Chapter 103: The Secret of Valyria's Origin

Wright only relaxed once the black sludge of Hermaeus Mora had completely disappeared. He turned to look at the two Draemora Lords, who were unique in their own right. Once summoned, they wouldn't vanish. Unlike elemental beings who depended on the summoner's magic to exist and would dissipate once the magic was exhausted, Draemora Lords required a different spell to banish them back to their realm.

"Let me see your sword," Wright said, intending to test whether he could take their weapons. If it worked, the two would have no choice but to return to their realm of Oblivion unarmed.

"Master?" The Draemora Lords looked puzzled, unsure of what Wright was trying to do. While the summoning magic compelled them to follow his orders, they retained their own will. Commands that violated their principles — such as ordering them to commit suicide or serve as mere servants — would be outright ignored.

"I just want to compare your weapons to this Valyrian steel axe," Wright explained, extending his hand.

"You cannot wield our weapons, Master," one of the Draemora Lords replied, handing his Draemora greatsword to Wright.

Wright could feel the weight of the greatsword, and with his smithing and enchantment skills, he could sense that it was indeed a finely crafted weapon made of Draemora metal. But the moment the Draemora Lord released his grip, the sword vanished from Wright's hands.

"Master, our armor and weapons are bound to us. They're connected to us through the summoning. Once separated from us, they automatically return to the realm of Oblivion."

"Then what about your corpses if you die?" Unable to claim their weapons, Wright's thoughts shifted to their hearts. Draemora hearts were highly valuable.

"If we fall in battle, our bodies return to the domain of Lord Mehrunes Dagon."

The Draemora Lords noticed Wright's gaze fixed on their chests and hastily added, "If our limbs are severed or any part of our bodies is detached, they too will return to Oblivion. We do not belong to this world."

The two Draemora Lords exchanged a wary glance, sensing that this summoner harbored ill intentions. It was common knowledge in magical realms that the organs and tissues of powerful beings made excellent alchemical materials. Draemora, who often ventured to other planes to wage war, were well aware that in certain places, their fallen comrades had their hearts harvested for alchemy or equipment crafting. The phrase "can be used medicinally" had truly caused the downfall of many fearsome Draemora.

Mehrunes Dagon, their patron Draemora Prince, was not known for his generosity — quite the opposite, in fact. The Draemora's equipment belonged to them, which, in turn, meant it belonged to Dagon. There was no way he would let outsiders profit from them so easily. Thus, within his Oblivion realm, he ensured that all summoned Draemora remained physically and magically tethered to their plane. To claim their equipment, one would either need the Draemora to step through a portal willingly or storm into Mehrunes Dagon's Oblivion realm to take it by force.

Disappointed, Wright lost interest in the two. "Take the armor on the ground and follow me."

"Summoner, Draemora warriors charge into battle without fear and bring you the heads of your enemies, but we will not fetch or carry for you!" The two Draemora Lords stood tall, prideful in their defiance.

"Useless showpieces," Wright muttered before casting a banishment spell, sending the two Lords back to their realm.

Valyrian steel was remarkably light, but Euron's armor reeked horribly, drenched in Shade of the Evening. Wright piled the armor pieces together and, with a Mage Hand spell, carried them off the ship. Jumping down, he tossed the armor into the water and began scrubbing it clean. Once done, he summoned the skeletal horse Arvak, intending to place a cleaned greave onto the horse. However, the smell lingered.

"Forget it. I'll have these melted down and reforged," Wright said, stripping the armor of decorations and leather straps, leaving only the Valyrian steel components. The ship was laden with ropes, so he tied each metal piece to Arvak's bones. Before long, the skeletal horse was covered with clinking steel.

Wright then searched the ship, locating the stolen silver coins and finally picking up Euron's jawbone from the deck.

"A pirate is a pirate. I thought Euron might have improved, but he couldn't even leave the silver untouched," Wright scoffed, tying the coin pouches and Euron's jawbone onto Arvak before mounting the skeletal horse. With a chorus of metallic clinks, he rode back to camp.

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At Wright's camp, outside a large crimson tent, two slave women were cleaning up the remnants of dinner. A golden-haired servant repeatedly glanced toward the road leading into the camp, anxious for Wright's return. Normally, Wright traveled with a merchant caravan, and she had little reason to worry. But this time, he had gone off alone and had been gone for most of the day, leaving her deeply concerned.

Ever since Nymeria had hired them, she had assumed she would share the fate of other slaves and become a plaything. But Wright and his companions treated her differently. From their conversations, she learned they were foreigners from a land where slavery was outlawed, and slave traders were executed.

What surprised her even more was that Wright and his companions didn't treat her as a slave at all. Their casual, respectful behavior — a stark contrast to the norm in this slave-driven land — left the camp's slaves in awe. As a traveler from another world, Wright bore no prejudice toward anyone, and his politeness left a lasting impression on everyone in the camp.

She had never felt such care in her entire life. She was just a slave, trained from childhood in dance and carnal arts to please men when she grew up. Her former masters often remarked on her superior beauty and figure, so she convinced herself that Wright must have taken a liking to her. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became: "Lord Wright must love me!"

Determined to get closer to this love — and to escape her status as a slave — she resolved to do whatever it took. Yet Wright seemed perpetually engrossed in his tasks or buried in books, leaving her aspirations unfulfilled. His wife, however, appeared far more interested in her body.

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Though Arvak was nothing but a skeleton, the horse was surprisingly intelligent. Following Wright's command, it galloped steadily along the designated path. Seated on its back, Wright found his mind preoccupied.

According to Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince had established a connection to this world through the Black Book five thousand years ago. Thankfully, the Draemora Princes showed little interest in this low-magic world. Yet Wright couldn't ignore certain peculiarities:

The dubious alchemy practiced by the warlocks of Qarth.

The stealth skills of the Faceless Men.

The sky-forged Valyrian steel enchanted with runes.

The advanced craftsmanship of the Valyrian roads.

The Fourteen Flames and the mysterious dragon priest masks.

And his own broken game system.

Piecing everything together, Wright came to a shocking realization.

"Holy shit, there was another transmigrator five thousand years ago!"

According to the unspoken rules of transmigration, only one transmigrator should exist in a given world. Yet here were two. This likely explained the fragmented state of his system.

His game system retained only the skill tree; the inventory was broken. The other transmigrator must have had the opposite issue: a functional inventory but no skill tree. That individual likely carried everything from the inventory of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim — the Black Book, Daedric artifacts, dragon priest masks, alchemy potions, and perhaps even vegetable soup.

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