Chapter 98: Excavation in the Ruins of Valyria

Wright reclined in a rocking chair, lazily swaying back and forth, an ancient, tattered book in hand. On a small table beside him lay an assortment of fresh fruits and a goblet of fine wine.

The pages of the book were inscribed in High Valyrian, the script jagged and claw-like in appearance.

The scene unfolded on a hillside. The surrounding forest had been cleared to make room for an expansive temporary camp. At the hill's summit stood Wright's crimson tent, its lavish design contrasting starkly with the rugged surroundings. Behind the tent loomed a massive volcanic mountain, its blackened slopes a silent reminder of Valyria's fiery doom.

The red and rectangular tent was opulent, fully furnished with every comfort. The bed was layered with the finest blankets, and inside, Tyene was busy tinkering with her array of bottles and vials. Even an alchemy station, crafted by Wright himself, had been installed within.

The tent's awning extended outward, creating a shaded area where Wright had placed his rocking chair. From this vantage point, he could survey the entire camp spread out below.

Next to him crouched an ice giant, its massive, pillar-like hand fitted with a small hole that held a large fan. The creature moved its arm rhythmically, fanning Wright with a steady breeze.

Wright's mastery over summoning magic had reached the level of a grandmaster, allowing him to summon elemental beings with permanent existence.

Around the tent, Wright had cast a Guardian Barrier, a high-level restorative spell designed to repel undead creatures and continuously heal those within its perimeter. Beyond this barrier lay another defensive layer—red, blue, and white elemental trap circles scattered across the ground. These traps, akin to magical landmines, were concealed beneath layers of dirt and debris.

Below the hill, the camp stretched out in a sea of white canvas tents, numbering nearly two hundred. Unlike Wright's tent, these were simple, square shelters. Inside, a diverse group of people bustled about, with each tent crammed full of at least ten occupants. Workers nearby felled trees to set up additional tents, their axes echoing across the camp.

The camp was divided into residential and utility areas. The latter, situated furthest from Wright's tent, housed cooking and bathing facilities. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly, hammering away to repair tools, while plumes of smoke rose from countless cooking fires.

"Move faster!"

"Didn't you eat?"

A handful of armored guards, their faces marked with tiger tattoos, patrolled the camp. Whips in hand, they barked orders at a chain-gang of slaves, driving them out of the camp toward a nearby excavation site.

The excavation site was a massive square, roughly two hundred meters on each side, with a colossal pit at its center. A sloping pathway encircled the pit, carved into steps leading downward. At the bottom, countless slaves toiled tirelessly under the watchful eyes of their overseers.

Wooden cranes lined the edges of the pit, hauling broken soil and stone to the surface. The excavation had already reached a depth of nearly one hundred meters, but Wright's target lay another fifty meters below.

Beyond the camp and the excavation site stretched a dense jungle of peculiar tropical vegetation, shrouded in mist and oppressively humid. A newly carved dirt road led northward from the camp to the Smoking Sea.

Wright was now in the ruins of the Freehold of Valyria.

After leaving the ruins of Ny Sar, which he had plunged into chaos, Wright continued his journey. Past the rapids and dangerous stretches of the Rhoyne River, the waters calmed, allowing the captain and his wife to alternate steering the boat. In a week's time, they arrived in Volantis.

Initially, Wright had planned to contact local merchants in hopes of securing an introduction to someone within the Black Walls. However, his royal and noble status in Westeros meant little here. The Volantene, who prided themselves on being pure-blooded descendants of Valyria, viewed all outsiders as barbarians.

When his attempts to announce himself at the gates were ignored, Wright decided they deserved no courtesy. That very night, he scaled the walls.

Using stealth and invisibility magic, he moved undetected. The Black Walls, far larger than he had anticipated, were essentially a city within a city.

Activating his magical senses, Wright scoured the area but found no powerful magical artifacts. He searched through over a dozen opulent houses, rifling through their belongings. His efforts yielded five Valyrian steel rings and two Valyrian steel pendants. Considering their disdain for House Baratheon, Wright took them as compensation and kept them without hesitation.

The seven pieces of jewelry were not enchanted, so Wright would need to imbue them with magic himself.

Despite extensive searching, Wright found little else of value. As he prepared to leave, he stumbled upon an ancient tome in a library. Deciding it would go to waste collecting dust, he took it with him.

From there, Wright, accompanied by his two companions, ventured to the ruins of Valyria.

(Not THE valyria, but theirs settlement)

The area was overgrown with dense jungle, scattered with crumbling remnants of buildings and lava-scarred stones. Active volcanoes and the pervasive stench of sulfur made the ruins inhospitable to most.

For others, the desolation confirmed that anything of value had long since been destroyed in the cataclysm. Yet Wright, with his magical detection abilities, eventually sensed a magical disturbance beneath the ruins, near the former capital.

Returning to Volantis, Wright consulted locals merchants and hired theirs product to begin the excavation: Two thousand slaves.

The endeavor was fraught with danger. Poisonous fumes blanketed the area, wild beasts roamed the dense jungle, and the forest harbored both diseased greyscale victims and grotesque creatures that had fled Mantarys. Nevertheless, Volantene merchants were eager to take on such a lucrative deal, as the risks fell squarely on the slaves. If some died, they could always purchase more.

As for how Wright financed such a massive operation, the money he carried initially was far from sufficient.

"Wright, come inside. I'm finished!" Tyene called from within the tent.

"Coming!" Wright placed the book on the side table and stepped inside.

On the alchemy station before Tyene were rows of identical small glass bottles, each filled with a concoction she had prepared. Beside them sat a large jug of clear water.

Wright seated himself at the alchemy table and picked up one of the bottles. Channeling his magic, he initiated the process of magical alchemy. A surge of energy coursed through the bottle, transforming its contents into a fine blue powder.

Pouring water into the bottle, the mixture dissolved into a vivid blue liquid, crystalline and pure, without a trace of impurity.

Handing the completed potion to Tyene, Wright resumed his work.

Tyene, meanwhile, picked up a brush and adhesive, selecting a label from a stack of handwritten tags prepared by Wright. Carefully, she affixed the label to the bottle.

"Your handwriting is beautiful, but what do these two big words mean?" she asked while applying the glue.

Passing her another finished potion, Wright replied, "It's just ordinary Valyrian. Those two words mean Strength"

"And these five smaller words below?" she inquired, pointing.

"They mean: 'Strength produces miracles'"

The potion's formula was based on one Tyene had once used to poison Wright in their youth. He had modified it into a drinkable version, significantly reducing its potency to avoid accidental deaths, while also lowering production costs.

Tyene's own potions lacked names, their effects known only to her. Wright, however, had created this one specifically for sale to Volantene slavers and merchants. The name he chose was both fitting and memorable, and he personally inscribed each label.

As for its taste and effect, Wright had tested it a few days earlier. The liquid was flavorless, akin to plain water, but after drinking it, he had ascended to the hilltop, gazed at the sky, and stood unmoving for an hour, entirely at peace.

Outside the camp, a commotion erupted as a supply convoy arrived, managed entirely by the slavers. Wright paid no attention to these matters, focusing instead on the production of potions.

Before long, Nymeria entered the tent, covered in dust and sweat. With just a few swift movements, she stripped off her clothes and headed to the basin of clean water, using a damp towel to wipe herself down.

"This cursed weather is unbearable! I barely moved, and yet I'm drenched in sweat. It's the kind that doesn't even properly evaporate — it just sticks to your skin. It's disgusting!" Nymeria grumbled incessantly.

With a snap of his fingers, Wright summoned the ice giant stationed outside the tent. It lumbered to the entrance and began fanning cool air inside.

"It's cooler in the tent. Wipe off your sweat, rest a bit, and you'll feel better," Wright said, continuing to craft his potions.

Nymeria quickly dried herself off and, still unclothed, stood by the tent's entrance, enjoying the breeze from the ice giant.

"Volantis is abuzz with two hot topics right now, and one of them is about you, Wright," she remarked.

Handing another finished potion to Tyene, Wright asked, "Me? What did I do this time?"

"The Turtle Butcher of Ny Sar!" Nymeria teased with a smirk. "That's your new nickname. The merchants and mercenaries are claiming you ate all the turtles there! Hahaha!"

"What nonsense! I didn't eat a single piece of turtle meat! Neither did any of you!" Wright protested indignantly, refusing to acknowledge the ridiculous nickname.

Feeling refreshed, Nymeria walked over to Wright and leaned on his back, resting her arms on his shoulders and pressing closely against him. "The merchants and mercenaries at Ny Sar lost face and don't want to admit it, so they pinned everything on you. Apparently, someone identified you as the 'Red Demon of Braavos' and blamed all the chaos on you."

"Are they not afraid of me, the so-called Red Demon, hunting them down? After all, I left clear evidence of my presence at the port, with the dragon roar and the battle. Yet these fools dare spread such rumors?" Wright scoffed, finding their audacity incredible.

Nymeria playfully tugged at Wright's ear. "Do you even know who they are?"

Wright shook his head. "I don't, actually."

"They're nobodies. I asked around, and no one even knows them," she replied.

"Then we'll ignore them for now. As long as they don't slander us to our faces, I won't bother with them," Wright conceded, feeling there was little else to do. "What's the other piece of news?"

"One of Volantis's major slavers had their treasury robbed. The thief made off with their gold but left an equivalent amount of silver behind to insult them," Nymeria said with a chuckle.

Feigning righteousness, Wright declared, "What a despicable thief! But we're foreigners here — let's just enjoy the gossip. Anything else?"

Nymeria rested her head on Wright's shoulder, watching him work. "I heard that a high priestess of R'hllor has arrived at Volantis's temple. Even the temple's High Priest, Benerro, personally went to welcome her."

"A high priestess?" Wright mused. He had seen the grand R'hllor temple when entering the city, its colossal size rivaling that of a large castle. It was reputedly the largest temple across the two continents. If even Benerro greeted her personally, her status within their hierarchy must be exceedingly high.