Chapter 6: Words

Chapter 6: Words

~o~

I woke up to an unfamiliar white ceiling.

…is what I would like to say, but it was the familiar tan canopy of my bed.

"Cersei, Cersei, he's awake!"

"I can see that! Hachi, does it hurt anywhere?"

I turned my head to the side to see my brother and sister sitting in chairs next to the bed. It took me a vague moment to realize that I was actually lying on that bed. The last thing I remembered was a flash of white after I stuck my hand into…

I raised my hand. Turning it over and over, I found that it unexpectedly did not have any burns on it.

"Hachi?"

"How did I—"

Then my sight flashed, and I blacked out again.

~o~

The darkness of the room greeted my eyes when I woke up again, but I forced myself to roll to the edge of the bed. I didn't want to fall unconscious again, and I knew that would happen if I stayed in bed any longer, I would probably doze off to sleep. My feet found purchase on the chilled carpet. Still, it was disorienting in the darkness of the room. Not total darkness since some of the moonlight still filtered through the curtains. As I stood up, I closed my eyes, willing myself to adjust faster to the darkness. I wanted to see.

When I opened my eyes, I could see, but not in the way I was expecting. Instead of seeing the dim outlines of my surroundings in the darkness, the room was illuminated by the flickering of a candlelight. Except when I looked down, it wasn't a candlelight. A small flicker of fire, a wisp of bright orange flames, rolled across my palm. I noticed a strange sensation of heat, but it wasn't hot or scorching; it was more akin to body warmth. As I spun my hand, it flowed across my palm and in between my fingers like water. I closed my hand into a fist, capturing the wisp within and shrouding the room in darkness once more.

I could feel its heat enclosed into the center of my palm, emanating light through the gaps in between my fingers. Opening my hand up, the flame grew according to my will, covering my entire hand in its mystical fire. I moved my flaming hand over a candle by my nightstand, watching as the candle wick got caught on fire and the wax began to melt. It wasn't an illusion; this was real. The power granted to me, the ability to create and control fire. If I had this power when I was a middle schooler, I would have become so far gone into my delusions that recovery would have been impossible. With a thought, I extinguished the flames. Little strands of smoke rose from my hand, barely visible in the dim light of the candle.

Walking over to the curtains, I pulled them apart. The half moon in the starry sky greeted my slight. It only made the torch lights far below more obvious, their yellow glow lighting up the courtyard. Men in armor—both light and heavy—were patrolling or standing guard at doorways. Unlike many castles, Casterly Rock needed many guards within its walls at all times of the day and night. That was because it wasn't just for protection, it also to ward off thieves and corruption. Gold was a tempting prospect, and there was no place with more gold in Westeros than Casterly Rock. Still, that wasn't what kept most away. No, it was rather our unofficial motto.

A Lannister always pays his debts.

Unless they disappear, it would be hard to escape House Lannister's retribution.

They seemed to think the world of me, but if it came down to it, could I execute someone with my own hands? Swing the blade and take a life?

I didn't know. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know, even though the answer would eventually come. It was inevitable, at least in this world.

In the night skies above, the half-moon was positioned somewhat passed the apex. That meant that it was likely after midnight. It was far too late to do anything, and my siblings were probably exhausted, having watched over me the entire day. Yet, because of how much I had already slept, I didn't feel an ounce of exhaustion.

Moving again into the center of the room, I grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the door. I placed it against the door. It wasn't much, but if someone was to try to enter the room, the door would hit the chair, impeding their progress and making some noise. That would allow me some forewarning and time to hide my flames.

A thin layer of fire covered my hand. After all, there was nothing to do now except test the limits of my power.

~o~

By the time the first light filtered through my window, my eyes felt like they were sunken in. Having spent the whole night experimenting, I could safely say that staring into an open flame for that long wasn't doing my eyes any favors, especially in a relatively dark room. However, I did find out some of the limits that I had. I was feeling more than a bit exhausted, but it was mostly from the usage of my powers. My ability drew something out of me, probably similar to internal mana in a way, instead of having energy taken from the environment or from a patron god.

I could only create a small wisp of flame, but if there was an open fire, I could control a larger portion of it than the amount I could create. Another fact was that fire couldn't hurt me. It didn't matter what the source was; it did nothing more to my skin except make it warmer. However, that only applied to my body. When my clothes caught on fire, I had to quickly snuff it out. Luckily, if I was in direct contact with a flame, I could extinguish it with a thought.

So what was my conclusion? This was currently useful only for theatrics and surviving fires. Since I wasn't planning to be a firefighter, the latter aspect was dubious in its use. If I used it while having armor on, I would be melting the armor on to me. I sincerely hoped Zaimokuza included a leveling up system for this ability, otherwise this would be useless in most regards.

Well, I doubted he would call it an overpowered ability if it could only do this much. I read his attempts at making light novels so I knew how much of a chuunibyou he was. He knew very well what was overpowered and what was underpowered. If he didn't, he would be a failure at being a chuunibyou.

I pulled the chair away from the door. In the end, no one came in the middle of the night to check up on me. I supposed that was a good thing, but it left me a little disappointed. In what, I wasn't sure, but that in turn made me a bit irritated. I opened the door and went outside.

There were only servants and guards awake in the hallway, and the moment they saw me, they rushed to spread the news. I was going to go out and check if Tywin was awake, but I supposed he would be coming to me instead. So I went back inside and sat on my bed. A maid came in shortly with a tray of food. I promptly ate my meal in bed as I waited.

And waited.

And waited…

After what seemed like the full drop of an hourglass, I got up and went out to find him. It turned out he was in the dining hall, eating breakfast in that slow, methodical way that he does. I sat roughly in one of the many empty chairs at the long table.

"Hachi, aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"Father, aren't you supposed to be visiting me?" He frowned slightly in response. I supposed that I layered the sarcasm a little too much there.

"Very well. Tell me what happened last night." When he saw me glance around at the servants and guards in the room, he spoke out loud. "All of you. Leave."

As if they were synchronized, the various servants and guards made their way out in silence. Only when the doors closed shut did Tywin's focus drop back on me.

"Now, the story."

"Magic is real." To accentuate my point, I allowed small flicker of appeared on the palm of my hand. It moved according to my will, but stayed within the confines of my palm. Tywin only allowed his forehead to furrow as he stared at it.

"It burns?"

"To everything except me. It'll even light my clothes on fire."

Tywin stood up and walked over to me with a steady gait. Only when he reached me did he hold out his hand, letting it hover over the flame contained in mine. He moved his hand, testing, feeling, as if trying to find a weakness to an illusion. When he found none, he took his hand back. Silently, I extinguished the flame with a single thought, leaving only a tiny wisp of smoke in its place.

"It's real." It was only two words, but it was a heavy statement nonetheless. It encompassed the many years that I had spent, trying to validate the truth about magic in this world. Despite how many books I had procured from Asshai, this was the first time that I actually dealt with real magic and not simply words on a page. I supposed that my emotions showed through because, for a moment, I saw Tywin's face softened. However, that moment was fleeting and gone in the next.

"It seems your endeavor was fruitful."

"It was," I said, lowering my eyes to my hand. "I can't be harmed by fire anymore."

"Then explain to me what that witch did to you."

"Don't call her that. She didn't do anything to me. She only instructed me; she was outside the tent when my power was awakened. The guards will attest to that."

"They have, which is the only reason she is still alive." I nodded my head at his words. In fact, I had chosen my previous words carefully because I knew that if I didn't, it would lead to her execution on the off-chance that she was still alive. Tywin didn't like the fact that she was here, and with what happened to me, I was surprised that she wasn't already dead. It was, honestly, a relief.

"Is she still…whole?"

"That will depend on your next words. Continue with your story," Tywin said. "But no more lies or half-truths. Your carefully chosen words do not speak well of your intentions."

I was at a loss for words.

"Do not be so surprised, Hachi. Did you not think that I would see through your facade? Do not play games with me." Tywin stared down at me with a stony gaze, his presence immense enough to bear down on me. "You are my son and heir, the scion of House Lannister. I know you as well as I do my left hand. I can hear the reluctance in your chatter, speaking with half-truths and only an ounce of conviction. If this is how you act, then you are not ready for the courts.

"Speak, Hachi of House Lannister, but know this. As long as I am the head, you will bow your head and submit your will to me. I have no need for compromise, and I will give none to one who speaks to me as if speaking to a fool."

I may have been at a loss for words at first, but during his speech, I was already weighing the positives and negatives. While it was possible to hide it all, I didn't know if I had what it took to do it; I wasn't a machine. I couldn't simply do it myself, and I didn't have the confidence to hide my actions from someone as keen as Tywin. In fact, it would just make it far more difficult than it had to be. Making an enemy—if nominal—out of Tywin was a horrible prospect that would restrict me almost entirely. However, getting him on my side was a daunting task. I wasn't sure if that could really be done in truth, but I was his son. That much was true, and that gave me a huge advantage over anyone else.

In the end, I said: "I made a contract with a magical being that thinks of himself as a god. He calls himself R'hllor."

As I laid out the story, the only thing I held back on was our past life. I wasn't sure if he noticed or not, but I was too caught up in my telling to really pay attention. If he did, he didn't object or interrupt me, letting me finish my story from the top to the bottom. During the whole time, Tywin stood beside me, his face near expressionless. By the end of it, it still stayed the same, though his eyes were wavering, if just a bit.

"You were foolish, Hachi. A deal should not be made without prior consideration."

"I considered it enough. I weighed the benefits and risks."

"You are smarter than your brother and sister, more insightful than peers twice your age," he said, "but do not lose sight of the fact that you are still just a child."

I slowly nodded and looked back up to him.

Tywin stared at me for a moment before releasing a sigh. "But what's done is done. Most would think that your tale is that of a madman's, but I am your father. If I could not read the truths and falsehoods of my children, then I'd be a fool. Since you've already taken everything into consideration, then I'll say no more, but remember, Hachi. Family comes before crown and gold."

"I didn't forget."

"Then make sure to immortalize it in our legacy."

~o~

Melisandre was in the dungeons.

The dungeons, despite my initial thoughts, were not located on the last floor or in the basement. Not that Casterly Rock would have a basement. Being the size that it was, it led all the way down to the ocean where the port was located at. The prison itself was actually located in the middle range of the floors. If it was located at the bottom, it would make it easy for escapees to flee by sea. From the middle, however, they would have to go either up to the castle or down to the port to escape. The thing was that Casterly Rock was about the height of a skyscraper. What did this mean for me? It meant that it took me a long time to get down there. I wasn't not looking forward to the return trip. Because of the distance, I had to be escorted by two knights for the entire journey. I felt bad for them since their armor was obviously heavy, yet they were trained enough—or paid enough—to not spout a word of complaint.

Still, the long trip gave me time to think, time to reflect, and time to come to terms with what I had said.

Quite frankly, I gave in to his pressure.

I felt that I was strong mentally, but when push came to shove, I was not like how I imagined. Should I clench my fists and swear that I would get stronger? Yeah, that would be the proper action of a protagonist, the one that I was supposed to be, but I wasn't exactly like a shounen protagonist. I went with the flow, thinking that this time…

Expecting others to read your mind is delusional.

…would be different.

Hikigaya-kun.

That something…

Hikki.

…would change..

Senpai.

Dammit.

Lost in myself as I was, it wasn't until we arrived at the entrance to the prison that I finally came back to myself. Finally placed my thoughts aside to focus on what was in front of me. Specifically, the prison. Well, this wasn't actually the only prison. There were smaller ones located on closer floors, but for the high profile or long-term prisoners that they didn't want escaping, then those would be relegated to this high security prison in the middle level of Casterly Rock.

After I had given the sealed letter to the prison warden, I was escorted with even more guards down the stairs and into the dungeons. There weren't cells with bars that you could into; they were more like small rooms with wooden doors and a small lid you could open to see inside. It wasn't until we reached halfway through the hallway that the guard stopped at a particular door and pulled a long latch to unlock it. I felt it was pretty careless that they didn't use a padlock with a key, but I supposed that they felt pretty confident because of the location and the amount of guards. I would have to change that notion later regardless. When I looked inside after the door swung open, I found the priestess of R'hllor standing, as if awaiting my arrival.

"I've been waiting for you, my lord."

Maybe she was.

Her ankles were chained to the wall, and her clothes were ripped and shreded in some places while stained with dust and dirt in others. From the skin that was showing, there was cuts and bruises, purpling with time. Yet, in spite of all that, she was standing as if none of that bothered her. Judging from the bright smile on her face, it didn't or more likely, she went to great lengths to hide.

"Thanks for waiting."

~o~

The journey back up was a lot more tiring than going down, of course. It was made slower not by the former prisoner, but by me. Apparently, my level of stamina was less than a priestess who had been imprisoned for a day and knights who wore heavy metal armor. Well, I wasn't going to exert myself unless I had to, so we took frequent breaks. On some of the floors were armories and training rooms. There was even servant quarters, though I suppose they were of a lower status than the ones up top since they were given rooms within the rock rather than in the castle. There were many who stopped to watch me since it wasn't everyday that that the Lannister heir came to this area.

I couldn't really understand where she was getting her strength from. Prisoners were obviously not afforded much food, but when I offered some, she refused. Well, it had only been a single day so it probably wasn't too bad, especially since they didn't seem to have tortured her, but I never expected a priestess to have that kind of constitution. Though, if I had stayed asleep for another day, there was a chance that they would have resorted to torture or worse.

By the time we reached the top, I was fairly exhausted. My hands were on my knees, and I was breathing by the mouthful.

"Are you alright, milord?" The first of my knight escorts was looking at me with exasperation in his eyes.

"I'm…fine…"

"If you stop skipping your lessons every so often, then maybe you wouldn't be so out of breath."

I simply looked up and stared at him.

"…milord," he added as an afterthought.

I shrugged my shoulders even while I was still trying to catch my breath. In all sense, I should attend every single combat lesson and grind out practices even outside those times like a true protagonist. However, this wasn't a game with tangible results like leveling up. It wasn't cut and dry that the more you do, the better you get. I could practice endlessly for a week, but revert back in skill if I stopped for a few days. Even veteran swordsmen were always practicing all the time, even after their prime. That meant that I would essentially have to practice forever because of skill decay. Well, to old age or death, but the concept was still the same. I just didn't have the motivation to do such joyless repetition for the rest of my life.

~o~

When I woke up, I found myself lying on my bed in my bedroom. I couldn't remember how I got here. If this was a cliche, then it would be because I somehow did some heroic act that ended with me becoming unconscious and unable to remember it. Of course, that was impossible since I was not the protag—

Oh wait, I was the protagonist. I even had a quest to save the world with my enemy being the mythical White Walkers, artificial winter necromancers bent on turning the world into a zombie wonderland. Seemed fitting enough. An army of undead that was coming to exterminate all life. It was definitely a medieval fantasy. Well, more medieval than fantasy, but it was getting there.

The obvious thing would be to deny my status as a protagonist, but that—in itself—was a protagonist plotline. It would eventually result in the cliche where I would be put in a life-threatening situation and had to accept my status as a protagonist to save the day. As much as I would want to fight against this fate, the alternative would be death so it wouldn't be like I had a choice. However, if I accepted the status early enough, the life-threatening situation probably wouldn't arise. Probably.

Unfortunately, what came after that acceptance would be more of the same life-threatening situation, just different components and composition. If only I could find a true protagonist to switch places with, then everything would be fine.

"My lord, I see you've awaken." I turned my gaze to the side to see Melisandre sitting in a chair, wearing a clean, new set of clothes. Where she managed to find it, I didn't know, but in spite of that, the bruises and fading cuts were still visible on her skin, even though they had been washed and cleaned.

"How did I get here?"

"You collapsed. The knights carried you here."

"And left you here?"

"Of course not, my lord," she said with a cunning smile. "But I found my own way back in."

There was something she wasn't telling me, like how did she escape them, but I didn't bother to pry into it further. "How long was I asleep?"

"Four hours."

So it was a short nap. I closed my eyes. "Melisandre."

"Yes, my lord?"

"How long before the Long Night?"

"Sometime within this life. The time will never be clear until it is."

"Why now? Why not before?"

"My apologies, my lord, but that isn't in my realm of knowledge."

You know, this all only started to happen after Zaimokuza returned to this world. Why not before, in the thousand year interval after the first Long Night? I would bet it was because Zaimokuza was influenced by anime culture. There was no other explanation for having all these events to only start occurring now. A hero—sadly me—required an adversary to show their worth, thus Zaimokuza may have had a hand in expediting this White Walker issue. They were probably doing something like sleeping until Zaimokuza rampaged through their homes and ran away with their beloved ice cube collection. I had no evidence of that, but it was suspicious enough to garner some thoughts.

He gave me power over fire, which was the opposite element from the ice of the White Walkers. That, in itself, was very telling. If I hadn't been reincarnated into the world, would all of this have happened? Maybe. Maybe not.

With all these speculations piling up, it was starting to paint a bleak picture. Should I change his family name to Kotomine?

However, there was something I had to clear up first. I turned my head a bit to get the most comfortable viewing angle that I could stay in for a long while as I gazed at her face. This was going to be a long conversation, but if there was something I excelled at, it was reading people, and I needed to know if I could trust her.

"So who are you?"

~o~

I couldn't read her.

I had learned practically her entire life story from her first memory to the present, though in a more summarized format unless I asked for more details which I did more than a few times. Sometimes it was to test her while other times, it was truly for my own curiosity. However, I couldn't read her expression at all. It was like a block of ice at times and a passionate inferno at other moments. It was too extreme, her expressions, and it was beyond the norm. I would probably have to vet her with Zaimokuza later, but I doubted she would have been entrusted to me by him if she was traitorous or had ice in her veins. He probably would have said something too if there was a problem with her. Still, you couldn't be too careful.

There was some useful information here. She was a shadowbinder, a type of mage that specialized in manipulating the shadows.

She was also a few hundred year old granny.

When I said she summarized her history, I meant that it was really really summarized. Even then, it was long passed nightfall by the time it was done. I had to have dinner sent to my room, giving the excuse to the maid that I was still exhausted from my "journey" to the lower levels of Casterly Rock. When I tried to give Melisandre something to eat, it was also when I found out she didn't require food at all to survive. Or anything more than an hour of sleep.

It was without a doubt that she was revealing a lot more to me than she normally would.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Why shouldn't I? If I can serve you in any way, I will."

"But why?"

She stared at me for a moment as if mulling over my statement. "Ah, so that's it. I understand now. I apologize. I didn't realize you didn't know."

"Didn't know what?"

"That you are the reincarnation of Azor Ahai."

"What? That old legend?" Of course I had heard about it. All I had to do was read anything about the Long Night, and it would eventually talk about how Azor Ahai stopped it with a sword called Lightbringer. She was reaching far into a black hole if she thought I was essentially the second coming.

"You do not believe?" Melisandre smiled. "Do not be confused. The prophecy from the ancient books of Asshai are quite clear. It stated that the God of Light would send Azor Hai to be reborn into the world to fight against the coming darkness. You fit the prophecy perfectly."

"How so?" I asked, though I had a sinking feeling what her answer would be.

"I heard you, talking to the God of Flames and Shadows in the tent that night. Only one such as you could ever speak directly to our god," Melisandre said, his voice becoming increasingly passionate as she went on. "I could not hear his voice, but I heard yours."

She grabbed my hand in both of hers. My cheeks reddened slightly, and I tried to pull my hand out, but the grip was too tight. In fact, it was starting to hurt.

"I've worked so long and so hard, through the many cloudy futures." Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. "To finally be in the presence of the Warrior of Fire, to know that everything I had done had lead to this very moment… It's almost too much for me to hold back."

"That's…great…" Her grip tightened even more. I was pretty sure she was cutting off my blood circulation now.

"I will do anything for you. Say the word, and I'll gladly sacrifice myself down to the last drop of my blood."

"Speaking of blood, mind letting go of my hand? I think it's turning purple now."

"Ah." She released my hand. I wrung my hand a couple of times before massaging it. It felt like a thousand ants running over my skin.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Even though I said that, I was still massaging my hand.

Melisandre said assumed her more stoic appearance once more. "I apologize for my lack of control."

Now, I understood why Zaimokuza chose her. Despite being hundreds of years old, she was a kuudere. Definitely a kuudere. There were even hints of a yandere under there. I imagined that Zaimokuza would be breathing heavily if he was here. This was right up his alley.

"I can see why he likes you. If you looked any younger, you'd be a legal loli."

"If you so desire, I can—"

"No, no, I'm not into that." I didn't want her to finish that sentence. The fact that she even offered meant she wasn't above cradle robbing, which this technically was. Not that I really mind since I had seen enough doujins to get used to the idea of long lived elves and a thousand years old demoness, but somehow, it was still disturbing. That was a bit of a contradiction that I couldn't exactly reconcile. "So what now?"

"We must prepare for the Long Night."

"How?"

"Warriors, supplies, weapons," Melisandre said. "Food. With the Long Night comes the darkest of winters. No crops will grow without the sun, and the light will never return until the Others are pushed back."

Pushed back. That choice of wording was telling. "Pushed back to where?"

"Beyond the wall in the north."

"Where beyond the wall?"

"I…don't know." She averted her eyes to the side. "The ancient texts say very little about their origins, and the visions from the fire are unclear."

"Visions from the fire?"

"Yes, the God of Light sends the faithful visions through the fire, but their meanings are not always clear."

Well, that made things easy. I just had to ask Zaimokuza about them directly. I almost felt pity for the amount of charades that Zaimokuza had to do with his priests and priestesses.

Almost.

~o~

"Welcome, comrade, to the Game of Flames where we—wait, wait, wait, come back, Hachiman!"

It took all my willpower to shut the door after stepping into the room instead of before. Making sure that the door was secure, I turned back to the brazier sitting in the middle of my room. It was not really a good idea to have the brazier here in the first place, considering how many flammable materials were within reach of it, but I needed the privacy that only my personal room could afford. Luckily, the coal didn't produce too much smoke though it was only a matter of time before it would become unbearable, despite leaving the window open. If I left the brazier next to the window, it would solve the issue, but having the conversation broadcasted outside my window would defeat the whole purpose of putting the brazier in here in the first place. It would be a one-sided conversation to any eavesdroppers, according to Melisandre, but it was still a bad idea.

"You took your time. I was expecting you to call me up sooner, comrade," the flaming head said. It had been an entire week since our last conversation, but it wasn't that simple to steal a brazier and drag it to my room without being caught. With how the guards patrolled and the relatively sporadic movements of the maids, I had to pretend it was part of the scenery at times. I couldn't give an excuse for it since what kind of noble would drag around a brazier? I could order someone to do it for me, but it would eventually get to Tywin's ear. So in the end, I had to do it myself.

"I went through a lot of trouble getting this stupid thing into here." Memorizing the guards' patrol schedule and avoiding the sporadic movements of the servants while dragging the brazier was not something I wanted to repeat again. I had to use a trick that I often used in stealth games which was the coin/pebble toss. It was basically throwing a small object at someplace far off to distract the guards. After trying, I could safely say that it had a fifty percent fail rate. Some people thought of that as fifty percent success rate, but I was never cheerfully optimistic like that. The glass was half-empty, not half-full.

"Well, comrade, your work has paid off. Rejoice, for I am here to—stop, stop! I'll stop so put down that cup. Don't extinguish my flames!"

I placed the cup of water back down on a nearby table.

"So Hachiman, let's resume our talk."

"I need more information about the Long Night," I said. "When will it start?"

"Twenty years…thirty… Maybe fifty years? Probably fifty years. Well, it's hard to tell until the White Walkers start producing their forces en masse."

"Aren't you able to see some of the future? You always give visions in your fires, right?"

"Haha, about that. They aren't so much premonitions as they are educated guesses."

"What?" I asked in a deadpan voice.

"Sometimes, I use my powers to get genuine visions that are cryptic even to me, but most of the time, I construct these images myself and show them to my followers, so they aren't fragments of a possible future. The thing about these 'visions' is that people consider them to be facts," Zaimokuza said, complete with air quotes using his hands. "It's like they don't understand that photoshop exists, so they believe the photos entirely without doubt. They will strive to make it come true or prevent it. Either way, they judge their success or failure by the vision coming true or not. If I put a vision of them killing their parents, they might go out and do it. Or they might just run to another country to prevent it. However, they won't ever doubt the vision, even when it doesn't come true. They'll just think they succeeded in changing the future."

"If your priests could hear you now…"

"Let's keep it our little secret." The flaming head exaggeratedly winked.

"…ugh, I'm feeling goosebumps all over my arms."

"It's a reminder of our bond. That close tie between us that nothing can break apart—stop, stop! Put down that cup!"

I put down the cup. "Do you trust Melisandre?"

"I do. She's obsessed with me. If I came down there, I'm afraid she'll ravage my bones." His flaming forehead furrowed. "Don't tell her we're getting me a body."

"I thought you'd like someone like her."

"She's like Hikaru Genji. She gets around."

I quirked an eyebrow at that, but I changed the topic instead. "What's the plan for dealing with the White Walkers?"

"Plan…?" The flaming head seemed to shrug. "Build up armies."

"For someone who calls himself Blademaster General, you're not acting much like one. It's not like an army is self-sustaining. Expecting to keep a standing army up for a long time? If the war happens soon, that's fine, but if it takes fifty years, then there won't be any money or supplies left by that time. Can't we just wait until on that until we see signs of the White Walkers?"

"Comrade, it'll be too late by then," Zaimokuza said in a serious tone. "What If I send a vision to my faithful to come to Westeros? Maybe get a crusade going in Essos?"

"That has so many problems with it that I don't even know where to start," I responded. "Sending a horde of religious fanatics across the ocean? It'll look like an invasion to anyone from Westeros. Even if they do arrive safely without logistic problems, they're not used to fighting on a winter wonderland."

"Well, at least I'm trying to solve the problem!"

"Let's focus on something else," I said. "You were there for the last Long Night. Tell me what you remember."

"All of it? That's too much to talk about in one session. Maybe if we schedule a couple hundred more…"

"Forget it. Just answer some questions."

"Go ahead."

"What was the most devastating elements of the Long Night?"

"The army of the undead and the lack of food," Zaimokuza said. "Everyone that dies will rise again for the the Others as long as their bodies remain relatively intact and within range of the Others' powers. The more casualties you have, the less likely your army will survive. It's a snowball effect. The only way to win is to kill the leaders or completely eradicate the opposing side with minimal deaths. As for food, it becomes scarce since there is no sunlight to grow crops. Many animal species will eventually die out. By the end of the Long Night, they had to survive on fish, insect, tree barks, tree saps, mushrooms, and roots. There were winter animals, but those became sparse from over-hunting. For meat, people resorted to cannibalism of the dead or defeated."

"You don't mean…"

"Yes, from the undead army as long as long as it was fresh enough. The winter cold keeps it fresh for a long time. Though, for their own dead, they wait until the corpses rise, then slay it before they cut off the meat and cook it."

I turned a little green at the thought.

"This won't be easy. Not by a long-shot. And there are many more enemies besides the Others," Zaimokuza said. "I think you will recognize it if I say that this is basically medieval zombie apocalypse: winter edition."

"Other humans."

"That's right. With things this bad, people will break mentally. Lots of crazies making a mess." Zaimokuza shook his flaming head. "If there is scarcity, there'll be thieves and betrayers. As long as it feels like the end of the world, there'll also be those who'll want to indulge in all the pleasures they can have before they die. Lots of nasty stuff. Well, we saw some of those in movies anyways so it's not that much of a difference."

"The more I hear about this, the worse it gets," I said. "With the exception of Dorne, all of the great houses are united under the Targaryens. That means that for this to succeed, I need the support of the direct royal family." I paused for a moment to frown. "I can't even convince Tywin. They definitely won't believe me."

"Then don't tell them?"

I rubbed my head as I sighed. The more we talk about it, the less of a plan there seemed to be.

"What about a marriage alliance?" Zaimokuza paused. "Oh right, you're already engaged."

"Wait, how did you know I was engaged?"

"I'm a god. I can watch the world to a limited extent. And I hear what my faithful tells me through the flames."

"But you don't have many followers in Westeros."

"Exactly. I'm pretty blind over here unless I look into things myself, but that's boring. It's like watching a historical drama without the drama and just everyday slice of life all the time. The most boring reality show ever. Anyways, I only heard about your arranged marriage from Melisandre." Zaimokuza nodded his flaming head. "If you want more of my help, spread my religion so more people can gossip to my flames."

"You mean praying?"

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"That's… Never mind. I'll see what I can do." I frowned. "I don't like pushing this onto my siblings, but if I can't break my current engagement, there's not much else I can do."

"You don't seem happy about your engagement."

"While love and romance are the lies of youth, legacies are the lies of the old," I said. "It's true form is just an endless cycle of reproduction and death with 'superior' matches. I'll spawn my kids with my match-up, and my children spawn their kids as it has been for generations upon generations until eventually, someone gives birth to a bad enough apple that the bloodline ends. It's not like a RPG where each generation gets better and better; it's more like a random number generator for each succeeding generation. What's the point of predetermined wife when it'll eventually end anyways beyond the control of anyone?" In a much lower voice, I muttered: "Besides, she haven't sent me a response letter in a long time. Nice girls are bitches, as expected."

"You're stomping on the sacredness of pairings!"

"Pairing? Basically the plot point where the main character gets together with the first dere type they encounter."

"Don't you understand that in doujins, the pairings can change?!"

"Derivative works? You're not even denying that it can't be in the source," I said.

"…in any case, we still need—"

"Don't change the subject!"

Zaimokuza turned his head to the side. "Tch."

"Don't you 'tch' me, you bastard!"

"I have no father!"

"…I can't believe you said that with a straight face."

"You know what I mean," Zaimokuza said. "Oh, I almost forgot the most important thing. We need obsidian. Well, they call it dragonglass here."

"Why do we need that?"

"To harm the White Walkers. Even just a scratch will destroy them. It just needs to touch their skin. However, obsidian is more fragile than iron." The flaming face made an exaggerated frown, almost like a clown. "If it hits their armor or weapon instead, they may break after a few uses. It'll also have no effect on the army of undead as well."

"So I need a lot of disposable obsidian. I'll figure out where I can mine them; I just need to find a volcano."

"I have you covered, comrade. One of my priests had already discovered a large deposit."

"Oh? Where at?"

"Dragonstone."

Damn it, Zaimokuza.

~o~

A/N: Thanks for all the comment and critique on the last one, wow I never expected to get so much feed back. Glad that a fanfic can still surprise a lot of people even in this day and age. Quite proud of that, hopefully that trend will continue!