Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

Chapter 194: I Chose You (I)

POV: The Guardian of Love

In a garden of a villa on the Silk Road.

About an hour after a meeting between two Great Factions ended...

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Zick approached toward the fountain, a work of art made of marble and granite, depicting a creative form of a tree tangled between the wings of a phoenix and the long body of a two-headed draconic serpent. Running water gushed from the mouths at the top of the dragon, lapping at the feathery wings tangled in the world tree's branches. A shower of crystalline tears seeped and trickled into the fountain's basin, generating a harmonious noise and visual effect.

He would find the boy visibly troubled and plagued by gloomy thoughts there. Duncan was trying to regain his composure. The student, now more than ever, needed guidance.

"May I sit next to you?" Gently asked the man tried by tremendous aches and pains, the price to be paid for the forbidding efforts required of his constitution two days ago.

"You must, Master... Why are you still standing? You need absolute rest." Duncan replied in an anguished tone.

"I can afford another conversation before being imprisoned in that cage of pillows and annoying cares... I never liked being treated like a dying glass-boned invalid... Opl!" Zick slowly lay on the bench, letting himself fall into the last foot. His legs and knees were as feeble as a pudding supported by toothpicks.

"Pff, but you're a dying glass-boned invalid." A faint grin bloomed between the lips of the disrespectful disciple.

"... But I am still the strongest and most powerful dying disabled person in the world." Rebutted the Watcher. Both Duncan and Zick indulged in the lightheartedness of laughter.

A cool breeze, rustling bushes, leaves, and flowers caressed the duo.

"Do you remember the night of the auction...? I've been thinking a lot about our philosophical exchange." The Watcher.

"You mean the root of conflicts in the world?" The boy asked, reciprocated by a nod of assent.

"I admit that your views on happiness have caused me a few hours of insomnia. I have been elucubating on the subject at length, and today, I can finally tell you that I disagree with you." Duncan arched an eyebrow slightly with an interested look.

"Oh no? For what reason? If it is not the Pursuit of Happiness, what is the reason that spurs man toward conflict?" Duncan.

"My physical condition has been inspiring-think about it. If a deity or entity of immeasurable power offered you, here and now, a potion, spell or magic pill that would make you immeasurably happy at all times for the rest of your days, and I'm talking about 'immeasurable happiness' that no material good, event or pleasure in the world could ever give you, 'but,' that the necessary condition for such a paradise would be absolute and perpetual confinement in a bed, would you, Duncan Tallhart, accept?" Zick completely disarmed the student, generating a more than visible inner conflict in him.

"No. I would not accept." Duncan replied in a surrendering tone after a full minute of reflection.

"And the reason behind your refusal?" Asked the Master with an unconcealed spark of victory in his eyes.

"Because I would not consider that happiness to be genuine... Or rather, I would much rather conquer a minimal portion of that happiness by my own hand, by facing and prevailing over the world's challenges, than to receive it in such an undeserving manner... I would feel no satisfaction." Duncan had slight difficulty finding the right words.

"That's right, boy! That's right! You found the key point: 'Satisfaction'... Man does not really yearn for happiness but for 'Satisfaction.' Man, woman or child would always prefer a hard game in which the chances of victory are one in a hundred to another in which victory is certain in 100 per cent of cases... For, in our hearts, we all want to try our hand at something and win. The happiness we yearn for is that which comes from satisfaction." Explained the Guardian with emphasis and joviality.

"... A valid argument to which, to my chagrin, I cannot disagree." Duncan re-embraced the despondency. The Watcher guessed the reason behind such an answer, anticipating it.

"Yeah... Humanity will never stop fighting. Even in the most fertile and utopian time for peace, sooner or later, conflict will prevail... The winds of war loom." Affirmed the Guardian with a slightly resigned tone but no air of disappointment.

"I tried, master -- but I was unable. I refused peace... Another generation of peace and prosperity was at hand. With the right arrangements, perhaps, that peace could have lasted even a century... And I refused. I might have just decreed the end of us all." Duncan explained, looking at the mountainous landscape with a blank stare.

"The end is certain for everyone and everything, my boy... But, after the end, there always arises a beginning." Zick replied, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"But to what beginning will this end lead?" Duncan.

"... I don't think even the gods have the precise answer to this question. We can study, calculate, plan, predict and control all we want, but the future will never be exactly as imagined. And this rule applies to men, kings, Guardians and even the gods themselves..." Zick slowly inhaled the fresh morning air, indulging himself, and added:

"But it is also said that the history of the world is written by the victors... And you have a chance to win, Duncan Tallhart. Big or small, that chance exists. I firmly believe that."

Duncan looked at the teacher and asked jovially, "Would you bet your money on that possibility?"

"Ahahah! What money...? I'm sorry, but I can't even own a coin long enough to spend it, let alone bet it! Ahahah!" The master gave the student moments of lightheartedness and serenity amid laughter and the exchange of jokes.

But that serenity was a prelude to stormy and nefarious arguments.

"... Leyton wanted Jaime's head. And I had to be the architect of his death... But I would be a hypocrite to appeal to that. The truth is that from the beginning, I did not want to accept. I was just looking for a valid excuse to lie to myself... I seek this conflict, master.

I was not and still am not worthy of the role of spokesman. I put my personal desires above my people." Duncan confessed.

"I knew Leyton would demand Jaime's life...I preferred not to warn you on that matter out of constraints concerning promises made. And No, Duncan-you do not seek conflict for selfish reasons. You and Ser Jaime are damned by fate, my boy..." At that point, there was no point in keeping secrets. Zick had clung to that last thread as long as he could, hoping not to have to pass that heavy burden on to this generation.

But before that, The Watcher had to get rid of an unwanted and unkind look.

"You have overstepped the bounds enough already, Old Man." Zick earnestly squared the peak of a silent elm clad in thick green, dozens of feet away from the fountain, continuing in an intimidating tone: "Here, in my hallowed abode, you do not enjoy the protection of the Green King. You are not welcome among us... Do not force me to blind you completely, Greenseer. Now, Leave!" A black raven cawed sonorously in response, gliding and hovering hastily through the skies instantly as if a flock of eagles had taken off in pursuit to hunt him down.

"Pardon the interruption. Mpff-what rudeness. One cannot let one's guard down for even a sacrosanct second these days!" Lord Bloodraven had caught The Watcher's debilitating moment. Since the day The Guardian of Love landed in the North, the meddlesome old man had been playing guards and thieves with him. Almost certainly, The Three-Eyed Raven was hunting for the Guardian of Beauty's goodwill to gain the grace of his little band of exiles.

"Are you sure you want to visit the Old Raven's lair?" Zick asked.

"I won't have many opportunities to go North of the Wall, Master. After Mance Raider, I will deal with Lord Brynden in person. The North needs him and his Dark Sister." Duncan replied without hesitation.

"So be it, but don't forget your heritage. You are the last living descendant of Joramun. From Hunted Forest to the Frost Claws, the magic of life belongs to you by right of blood. Be sure to remind him that he is a guest in your land." Zick added.

"The land does not belong to me at all. For the next four years, I only have the right to freely avail myself of the Life Singers' magic. Only the Green King knows what I will inherit in concrete at my sixteenth name-day fulfilment." Replicated the heir of Joramun.

"Pff, scribal technicalities..." Zick.

"Where does all this resentment toward Old Bloodraven come from? Lord Brynden has always been a loyal supporter of the Three-Headed Dragon, and the blood of Valgudryel runs in his veins." Pinned Duncan.

"Tsz...! Some time ago, the Enchanting Sapling tried to seduce and corrupt one among my disciples. The cowardly carrion infiltrated the dreams of my poor, immature child, disturbing his sleep! My word, if at that time the Green King had not interfered, begging my favours, today, the Greenseers would be extinct!" No one could maliciously touch one of his blooming buds and go unpunished. No one. Only the Gods and the Nine Demons knew what unspeakable cruelties and abysmal plagues The Watcher could unleash at the height of his fury.

Zick calmed down, cooling past-but not forgotten-hot spirits. There were more pressing matters, and Duncan was right: Bloodraven would help with the looming threat.

"You were saying, master? Haunted by fate?" Asked the boy, suffering from justified curiosity.

After ensuring that no other 'disturbing elements' attempted to eavesdrop on the delicate conversation, the Watcher resumed the floor:

"You and Ser Jaime will have one thing in common from now on... Both of you will be hunted by the 'Sleeping Leviathan' lurking in the darkness of the Known World." The Watcher managed to capture his pupil's full and complete attention. "Yes... Your suspicions and those of Chai Duq were well-founded." Duncan's face paled. Zick stopped him with a hand gesture to continue.

"First, I wish you to see the full picture... No more secrets. I will tell you everything I know." The Guardian of Love began to uncover Pandora's box.

"Let us begin with what I omitted about the Founder of House Lannister... Legend has it that Pod was the squire of his time's most fearsome and valiant Green Knight. An unparalleled warrior who had never known defeat, named The Beast.

A woman cursed by Beauty, who had never known Love but blessed by Magic... The Beast bartered her oath to the Green order in exchange for an unknown power. A dark power that would not only allow her to break her own curse so she could know the longed-for Love but also bestowed an additional boundless strength that would make her the undisputed Champion and favoured weapon of the High Tower.

During his last venture to safeguard the Known World, Podrick faced his corrupt former mentor in a duel. An almost hopeless battle... Podrick possessed no adequate weapons, skills, magic or experience to prevail, and yet, the Hero fought, giving his all, never yielding to his last breath... And in the darkest hour, when his downfall seemed imminent, Podrick awakened what we, three guardians of the world, call: 'the First Guardian's Blessing'. It is said that a thunderous Roar went down from the High Tower, shaking its foundations, audible from Oldtown to the Eye of the Gods. For a short time, Podrick gained uncontestable power to defeat the most feared monster, fulfil his heroic aims and escape unharmed from an alarmed city besieged by Andal armies..." Zick ended the chapter to begin a new one, but not before allowing the disciple to ask the first question.

"So is this what was happening to Ser Jaime...? Was he also receiving the 'Blessing of the First Guardian'?"

"Not exactly...Ser Jaime was unconsciously recalling part of Lann's Legacy." Zick.

"Part of the Legacy?" Asked the confused boy.

"For now, let's just say that the Lion Boy proved himself worthy of holding the sword of Lann and accessing the power needed to counter Peremore's Legacy...

Over the millennia, there have already been instances in which some members of House Lannister proved themselves worthy of wielding Brightroar, but never has anyone been able to manifest the same power as Podrick Lann in his day of glory. This is a complex and still undeciphered topic. But what I do know is that the First Guardian of Love did not forge Brightroar for the sole purpose of punishing the corrupt descendants of Peremore... There is a reason that the sword is considered the Supreme Masterpiece of Valyria's Greatest Forgemaster.

The Guardian of Love had long believed some unknown darkness was behind the world's greatest catastrophes.

Valgudryel suspected that such an entity was connected to the arch-enemy of the First Great Guardian. An entity as old as the dawn of time, feared by all the descendants of the gods, whose name has never been uttered or handed down by any mortal creed, voice or writing...

Therefore, the Founder of the Targaryen Dynasty gave up all his knowledge, resources, and skills, even sacrificing his immortality, to forge a weapon that could equal, if not surpass, the Lightbringer myth. An artefact that could summon the powers of the Great Lion Guardian...

The Guardian of Love designed that work centuries before his departure. He was waiting for a worthy possessor. Someone who would not abuse that boundless power and who would be recognized by destiny--and destiny chose Podrick Lann.

But Valgudryel could not let such a powerful artefact fall into the hands of any power-hungry descendant. Peremore's heirs were already teaching him about his past mistakes. Valgudryel was able to harness and contain the First Guardian's Blessing within Brightroar, binding it to the blood of the chosen dynasty with strict restrictions. No one, not even the Guardian of Magic and the Guardian of Beauty, knows the arcane constraints of that Artifact, with its already unparalleled basic magical capabilities." The Watcher lit a lamp of hope after a visible sign of disappointment on the boy's face.

"... 'None' except the Keepers of Love." That lamp was lit.

"On her deathbed, Rheyna Targaryen, only daughter of Valgudryel and wife of Lann, passed a final prophecy to the Lord of Harmony, her chosen successor as the next Guardian of Love. Four hundred years ago, the Lord of Armony, before his departure, passed on said words to The Kind Man who, in turn, twenty-six years ago, entrusted me ...

{...Skori se Rdui Sadhicr, isse se brzi hen jorrelagon, hre zarfices jhor dhar, se Rvgrie Klio jhor gart arl.} Zick quoted the prophecy in perfect High Valyrian, with a different timbre and tone of voice. Those words were bound by magic.

"Now, you, Duncan Tallhart, are the third individual still living who knows the last words of Rheyna of the Targaryen dynasty."

Duncan translated the sentence into thought, moving only his lips.

{"When the Worthy Successor, in the name of Love, three sacrifices will attempt, the Guardian Lion will roar again."} Zick nodded compliantly.

The boy could already juggle four languages masterfully. Zick was repeatedly tempted to teach Duncan the lost language of Dawn, but that would have meant placing the boy on a much more slippery slope, slanting between the jaws of Chai Duq and the upper echelons of the Confederacy.

"But why are you passing Rheyna's prophecy on to me? I have already told you. And now more than ever, I'm sure I don't want to pursue the role of Guardian of Love...!" Replied the boy, a moment after realizing the symbolic burden just entrusted to him.

Zick replied with serenity and a smile on his heart. "You may not be the next Guardian of Love, but I still entrust you with the task of choosing the next worthy successor. When you find a suitable candidate, and he or she is ready, you will, in turn, hand down these words... I have already told you: I have chosen you, Duncan Tallhart."

The chills of insecurity and indecision began to melt on the boy's face, giving way to the warmth of resolve. Duncan nodded.

"If Leyton considers Jaime such a threat to start a World War, it means Brightroar is still well and truly sharp and out there waiting to return home. The Artifact was not lost in the ruins of Valyria... Where is House Lannister's Ancestral Sword, Maester? And who is this 'Sleeping Leviathan'?" Asked his heir with a renewed spirit of adventure and fighting will.

"Far be it from me to pollute your resolve, my boy, but ... Well, you've asked two problematic questions."

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End part I