Chapitre 49: Chapter 43 - Divine Revelation
A/N: This chapter got unbelievably long due to a long dialogue segment here, focusing on a conversation between Mother Rhoyne and the MC that I feel was long overdue. I also had to rewrite the first segment of this chapter due to how repetitive it turned out. Thanks to Fierymatter and Ascalon on SB for beta-ing.
Chapter XLIII: Divine Revelation
13 AC
Dornia
Azella Rada
Azella Rada trotted on horseback at the head of a long column of Dothraki refugees, who formed a snaking line that arduously trekked forward under the hot blistering sun, two columns of troops escorting them with nary a complaint.
"Khaleesi, how much farther?"
Azella looked down at the young Dothraki boy she took onto his lap, a young boy who had bandages wrapped around his knees and feet, covered in a cloak to shield him from the Dornian sun.
"Just a little farther, Temujin," Azella reassured with a smile, "Don't worry."
Named by Azella after a famous war leader and conqueror in one of Arin's countless stories, young Temujin was a malnourished and bloodied slave boy rescued from one of countless Dothraki camps. His legs were so badly beaten that his bones were broken, and he required extensive healing over several days to be saved from death's door. Azella took pity on him, and since then Temujin clung tightly to her wherever she went.
When Azella took them under their wing, she faced great difficulty convincing the Dothraki to sail on ships to Westeros, for they believed the sea water poisoned and full of wily evil due to the discomforting pain it caused to their horses when they drank it, and only Azella's authority as khaleesi convinced them otherwise.
Suffice to say, few in Dornia were pleased at the thought of having to accommodate a hundred thousand barbaric refugees from Essos, though nobody dared to protest with Arin weighing in personally.
Soon the Dothraki convoy reached the land where they would settle down, located at equal distance from Eyarha (Sun's Gift), Raqifar (Eaglefort) and Noyeray (The Tor), slightly west of the Skroyne (Scourge) river, and the Dothraki gasped at the sight.
Lush, green grass for miles around, dotted patches of forests sheltering oases of fresh drinking water that ran deep as wells, the sound of birds chirping filling the air. A cool, gentle breeze blew through the convoy, relieving them slightly of the desert heat as some fell to their knees in awe, relief and gratitude.
"Is this our new home?" Temujin asked, tears of joy spilling out of his eyes.
"Yes, Temujin," Azella smiled, "Now and forevermore."
In the land they settled, the Dothraki - now named the Bhreynar (People of the Horse) - would unite to build their new capital city or Arpaz Tyl [1], and it would become the beacon of their reborn civilisation, and a sign of hope for change, progress and stability.
IIOII
Rhoyehom (Godsgrace)
Ismerei Rada
"Honestly, I wonder what my sister gets to sometimes."
Ismerei adopted a wry smile as she inspected the recent reports sent by her eldest sister, confused as to whether she should feel pride, confusion or outright disbelief over her adoption of the Bhreynar.
"From what I can see, her compassion drove her to help them."
Ismerei turned to face her mother Belandra as she approached, the latter looking quite fatigued as she blinked away sleepiness from her eyes.
"What did Azella say in her reports, by the way?" Asked Belandra.
"That their settlement is proceeding smoothly, with all manner of Rhoynar craftsmen and clergyfolk helping the process," Ismerei stated, "There was initial difficulty getting them to accept our wizards due to the teachings of this Dosh Khaleen [2], but was that quickly handled."
"Mm. Anything else?"
"No, nothing more. At least nothing of import," Ismerei replied, "Though to be honest, I can't truly agree with taking in so many refugees into our home."
"She took them in because she has compassion for the weak and downtrodden, and believed in their capacity to change," Belandra gently pointed out with a smile, "And that is simply who she is; you know this better than anyone else outside our family."
Ismerei let out a sigh, "Sometimes I think she's a little too compassionate for her own good. But… you're right. I suppose all we can do is trust in the fruits of her labour."
"Isn't that why you also sent her more wizards - the Geomancists [3], the Renewers [4] and the Arcanists [5]?" Belandra asked with a knowing smile.
Ismerei simply flashed a look of exasperation.
"That aside, Mother, what has you so exhausted?" Ismerei questioned, "Is it other Westerosi nobles giving you trouble?"
"You know it's never that, Ismerei," Belandra clarified, "It was the Xadoq brothers."
"The Xadoq brothers?" Asked Ismerei, "If I recall correctly, they just conquered Walano by force, didn't they?"
"Yes, the Max-Wuadok (Crazy-Heads) [6] proved a terrifying force in battle while the Xadoq navy devastated their Swan Ships, and since the Summer Islanders never faced our traditional methods of warfare…" Belandra explained.
"And the Summer Islanders believe their lands are the only lands in a world of ocean," Ismerei's voice dripped with sarcasm, "Once again, the Max-Wuadok prove their mettle, just as they did in the Disputed Lands."
"Don't forget it was the Rukooralareu (Silver Arbor) Company's gold that paid for their equipment, supplies and training," Belandra pointed out, "And now those brothers are the richest princes in all the Summer Isles."
The Rukooralareu (Silver Arbor) Company was not one of the richest companies in the known world, having only been in business for five years and dabbling mostly in Westerosi and Essosi trade, but due to its wide array of trade goods offered in both mass and niche markets, they were able to make enough money to afford five thousand infantry elites, a fleet of twenty ships and a few thousand sailors and marines.
"How is Aunt Druselka?" Ismerei asked, her face softening with concern, "I worry about her."
"She is fine, all things considered," Belandra frowned, "Though I fear with Tarral suddenly approaching us for an alliance, he may be tempted to enact more antics against his rival princes."
"Bholtha's a good husband, though I also fear he's much too accommodating of Tarral sometimes, even though he's also keeping his worst impulses in check," Ismerei nodded to herself, "That's what gave you your headache, isn't it Mother?"
"Yes," Belandra admitted, "Tarral used Druselka's marriage to Bholtha as reasoning to form an alliance between Dornia and Walano."
Ismerei cursed beneath her breath, "Tarral, that slimy snake…"
"As much as I hate to admit it, we have no true reason to refuse after we offered him shelter, and my husband did offer his own support for their cause in turn," Belandra said, "We have no clause to refuse him."
"I pray this does not come back to bite us," Ismerei reluctantly agreed with a sigh.
After extensive negotiations, House Rada agreed to an official alliance with House Xadoq of Walano. Soon, the Treaty of Burning Cinders was signed in the city of Kooratoreem (Tall Trees Town) [7] the rule of the Xadoqs on Walano and their alliance with House Rada was recognised, and peace was to endure for ten years unmolested.
Time would tell if the alliance between the Xadoqs and the Radas would endure.
IIOII
Eyaben (Skyreach)
Arin Rada
Arin sat down and waited for the servant to finish pouring orange-flavoured water into two cups, before she bowed and gave both him and Garen private space.
"I see that my money was well invested," Said Arin with a smile.
"Digging straight into the mountains to build a city was quite unheard of, I have to admit," Garen returned the smile as he took a sip, "I mean, that was before we stumbled upon that ancient library in that cave. Gods, what surprises the Gods have for us!"
"I'd like to think it's both divine intervention and our luck, Garen," Arin suggested.
"Luck is for those who don't believe in the Gods, My Lord," Corrected Garen, "Anyways, the city of Pashoy (Rose City) sees steady progress in construction, and with the vents and sun-mirrors in place, the settlers can independently support their own agricultural efforts. The military facilities and mining complexes will need more time to be fully built, however."
"And the Seeing Stones [8]?"
"There is some… difficulty in their creation," Garen reluctantly informed, "Not only are our Arcanists struggling with the specific spells and enchantments, the material itself is also an issue."
"Have we found a workaround for these problems?" Asked Arin, concerned.
"The answer's quite simple, actually," Garen stated with hope, "The simple matter is designing the most suitable enchanted glass which can easily take in the magic spells needed to create the Seeing Stones you described, and to that end, we needed only the inclusion of one ingredient: Obsidian."
"Obsidian?"
"Yes, the same material blacksmiths add in a crushed powdered form to allow steel to take on magical properties far more easily," Garen smiled, "All we need to do is find the right formula and refine the process, and from there it should prove far easier to create the Seeing Stones."
"How soon can I expect a working prototype?" Arin asked.
Garen replied with a shrug, "One or two years, maybe three. As for a mass-producible model, I'd say five."
"I waited ten years to rebel against House Martell; I can wait one more year." Arin pointed out.
Garen downed his cup, then took a deep breath before asking his next question.
"So, what exactly did Prince Garen tell you in Choryane?"
Arin sighed, grumbling under his breath.
IIOII
Choryane
Five years earlier…
The ruined throne room of the Choryane Palace was a stark reminder of what it meant to fall due to hubris, when a once-proud beacon of civilisation could be reduced to rubble by a stronger nation due to any reason, be it stagnation or deteriorating circumstances.
Perhaps if the Rhoynar had put aside their differences and united earlier, they could have pooled their resources to develop proper countermeasures to the Targaryen dragons, created an army capable of taking on the Valyrian armies head-on, or even steal dragon eggs to hatch and raise their own dragons.
Far too many what-ifs at play meant that there was an unlikely chance for the Rhoynar to truly mount anything more than a brief, stiff resistance, as Garin the Great's warhost did.
Walking into the impromptu tomb of Garin the Great, Arin saw a lone skeleton on a ruined throne of wood, rotting and cracking in several places and pockmarked with barnacles.
"You have arrived."
Arin was alone in the Palace with Huang Xue and a handful of trusted Mareqavi when they saw a spectral form of a man materialise before their very eyes. By instinct, the guards drew their Saoidhar and formed a protective barrier in front of the two leaders.
"Please, do not be alarmed," The ghost reassured, "I am Prince Garin of Choryane. Well, I was."
Arin gestured for his men to stay their blades. They reluctantly obeyed.
"Never thought you'd chat with me like this," Arin remarked dryly, "I thought you'd prefer eternal rest in the afterlife. Is something bothering you?"
"Yes. My past mistakes," Garin admitted ruefully.
"Then why talk to me?" Arin couldn't help but ask.
"I… simply wished to know you better - your dreams and ambitions," Garin answered, "And why you succeeded as you have."
"That's it?"
"That's it," Garin affirmed.
"Really? Pardon me for saying this, but with people like you, things are hardly that simple," Arin pointed out with suspicion, "To me, you were a very vain and proud person who couldn't accept the fact that the Rhoynar were losing badly in the Spice Wars. Do you know why?"
"I do," Garin answered, unable to refute Arin's words, "I just could not accept Nymeria's suggestion that we run, that we seek greener pastures elsewhere. Why should we run and abandon our homeland? Rather, should we continue running for as long as Valyria attacks us?"
The ghost of Garin heaved a heavy sigh.
"Then again, maybe I was just lying to myself, running away from reality," He admitted, "As you know, our people remained disunited even in the face of Valyrian aggression, and not once did we ever move to truly form a united front until it was too late; our armies were no match for the hundreds of dragons, and our wizards' critical weakness exposed to reveal what we truly were: A paper tiger."
"There are those who cannot stand running, especially when they have so much to lose by doing so," Arin admitted.
Garin's face turned into a sour grimace.
"Why is it that fate conspired to bring down our once proud civilisation at the hands of the Valyrians?"
"I don't know the answer to that," Arin said, "I only know that this is and has always been a dog-eat-dog world where the strong devour the weak."
"You are right on that."
Another misty figure manifested before them. Once again the Mareqavi's hands drifted to their blades.
At first glance, she looked no different from a Rhoynar woman; chocolate brown skin and eyes, her long black locks smooth as silk and cascading down her shoulders like a curtain, her supple, matronly form filled with ample curves that drew the eyes of countless men. Her eyes shone like stars with an inner light, and she held an air of otherworldly power that made everyone think twice about making her their enemy.
Garin fully prostrated himself before the woman who appeared. Upon a closer look, Arin also realised the true identity of the intruder.
"Rhoynamhari…"
The Mareqavi gasped in awe, and they fell to a knee in reverence. Huang Xue, unsure of how to react, simply bowed deeply at the waist. Arin merely bowed slightly, his eyes fixed firmly on Mother Rhoyne.
"At ease, all of you," Mother Rhoyne reassured, "I have come to talk with Arin Rada, and to give answers."
If it were anyone else in Arin's position, perhaps another person from earth who idolised the so-called 'self-insert' trope, a young person yet to truly endure the harsh realities of the world or a devout worshipper, he or she would either be jumping for joy and celebrating in triumph, shivering in fear or falling prostrate and worshipping with his face firmly on the ground, as if not daring to gaze a living god in the eye.
Arin Rada, on the other hand, merely greeted and regarded her as if she were an old acquaintance. As such, both Huang Xue and the Mareqavi looked at him strangely when they noticed how relaxed he was.
"Will this be a long chat, Mother Rhoyne?" Asked Arin.
"Yes, it is," Mother Rhoyne answered, "And it is to be private - between me, Garin and you."
Then Arin turned to the Mareqavi and ordered, "Bring me a chair and stand guard outside to make sure no one disturbs us. Huang Xue, you return to the dig site and oversee the archaeological discoveries."
"Yes, My Liege," The leader saluted.
Soon Arin was seated, as were the misty apparitions of Rhoynamhari and Garin.
"Arin," Mother Rhoyne began, "I'm certain you have many questions, but allow me to say that it was I who brought you here from Earth, after you passed from old age."
Arin shrugged in casual acceptance.
"Then may I start?" Asked Arin.
"You may," Mother Rhoyne nodded.
Arin then asked, "Am I to believe you brought me here to avert a terrible future for not only Dorne, but all of Westeros?"
"Yes, that is right," Mother Rhoyne answered, "As you know from your 'source', the Great Others slumber in the Lands of Always Winter, ready to strike back once the Wall's magics weaken enough for them to bring about its collapse. Yet even with Aegon's Conquest, the Lords of Westeros remain as divided as ever, much to the land's detriment."
"Foolish is Man's nature to never let go of their power willingly," Garin muttered.
"Which is why I'm here," Arin clarified.
"Yes, but not only to eliminate those who would perpetrate this stagnation," Mother Rhoyne continued, "To understand why this world has stagnated as it has, you must understand the fear of the other gods; they saw how the world of Earth progressed. They saw how man dominated their fellow man, how entire cultures were subsumed and entire tribes put to the sword in the name of domination and progress, and of how they destroyed themselves in the heat of passion. They feared the same would happen here, that eventually man's progress would completely eradicate all the native non-Human tribes of this world and eventually bring about their own extinction, and thus worked to perpetrate this stagnation, all in the hopes of avoiding this future."
Mother Rhoyne sighed heavily in disappointment.
"Eventually, however, it devolved into a fight between gods for control over this world. The Old Gods' followers lost because of this stagnation they themselves imposed, and due to the Andals' superior technology and their religious doctrine, they managed to conquer much of Westeros and exterminate the Children of the Forest who did not escape. I'm sure you already know this, but despite their powers, the Children were easily overwhelmed by sheer numbers and fanatical zeal."
"Fanaticism is an exceptionally potent weapon, capable of overriding even your darkest fears," Arin nodded in agreement.
"And a weapon that saw the Rhoynar water wizards hunted down during the Red Edicts," Garin nodded sadly.
"Because the gods could never agree on anything, the dark future is sure to come to pass, even if the Prince that was Promised does fulfil the prophecy," Mother Rhoyne finished.
"Hence why you needed someone of my calibre," Arin concluded, "A Great Man of Westeros."
"Pardon me, but what do you mean by 'Great Man'?" Garin questioned, "Does it refer to famous persons in history like Nymeria the Exile or Brandon the Builder?"
"Neither, Garin," Arin answered, "A Great Man is a person born at the very height of a chaotic age, a man who works to end the established status quo by radical, often violent means."
"Violent as in slaughtering entire noble households?" Garin questioned.
"Usually that," Arin affirmed, "Though in certain cases, it can become even worse; there was once a warlord in a far eastern country who slaughtered the inhabitants of an entire temple, just because they happened to oppose his conquest - Septon, man, woman and child. The total body count totalled twenty-five thousand."
"He slaughtered religious folk?" Garin gaped, "Was he unconcerned about how the people perceived him?"
"All he cared about was ending his country's civil strife," Arin answered matter-of-factly, "The last thing he cared about was his own reputation."
"And if you are the 'Great Man' that Mother Rhoyne herself chose, does that mean…?"
"Yes, exactly that," Arin answered, "And considering the sheer stagnation forces arrayed against me, well… all I can say is that the kind of bloodshed I will unleash on Westeros when that time comes will drown the entire continent ten times over - far more than Aegon's Conquest."
Garin touched his forehead momentarily, as if wiping away beads of cold sweat. He looked to Mother Rhoyne for confirmation, to which she nodded solemnly.
Then Garin turned back to Arin and asked, "If that's the case, why ally with House Targaryen at all? I know you've heard and answered this question umpteen times, but I want to hear the answer from your lips."
"For confirmation, or to clear lingering doubts in your mind?" Arin inquired.
"Both," Garin answered.
Arin shrugged and said, "You know the Valyrian dragonlords take immense pride in their dragons and their bloodline?"
"How can I forget? There were countless times their diplomats snubbed me and my countrymen simply because we were not Valyrian," Garin said, his face darkening slightly, "And this Aegon Targaryen is no different."
"And that is exactly why his children will be raised with highly poisonous ideas, especially as the Targaryens focus on keeping dragons strictly to their family," Arin stated, "I don't know what will happen in the future, but I feel that due to the aforementioned reason, there will be competition between the children of Rhaenys and Visenya over who has the right to succeed Aegon as the next King of the Seven Kingdoms."
"A tale as old as time," Garin nodded, "I recall having to oust my own Uncle from power to take over as Prince of Choryane."
"Was he a weak prince?" Asked Arin.
"In more ways than one," Garin agreed, "But how exactly do you plan to rebel with your alliance? I'm sure I do not need to point out the obvious consequences, political fallout being the primary one."
"Why would you stick to following the rules of an alliance when there are loopholes to exploit?" Arin rhetorically answered, "Why simply be a signatory when you can work to control it entirely from within, or even better, dig the ground out from under your 'allies'' feet?"
Garin's words were caught in his throat, and he stared at Arin while unable to reply.
"Do you know of a man named Eckard Blodfeld?" Asked Arin.
"Yes, I saw him before in the city called King's Landing," Garin nodded.
"Do you know what ambitions he has in mind?" Arin asked again.
"I… do not know," Garin admitted.
"Neither do I," Arin stated, "What I do know, however, is that he has grand ambitions for both his people and the North as a whole. Why else would he request a hundred thousand gold dragons from me in exchange for a dozen favours?"
"I can get rebuilding Moat Cailin, but other possible reasons elude me, unless…" Garin trailed off, "He wants to emulate you with the other Northmen households?"
Arin merely smirked and turned his hands outwards, as if saying it was the most obvious answer. Garin simply sighed in response.
"Do you really believe he will be a valuable ally in the North, Arin?" Asked Garin.
"I foresee us being good business partners," Arin answered, "Allies? I'm not so sure."
"Then will you permit me one more question, Arin?"
"You may, Garin."
Garin took a deep breath and then asked, "Is it truly necessary for a Great Man to pilot change against a deeply entrenched tradition? Is the violence truly worth it?"
Arin looked as if he fully expected such a question, so he simply leaned his back on his chair's backrest and rested one leg above the other, his fingers crossed and his hands on his stomach. His eyes were firm and clear with nary a hint of cloudiness, a sad smile crossing his lips.
"Once there was an empress of a powerful empire, who cared deeply for her nation torn by conflict against a powerful and mighty demon lord, one whose servants nearly overwhelmed the entire continent," Arin began, and Garin listened intently with rapt attention, "The demons were beaten back at great cost, and peace presided over the nation, but the people had grown tired of the constant demonic incursions, eager for an end to the bloodshed.
"The Empress herself was exceptionally charismatic, talented and beloved by all, but due to her position and status, she had to treat everyone equally and not play favourites. There were those who called for an invasion of the Demon Lord's lands, but she refused to entertain such notions, for her nation was large and powerful but ready to collapse due to sheer logistical strain should they expand further. A more unofficial reason was that she could not bear to subject her people to the cruelties of warfare."
Arin's eyes took a wistful look, a tinge of sorrow reflected in his brown pupils.
"Many were unhappy at her apparent pacifistic stance, and a few feared that she was going to entirely forego her power and status, becoming an ordinary person and not the extraordinary empress they pledged her loyalty to. Many more feared that if she did, there would be no opportunity to end the Demon Lord and the demonic incursions."
"What happened next?" Asked Garin, leaning at the edge of his seat.
"One of her own betrayed the empress, convincing other nobles to rebel against her and thus placing the Imperial capital in peril," Arin explained, "There was another Great Man who was making great strides against his enemies, and they believed him the true saviour of the continent. Both noble and smallfolk believed that by delivering the Empire into his hands, he would have the power needed to save them all from the Demon Lord Diabolos."
Garin's face twisted in a dichotomy of rage and anguish. He leaned his head onto his hand, his expression reflecting pity and disappointment.
"So the moral of the story is that when they have the chance, the people will not care about betraying their own leader - one who did good by them - and embrace the path of carnage to end an era of strife?"
Garin's words were as much rhetoric as they were a condemnation of harsh, cruel reality.
"Likewise, the Rhoynar were eager to end their persecution and ostracization at the hands of their fellow Dornishmen. That is why they eagerly supported my cause once they saw the results I attained, and converted back to their mother religion when my Hanharu gave them charity; they willingly support a gruesome cause because they have everything to gain and nothing to lose. It is just base Human nature."
Arin took a few moments to catch his breath, having exhausted his words.
"Does this answer your question?"
Garin reluctantly nodded, "Yes, Arin. it does. And I have no further questions to ask."
Arin nodded to Garin, before turning to face Mother Rhoyne.
"Might I be permitted to ask you questions, Mother Rhoyne?"
Despite his apparent nonchalance and calm mien in the face of a Goddess before him, Arin maintained a respectful demeanour, never slouching, never showing any signs of fear, displeasure, distaste or other emotions, just a stoic politeness.
"Of course, Arin," Mother Rhoyne smiled.
"If you brought me here, why is it that my journey thus far has been exceedingly smooth?" He questioned, "I thought other gods would interfere by now."
"You are not wrong," Mother Rhoyne admitted, "In fact, when I first brought you into this world, there was a war in the heavenly realm, sparked by a handful of Old Gods who refused to accept my actions."
"Of course it's the Old Gods…" Arin muttered in exasperation.
"They are fixated on vague prophecies, so much so they treat prophecy as the very reason for their existence," Mother Rhoyne explained sadly, "Before long, other gods, especially the Seven-Who-Are-One, joined in, initiating a cataclysmic war that slaughtered countless gods. I had to join in as well to survive."
"Since you're here now, I take it your side won?" Asked Arin.
"There were no cohesive sides when the war first broke out," Mother Rhoyne clarified, "I had to convince a few Gods of the vision I had in mind to convince them to my side. Even then, not everyone had interest in fighting a war, the Drowned God being one of them."
"I read that he is an exceptionally powerful god on his own, so I take it he was so self-assured of his power he saw no reason to intervene?" Arin asked.
"The very same, and perhaps one primary reason why my side managed to win," Mother Rhoyne explained, "As for the list of slain gods, they are countless Old Gods, the Seven-Who-Are-One, and the Great Stallion."
Arin smirked slightly at this news, happy that potential obstacles were removed.
"What about the Valyrian Fourteen?" Asked Arin.
"Yes, Great Mother [2], please tell us what happened to them," Garin joined in.
"They are alive, and counted among the neutral," Mother Rhoyne explained, "Though truthfully, House Targaryen no longer holds any true favour with them."
Arin and Garen raised eyebrows, the latter looking visibly confused.
"How is it that they hold no favour when they are the last Dragonlords, especially overlords of a land following a faith opposed to their customs?" Garin questioned.
"According to the Fourteen, the dragonlords of old had terribly inflated egos, so unparalleled was their empire with no true competitors that they began to consider themselves equal to gods, all because they had dragons, all because they possessed superior bloodlines," Mother Rhoyne elaborated, "In fact, in the year the Doom of Valyria took place, thirty-nine of the Forty Families gathered at the Fourteen Flames for a grand ritual, one that supposedly allowed them to transcend the boundaries of mortality and rule the entire world unopposed."
"Why am I not surprised?" Garin groaned in distaste and hate.
"Suffice to say, the Fourteen were enraged at this act of hubris, and unleashed their anger by causing the Fourteen Flames to erupt in a shower of fire and magic, bathing the entire Valyrian heartland and rendering it completely uninhabitable for man and dragon alike. Only House Targaryen, with its withdrawal to the castle of Dragonstone a decade prior, was able to survive. Even then, the Fourteen's anger still simmers, and as a result House Targaryen is cursed."
Arin remained silent while Garin eagerly awaited Mother Rhoyne's answer.
"A sword has descended upon their household, and until the Fourteen deem otherwise or their house is erased from existence, it shall never leave, always afflicting them with internal strife," She finished, "You can guess why, Arin."
Arin nodded, "Because they still retain their hubris, and their ego remains similarly inflated due to a lack of competing dragonlord houses."
"Indeed, Arin," Mother Rhoyne said, "And that is why they have granted you their favour instead, alongside mine."
"Excuse me?" Arin questioned, "Not to sound rude, but why the hell would they favour me?"
"Because they want you to help undo all the damage the Valyrians have done, and usher in a new age of innovation and progress," Mother Rhoyne answered, "They, the surviving Old Gods and us Udohanar have agreed on this."
Garin leaned back in his seat, slouching as a pounding headache took hold of him.
"Oh, Mother Rhoyne help me comprehend this completely impossible scenario," Garin groaned.
"I apologise, Garin. I seem to have a talent for causing other people headaches," Arin shrugged, his lips tugging into a smirk.
"Be that as it may, you must know there are other gods who vehemently oppose your progress, and will do everything in their power to hamper your progress," Mother Rhoyne gently pointed out, "So do not rest on your laurels just yet."
Arin simply nodded in response.
"So what do you plan to do now, Arin?" Garin questioned.
"There is no other plan than to slowly consolidate power and influence, and build my network of connections and alliances throughout the continent, primarily in the Reach, the Stormlands and the Crownlands," Arin put forth, "After that, when Aegon Targaryen dies and a feud breaks out between House Targaryen, it will be my time to intervene."
"I suppose there's nothing else to be done, or any other strategy to adopt," Garin shrugged, "At least I can rest now, knowing the Rhoynar have a brighter future under your house's leadership."
"Is there anything else you have for me, Mother Rhoyne?" Asked Arin.
"No, that is all for now," Mother Rhoyne answered.
Arin nodded, then stood up and bowed, "My apologies, but I must be on my way, Mother Rhoyne. Duty calls."
"Of course, do not let me keep you," Mother Rhoyne smiled.
"Wait, Arin," Garin called out, "I just wanted to say… thank you, for helping our people."
Garin extended a hand, and though Arin showed some reluctance, he reached out and shook it.
And with that, Mother Rhoyne and Garin vanished, and Arin sighed as he rolled his shoulders.
"Never a dull moment…" He muttered, "Let's get back to work."
IIOII
Eyaben (Skyreach)
Present day
Garen groaned and rubbed his eyes, fighting off sleepiness that threatened to sink its claws into his mind.
"That was an awfully long conversation, My Lord," Garen remarked with disbelief, "And if it were anyone else, I thought you had gone completely mad. I mean, even us Hydromancers never received a personal visit from Rhoynamhari herself!"
"Believe me, I thought it was all one long dream, that I was going to wake up in my own home or in a hostel with me none the wiser," Arin shrugged, though he looked similarly perturbed.
"And yet, if what she said about House Targaryen is true, that means you have your opportunity sooner or later," Garen remarked, a slow smile crossing his lips.
"I'm banking on 'later'," Arin stated, "And yes, there will be. We still have much more time before that time comes, so until then, I task you with completing construction of the mountain cities under your lands, Garen."
"As your Lordship commands," Garen responded.
[1] Arpaz Tyl - Translates as Citadel of the Moon in Rhoynar, due to the Moon and the night sky holding special significance for the Dothraki and by extension, the Bhreynar of Dornia.
[2] Dosh Khaleen - A group of Dothraki crones, all former khaleesis - the wives of khals who died - who are the only permanent residents of Vaes Dothrak. They serve as seers who interpret omens and foretell the future for the Dothraki, and enjoy high status and honour in their society. A group of eunuchs serve each and everyone of their number.
[3] Geomancists - Wizards who worship G'danhoar, drawing upon power to move earth and create Qhamnoy. They are not very good support mages in direct combat, but for logistical purposes and in building defences, they are an essential cog in the machine. Their power over earth comes nowhere close to the Children of the Forest, however.
[4] Renewers - Wizards who worship Rhoynamhari and her daughter Nylhoru, dedicated to the arts of healing. They combine both magical arts and modern medical technology and techniques to heal all manner of wounds and diseases to the best of their ability.
[5] Arcanists - Wizards dedicated to the Goddess Lhorulu, who explore the more esoteric aspects of magic. Their combined power is actually weaker than the Hydromancers, but far more versatile and capable of being cast throughout the world. Blood magic is absent despite certain claims to the contrary.
[6] Max-Wuadok (Crazy-Heads) - The elite troops of the men of Walano, they are highly effective and disciplined infantry equipped with high quality enchanted steel. Their mainstay weapons are the Saoidhar and shield, with the occasional archers wielding pure wood bows due to their country's humidity.
[7] Kooratoreem (Tall Trees Town) - A sunny town shaded by enormous trees, known to the locals as Talking Trees due to the countless songs and stories carved on their trunks by Priestesses in feathered robes. The earliest maps of the Summer Islands are visible as well.
As the kingdom of Walano had no true capital, Kooratoreem was named the official capital by Prince Tarral Xadoq, and the town since then sports countless libraries filled to the brim with tomes of countless songs and histories of the Summer Islands. Many copies of such tomes are also exported abroad and sold for tidy profit, allowing all others to read the true, unadulterated history of the Summer Isles.
[8] Seeing Stones - Freely inspired by the Palantiri from Lord of the Rings, Arin has invested much time and resources into creating his own Seeing Stones, though having the orbs take in their magic is a difficult challenge his Arcanists have yet to tackle.
A/N: I put a reference to a specific light novel/manga/anime series in the chapter. Does anyone recognise it?
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone