaching my chamber for a shower and a good rest.

=================================

TITLE: Durrandon Baratheon (Crown Prince)

LEVEL: 11 (400/1100)

HP: 110/110

SP: 110/110

MP: 11/11*

MANA CONTROL: 97%

ALLEGIANCE: The Iron Throne

PWR: <16>

END: <17>

MOB: <18>

INT: <21>