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13: Dragonborn Conqueror, It's a Miracle
🕑 Added 2024-10-13 22:01:19 +0000 UTC“There’s your man,” Jonnel said, pointing at a figure near the entrance of the town. The man stood away from a patrol of guards, looking around as if waiting for someone.
Harald, who wore a cloak to conceal his armor, followed Jonnel's gesture. The night was dark, heavy clouds covering the moon and leaving the streets of Fairmarket and the surroundings cloaked in shadows.
"Yes, that’s Chett," Harald said, his eyes narrowing as he began walking toward him.
They had found the camp where the remaining Blantree men were staying just outside of town and learned that Leobald had taken Chett, Brannik, and young Willem into Fairmarket to scout as instructed. Harald and Jonnel decided to proceed alone into the town, leaving the Blackwood men in the camp.
"Harald!" Chett called softly when he spotted them approaching.
Harald nodded a greeting as they neared. "Chett."
"We've been staying at the sept here. We’ve done what you asked," Chett said, keeping his voice low.
"Good," Harald said. "That will make things easier." He glanced at Jonnel, who gave him a firm nod. "Let’s go to this sept, then."
Chett nodded and led them onward, carefully avoiding patrols as they wove through the narrow streets. They kept to the alleys and took advantage of the deep shadows wherever possible.
They reached the sept, and Jonnel slipped inside first, while Harald held back, exchanging words with Chett.
"Any trouble?" Harald asked, his voice a mere whisper as he adjusted his cloak.
Chett shook his head. "Leobald was a great help," he answered.
Before Harald could question him further, he heard frantic words from within the sept.
"Where is Harald?" It was Leobald's voice, laced with urgency. "He is needed, quickly."
Harald frowned, giving Chett a nod to follow as they entered.
Inside, the sept was dimly lit with flickering candles that cast dancing shadows along the stone walls. Jonnel stood near the doorway, alongside two women, and further inside, Harald could see Leobald standing with an older septon. The older man, who looked haggard and worn, stared at Harald with curiosity and desperation.
"Why the long faces?" Harald asked with a smile, trying to lighten the tension that seemed to fill the room.
Leobald walked towards Harald, looking visibly relieved at his presence. "Harald," Leobald said, his voice almost breathless, "we need your help."
Harald’s smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "What is it, Leobald?" he asked.
Before Leobald could answer, the older septon stepped forward. His eyes, hollow and tired, were fixed on Harald. "My name is Ryam… Leobald tells me you were sent by the gods," Ryam said. The septas behind him widened their eyes in shock at the statement.
Ryam’s gaze shifted, full of desperate pleading. "Please," he continued, "help Tommen. He is dying… He was cruelly attacked by the heathen Ironborn."
Harald’s expression changed instantly, any questions he might have fading from his mind. He simply nodded and asked, "Where is he?"
"Follow me," Leobald said, turning quickly. Harald followed, with Ryam, Jonnel, Chett, and the two septas trailing behind them through a narrow hallway that opened into a small chamber.
The room was dimly lit by a single flickering candle, and on a small bed lay the frail form of Tommen. The boy looked half-dead, his skin a pallid shade with bruises covering his face and arms. His breathing was shallow, each breath strained and weak.
Harald moved to the boy’s side, kneeling beside the bed. He examined the child carefully, assessing the extent of his injuries. Tommen’s condition was dire.
Without a word, Harald raised his hands above the boy, and the air seemed to hum with power. A bright, golden light emanated from Harald’s palms, bathing the room in a warm glow. He was no expert in restoration—he had only learned a bit from Colette in the College—but to save this boy, he did not need much.
The room fell silent as everyone watched. Ryam, the septas, Jonnel, Chett, and even Leobald held their breath, their eyes wide with wonder.
As the golden light enveloped Tommen, his labored breathing began to ease, each inhale becoming smoother, deeper. The bruises on his face slowly began to fade, the livid purple transforming to a more natural color. The grimace of pain that had twisted his features softened. His pale complexion regained some warmth, and his body, once tense with agony, relaxed.
"It’s… a miracle," whispered Septa Tanis, her voice barely audible, filled with awe. "A miracle."
Ryam’s gaze shifted from Tommen to Leobald, his eyes glistening with tears. "You were right," he whispered, his voice cracking. "He… he truly is the chosen of the gods."
Satisfied with the spell’s effect, Harald smiled gently as he pulled his hands away. The glow faded, leaving behind a boy who looked peaceful, his breathing even and calm. Harald then reached into his satchel, rummaging through the assortment of vials and supplies inside. After a moment, he pulled out a potion and held it out to Ryam.
"Here," Harald said, offering the vial to the older septon. "Give him this once he wakes. It will help his body recover fully. He’ll be running around, healthy as an ox, in no time."
Ryam took the potion with trembling hands. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he looked at Tommen, the child who now had a chance at life again. "Thank you, oh great champion."
Harald raised an eyebrow, glancing towards Leobald with a questioning look.
Leobald gave Harald a grateful nod, a smile tugging at his lips. He turned back to Ryam, placing a gentle hand on the old septon’s shoulder. "I told you he was the answer to our prayers."
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Some time later, Harald, Leobald, Jonnel, Ryam, and Chett found themselves gathered in the largest chamber of the sept. They were surrounded by the towering statues of the Seven: the Father, the Mother, the Crone, the Warrior, the Smith, the Stranger, and the Maiden.
Chett, restless and eager, spoke first, his voice carrying a sharp edge. "Let’s kill the bastard now and free the nobles," he urged, a hand already resting near his sword.
Harald held up a hand, his gaze calm but serious. "I can kill Haldon easily," he said, his tone confident but measured. "But we have to think about what comes after. Killing him isn’t enough—we need to secure the town. If we move too recklessly, the Ironborn here could retaliate violently, and a lot of innocent people could get caught in the chaos."
Leobald nodded in agreement. "The people here are terrified as it is," he said, his voice steady but filled with concern. "We can’t just kill Haldon and expect the Ironborn to scatter. They’ll want vengeance, and it could turn into a bloodbath for the townsfolk."
"What if we do it quietly?" Jonnel proposed. "We could assassinate Haldon without raising an alarm. Once the hostages are freed, we make a swift retreat to Raventree Hall. It’s far enough away, and we could regroup with Blackwood forces there. The hostages would be safe."
Leobald shook his head. "That might spare the hostages, but what about the people left behind?" he asked. "If we kill Haldon and retreat, the Ironborn here will be leaderless, yes, but they’ll also be enraged. They’ll take it out on the people. Haldon’s presence here, tyrant though he is, has kept some order. Without him, there’s no guarantee that Fairmarket won’t descend into chaos."
Ryam looked grim. "He’s right," he said. "Haldon’s cruelty keeps the Ironborn in line. Without him, it’s the innocents who will pay the price."
Chett scowled, clearly displeased at the idea of inaction. "So what then?" he snapped. "Do we just sit around and wait? We have the chance to strike now."
Leobald, his eyes thoughtful, spoke up. "We don’t have to move immediately. We could do this slowly, weaken the Ironborn piece by piece before taking out Haldon. Harald’s magic is more than capable of giving us the advantage in a more subtle campaign. We could cut off their support, sow fear among them, and make them easier to handle when the time comes."
Jonnel shook his head, his expression torn. "We might not have that kind of time," he said. "Word of Vikon’s death will spread. It’s only a matter of time before someone notices his absence or one of the survivors from Ironholt reaches Fairmarket. Once Haldon finds out, he’ll suspect rebellion. If he does, he could decide to execute the hostages before we can act."
“Lord Harald, if I may,” Ryam said, chiming in again.
Leobald looked to Ryam, giving him an encouraging nod.
"Leobald told me that you were sent by the gods, Harald," Ryam said, his voice filled with emotion. "And after what I saw today—seeing you save Tommen, seeing your power and your character—I believe his words." He paused for a moment, as if gathering his courage. "I have a plan, if you’re willing to hear it."
Harald inclined his head, his expression respectful. "I wish to hear it, Septon."
Ryam took a deep breath, his gaze shifting from Harald to the rest of the group. "Fairmarket is already on the brink of rebellion," he said. "I have spoken with many leaders within the town—those who have seen their livelihoods stripped away, their loved ones taken as thralls to fuel Harren’s endless hunger for laborers at Harrenhal. Just last month, I had to talk them down from attempting an uprising. The tributes, the increase in food prices—all of it has only heightened their anger and dissent."
Ryam turned his gaze back to Harald. "The people are angry, they are desperate, and they are mourning the loss of those they love. They want change. They need hope. They are looking for a leader—someone to show them the way."
He paused, letting his words sink in before he continued. "I could meet with these leaders again. Tell them of you—of the man the gods have sent to answer their prayers. You could be the leader they need, Harald. You could lead them in an uprising. Together, we could drive out the Ironborn and hold the town."
"This... this could work," Jonnel said, his voice filled with cautious optimism. "The people would rally behind you, Harald."
"This is a good plan, Harald," Leobald said. "It would mean fewer casualties for the people. We could take the town and hold it."
Harald was silent for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered Ryam’s proposal. He weighed the risks in his mind—fighting Haldon and his forces without mass innocent casualties would be difficult, but it would be easier if the Ironborn were divided, if they had to contend with an uprising from within as well. He could use his magic to weaken the Ironborn before they even knew what was happening, giving the people a chance to rise up and succeed.
After a moment, Harald nodded. "Yes," he said, his voice strong. "Can you organize this in such a short time, Septon?"
Ryam nodded, his face lighting up with hope. "Yes, I can.”
Harald stood, his expression determined. He began laying out the plan.
"Here’s what we’ll do. Tomorrow, I will spend the entire day weakening the Ironborn presence here in Fairmarket. I’ll make sure they’re disorganized, frightened, and unable to respond properly."
He turned to Jonnel, meeting his gaze. "Jonnel, your task is to plan how to rescue the hostages and ensure their safety. I trust you to make sure that, when the time comes, those people are freed swiftly and without harm."
Jonnel nodded.
Harald then turned to Ryam, Leobald, and the rest. "The rest of you, I want you to work with Septon Ryam to prepare the people for the uprising. Talk to the leaders. Spread the word quietly. Make sure they’re ready to act when the time comes."
Leobald and Ryam nodded, both looking equally resolute.
Harald continued, "Once I’ve weakened the Ironborn and Jonnel has the plan for the hostages in place, we’ll move to kill Haldon. Jonnel will come with me when it’s time. Once I give the sign—trust me, you’ll know it—the uprising can begin."
He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the room, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "I will kill Haldon and join the uprising as soon as I can. Together, we will either kill or drive the Ironborn out, and we will secure Fairmarket."
Harald let his words hang in the air for a moment.
"Does anyone have any doubts? Any questions?"
The room remained silent. Ryam, Leobald, Jonnel, Chett, and the rest all shook their heads.
"Good," Harald said, nodding with approval. "Get some rest tonight. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
