10

Robb Stark, the Twins

As Robb passed out during the surprising events at his uncle's wedding, he found himself dreaming that he was a wolf. Not just any wolf, but his direwolf – Grey Wind. In his dream, he was surrounded by Frey men in a kennel with nowhere to go. He growled, snapped and lashed out, but only managed to scratch the wooden walls that held him in confinement. The men took their positions at the holes in the planks, crossbows peeking through, primed to launch bolts at his trapped body. Before they could, however, a loud roar passed near his enclosure, taking many of the men with it, while the rest scattered. Something bought him a few more moments to live.

Beyond the coppery smell of blood that permeated the air around him, a distinct, familiar scent stood out to him. Something that was approaching his cage. He heard the clicking of the lock on the door and saw Arya open the door, being chased by a large man in armor. He bolted past his sister and jumped the man, laying him flat on his back, ready to pounce.

"No! Don't hurt him!" Arya said, surprising him. He leapt off of the man, having an abundance of other targets to choose from. He saw his fellow northmen, Manderly men, losing ground against the numerous Freys that assaulted them. He jumped one, making another that stood behind him fall as well, tearing out their throats in a vicious frenzy. This was good, he thought. This was what he wanted to do all along - fight and win.

"Shoot the ugly mutt!" a Frey man said, interrupting his bloody meal. He saw a few of their crossbowmen aim at him, but he turned tail and ran, dodging their projectiles. He was not going to rush in like a mad dog. He had speed and agility. He would pick at them one by one in quick assaults before disappearing back into the darkness of night. He intercepted a few more skirmishes from the shadows, helping the northerners win or even the odds, at least. It didn't look like much in the grand scale of things, but he was certain it helped. He ran back in the castle, through an alternative entrance. On his way, he found... himself.

Talisa was startled by his presence, nearly dropping his own body which she already struggled with carrying. He rubbed against her leg, not being able to resist the urge to brush up against her, before he led ahead.

"Maester, we have to get you out of here." one Frey lord said, a son of Walder's. "The Valyrian demons are destroying the castle!" He ran to the source of the sound, seeing two soldiers and a man with a maester's chain around his neck. He pounced on the two soldiers, killing them with the savage efficiency Grey Wind possessed. The surviving maester stood there, terrified, and held his hands in front of him in a defensive stance, while Robb slowly paced towards the man.

"Easy boy…" the maester forgot that he was not dealing with a puppy. "I'm your friend…"

He prowled towards the man with a menacing growl, pushing his back to a door.

"I don't have treats in my chambers." the maester shuddered as he spoke. "D-Do you want anything else?"

Behind him he heard Talisa approach with his body. Robb enjoyed the moment of serendipity as he stepped back.

"Maester, please. Help me pull out these bolts." Talisa pleaded.

"I would, but I'm in a bit of a snare here." the maester said. He took that as a sign to cease and went back to Talisa's side. They all entered the laboratory, setting Robb down on a bed before the maester and Talisa started to dislodge the bolts out of Robb's body. He gave a final prod to Talisa, before laying at the side of the bed and falling asleep.

Robb awoke to many guests in his room, along with a sharp pain that soured every breath of his. Only the shallowest breaths would do, lest he provoke the aches in his chest. He slowly opened his eye, already missing the dream he had as Grey Wind – limber, untroubled by pain, not bound to a bed.

"He's awake!" Arya shouted a bit too loudly, making him wince.

"Don't shout!" Sansa lightly shoved her younger sister. He tried to muster a smile at the sight. He looked around, seeing Sansa, Arya, Talisa, Dante and Nero on one side of the bed. He saw Grey Wind on the other, peacefully napping. His mother was laying in another bed, being treated by the maester for her own wound.

"Did all that really happen?" Robb wondered.

"Yes. It did." Nero said. "Quite a wedding, your majesty."

"Arya… You're here as well." Robb said weakly. "I would hug you, had I not suffered these injuries."

"We'll save that for later, then." his younger sister smiled at him.

"Where is uncle Edmure and the Blackfish?" Robb asked

"Uncle Edmure…" Sansa began. At that point someone entered the door. It was uncle Edmure and his new wife. His new Frey wife, Roslin.

"Why…" Robb held a grimace of anger and pain as he tried to prop himself up, only to be settled back into bed by Talisa. "Why is she here?" Robb spat out.

"Robb, Roslin had nothing to do with this debacle, I swear." Edmure said. Robb looked to the girl with disdain, her big doe eyes wide in shock.

"My king, I only-" Roslin swallowed back tears. "I wasn't aware of this conspiracy against you. I-I only heard rumors…"

"Enough." Robb said. He had bigger issues to deal with. What danger could a little girl without a family pose, anyway? "Tell me where uncle Brynden is."

"No trace of him, Robb." his mother said. "He is as slippery as the trout upon our house sigil, I highly doubt the Freys caught him."

"He could've went back to Riverrun." Sansa added.

"That seems most likely." Robb concluded. "What about the Freys? What about our men? Where did lord Bolton go?"

"Lord Bolton was wearing ringmail under his attire. He betrayed us, Robb. The Freys did as well. I suspect the Lannisters promised them a great reward, had they finished this slaughter." Catelyn said. Lord Bolton was one of their strongest allies, despite the ages-old rivalry between their houses. The amount of allies that left his side kept piling up. The Karstarks, Theon, and now – the Boltons…

"Wait." Robb said, once he realized an important consequence of Bolton's betrayal. "The Bolton bastard was supposed to take back Winterfell."

"Gods be good, you're right." Edmure said. Everyone else fell silent as they realized how bad their predicament is.

"Should we wait for the ironborn and the traitors to bleed each other out?" Edmure asked.

"No." Robb said in a tearful, but tranquil fury. "Every moment we wait is an opportunity for either one of them to maraud through the North, pillaging or torturing our people. We will regroup… And go north to take back what is ours."

All Robb wanted for the North was to no longer be at the whims of southerner lords suckling on its resources while basking in the sun. As a consequence, though, he left the North open to any reaver to plunder. He hoped that Jon was at least keeping things secure on his end of the kingdom. Adding wildlings to the mix would devastate the North entirely, leaving it completely unprepared for the coming winter.

"What is the aftermath of this bloody wedding?" Robb asked, hoping someone could have an estimate.

"The Freys are scattered to the wind, but your forces took a heavy toll themselves." Dante said. Robb considered his next request carefully.

"Dante, Nero. I've asked much of you already, but I've one more favor to ask of you." Robb began, the pain overshadowed by his determination to win this war once and for all.

"We will be going North to retake our kingdom. I would like for you to go to King's Landing and seek justice for the atrocity that took place today. Should you do this, I will reward you handsomely."

Dante seemed reluctant to follow through with this. Robb wondered if he truly did ask for too much, considering Nero was also reluctant to even come along for the wedding, until Nero pat Dante on the shoulder and leaned in for a whisper. Once the whispers were exchanged, his dismissive stance was replaced with a surprised one.

"Alright then, Robb. King's Landing it is." Dante said, much to Robb's relief. "Try to avoid any weddings on your way North, alright?"

"I will. Send my regards to the Lannisters once you get to King's Landing." Robb smiled. "Now, if there is nothing else that requires my attention…"

"Actually, there is." said Sansa. Of course there is.

"Let's hear it." Robb needed some rest.

"If you are not feeling well-" Sansa began, before Robb motioned her to go on with it.

"Bring him in." Sansa said. At that moment, a man walked in, flanked by two of his soldiers. Robb has heard of him. A man with a huge burn scar on his face, towering over most – Sandor Clegane. Robb was half a mind to just order his execution then and there, but there probably was a reason they brought him here.

"Your Grace, this man has brought Arya to us safe and unharmed, after he fled the capital during the battle in the Blackwater. He has protected lady Sansa during the ritos in the capital. But, he has also stood idle while Sansa was beaten and abused by the false king Joffrey. What are we to do with him?" one soldier asked.

Robb mulled it over for a good minute before deciding.

"You no doubt expect to be rewarded, or, at the very least, pardoned for bringing my sister alive and well." Robb said. "You have acted both in the interest of my family and against it. You have also proven you're not as eager to hold the line, when push comes to shove. I had thought you more than Joffrey's guard dog." Clegane took offense to that. It was visible on his face, even if he hadn't said anything about it.

"I will give you some gold and a passage to Myr. No doubt the Lannisters are keen on delivering their own justice to you, so consider this your reward. You will also no longer cause trouble for me in the long run." Robb declared, pausing shortly to let the big guy process the words. "As for your punishment, the boat to Myr can be found in White Harbor. It will take some time to get there, as you might have guessed, so you will redeem yourself by fighting at my side before departing."

The Hound was taking the news well, to Robb's surprise. He was a formidable warrior, despite his glaring flaws, and another factor that tipped the scale to his favor, ever so slightly.

"Thank you, your Grace." the Hound grunted out.

He gazed upon everyone present. He could feel his emotions catching up to him after the terrible night he, and everyone he cared for endured. He suppressed them for just a while longer, to dismiss the gathered crowd.

"That will be all. I need to rest." he said, solemnly.

As everyone exited the room, Robb silently let go of the tears he'd welled up through the night. He was at his lowest moment since he took up arms against the Crown. But, he still had the few people he knew he could rely on – his family most of all. Robb had to protect what was his, no matter the cost, and avenge the fallen by taking back his austere homeland.

Vergil, Myr

Vergil found himself in a city renowned for it's craftsmen. Glass seemed to be somewhat of a luxury in this world, mainly used for decorating buildings, but the Myrish have found that glass can be used to make various seeing aids, like the Myrish lenses and Myrish eyes and even actual mirrors. Beyond that, they have medical salves that are a cut above the barbaric practices of mixing herbs and praying that it works, tapestries that don't look like a child's hobby project and many other artisan goods. A lot of the renowned artisans that craft these pieces start off as lowly slaves. Vergil was pleased to see something close to a renaissance city here. If any city seen so far would be worth Vergil's attention, Myr would definitely be it. Unfortunately, Vergil didn't come to enjoy the baroque architecture just yet.

He landed in front of a temple which, despite the sun shining clearly above, had it's braziers and lamps lit. Unlike the previous temple dedicated to the Lord of Light, which was grandiose and ostentatiously painted in the tones of a roaring fire, this one conformed more to the architecture of the city with its white walls, decorated with helical columns and stained glass windows depicting a flame. Viewed at a distance, it looked like an older French cathedral, with a long roof, two tall towers with a flat top at the side of the entrance, and numerous colonnades.

Vergil entered through the front door, greeted by a similar interior to that of the temple in Volantis – red and black with white or gold details, and approached the nearest priest.

"I'd like a word with your high priest." Vergil demanded.

"The high priest?" the graying man said in surprise. "Have you nothing that could be heard by a regular priest?"

The priest wore a red robe that went to the ground, wearing the hood down. White thread tied the seams of his robe and a golden brooch decorated his chest. He was cleaning one of the stained glass windows, wiping the transparent depiction of a blazing heart with a wet rag.

"I'm afraid not." Vergil said to the man and crossed his arms. He wasn't sure at what rank do the priests learn the visions, but he was pretty sure the leader would hold that knowledge.

"Give me a moment, and I'll help you." the red-robed man said as he continued to clean the windows. Vergil watched the man for a brief moment, before he pulled out one of the books he bought and started going through the pages. It was rare to find a book on the topic of Westeros, but tomes on the topic of the Sunset Lands, as they were called here, became more common to find as he advanced westward.

"Young man." the priest called Vergil from a distance, breaking his immersion. "Follow me." Vergil closed the book before pocketing it and went after the old priest, who was now near the sacrificial pit.

The sacrificial pit, unlike in Volantis, was an elevated stone brazier that had marble stairs behind it. On the side that the crowd faced, one would see a stone pillar with embellished corners and a flaming heart engraved upon it, supporting the large fireplace. Vergil and the man stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

"I appreciate your patience, young one. Now, what can I help you with?" the man said.

"Finding the high priest." Vergil repeated.

"You found him." the man smiled warmly. Vergil thought it interesting that the high priest was doing the work of a janitor, instead of lounging and pontificating about the nature of men and magic with others in the higher echelon of their organization.

"I see." Vergil stated. "I came here seeking your visions."

The man pondered his demand for a brief moment. "What would you like me to tell you?" the high priest asked.

"The exact method to seeing a vision in the flame." Vergil stated, making the priest chortle. Once the priest saw Vergil's unyielding seriousness, though, his amusement stopped.

"I'm sorry, but that is a privilege entrusted solely to the priesthood." the priest said.

Vergil uttered his characteristic scoff. He gripped his sword, but he relaxed his grip soon after, knowing that it wouldn't lead to anything but another slaughtered clergy. Even if he did threaten the priest, what is stopping him from giving Vergil an incorrect ritual just as Kinvara did? What would Dante do in this situation? He has a knack for extorting people out of things he wants. Bribery?

"Perhaps some precious gems would…" Vergil tested the waters.

"Keep them to yourself." the man shook his head as he turned away from Vergil, resuming his duties around the temple. Bribery wouldn't work. Vergil thought about other potential options.

As he ruminated on his options, he thought back to every time he managed to persuade someone, quickly realizing he did it based on intimidation alone. He then thought back to every time someone persuaded him. He thought back to his childhood...

Vergil, Sparda Household

Vergil's hair-thin patience was being strained. He finished his daily duties and was seeking refuge in a new book he got. Unfortunately, this book was nowhere to be found. Not where he left it last time, not where he left it two days ago, not even where he set it when he first got it. He checked these places three times already, along with every other possible place in the house. This can only mean one thing.

"Dante!" he knocked on his annoying brother's room. "Get out of there and face me, you wretch!"

"Stop using those made up words and maybe I will!" Dante answered from behind the door.

Vergil didn't have time for his brother's drivel. He opened the door with a slam and, immediately upon scanning the room, he saw his book. As he rushed to pick it up, Dante appeared in front of him, blocking his advance.

"Get out of my way, Dante." Vergil growled.

"You want the book?" Dante rhetorically asked. "On one condition."

"What. Is. It." Vergil demanded aggressively, as if every word he said had the potential to set the world aflame.

"A few rounds of sword fighting." Dante's smug smile graced his idiotic face. Vergil glared at him for a while before finally responding

"It's on." A hint of a smile could be seen on Vergil's lips as he was ready to eviscerate Dante for delaying his literary progress.

Vergil, Myr

Back in Myr, Vergil closed his eyes and sighed. Would he really do this? He saw the priest gather some reagents and whisper a prayer. Vergil set aside his dignity and approached the man from behind. He snatched the ingredients out of his hand with a graceful quickness and lifted them out of his reach. The man wore a face of disbelief. The priest tried snatching the ingredients from Vergil's hand, fruitlessly, a few times, before giving up.

"Why?" the priest asked in exasperation. "What do you gain from this."

"A small dose of amusement, regrettably" Vergil said as the sides of his mouth curved upwards ever so slightly. "You know what I want."

"If I call on my guards, you'll get more than you bargained for." the priest threatened.

"If you call on your guards, someone else will be getting these reagents. Someone more… cooperative." Vergil threatened back.

The priest and the slayer held their gaze at each other, as the guards closed in to investigate the situation. Eventually, the priest broke, waving off the guards.

"Alright, fine. I'll tell you." the priest barked out. "First, tell me why do you want this knowledge."

"Scholarly curiosity." Vergil lied.

"Scholarly curiosity…" the priest said sarcastically. "I don't need a vision from my Lord to see through a lie so blatant." Vergil huffed at the man's disbelief.

"Fine then. I wish to gain knowledge from your God." Vergil said.

"He will not answer to infidels. Make sure to underline that part in your… scholarly notes." the man sneered at Vergil.

"To get a vision, first you need a blood sacrifice offered onto the altar. Any amount will do, even a leechful." the man began, making Vergil raise an eyebrow at the unorthodox unit of measurement.

"You will need to write your desires on a piece of paper, which you'll burn in the fire."

"Would one need to bleed on that piece of paper?" Vergil asked.

"If you really want to." the priest said after a bit of contemplation. "You also need ebony dust, dragon's blood resin, as well as a few sage leaves." Vergil noted how this ritual deviated from what Kinvara demonstrated.

"If I used the living root of a rotted dahlia flower?" Vergil asked.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" the priest asked in shock. "Under no circumstances should you do something like that."

"As for the last ingredient…" the priest continued. "I may have remembered a favor you could do for me before I reveal it." Vergil narrowed his gaze. He was close to dismissing this request outright, before he decided he would at least hear it out.

"State your business." Vergil said.

"There is a man in this city, seeking to convert people to his false god. A follower of the Black Goat of Qohor." the priest explained. "Time and time again, they seek to establish their cult here, and each time we beat them back to Qohor, one way or another. Find this man, and make his death as inconspicuous as possible. After that, I'll reveal the last piece needed for the ritual." the priest said sternly. "Perhaps, by doing this, you will gain the right attention for your ritual to be successful."

Perhaps, Vergil thought. It's also possible that the Lord of Light would not look past his massacre in the temple in Volantis.

"It shall be done." Vergil said, as he turned for the exit, stepping out into the fresh Myrish air. He walked in a leisurely pace through the city, passing through the various squares filled to the brim with various street performers, musicians and merchants, vying to capture the attention of the passing crowd even for a brief moment. Vergil was on the lookout for a crowd gathered around a single orator. As he focused on a man giving a speech to several gathered, he bumped into two people. He stepped back to see who dared to present himself as an obstacle.

"Good afternoon. Are you from around here?" one of them asked. Vergil looked at the two hazelnut-colored men. They had gaudy blue suits, with a pink and white trim, and wore swords at their side.

"No." Vergil said as he tried to move past them, only for them to move in front of his way again.

"It's not allowed for foreigners to carry swords openly in the streets, without a letter of approval from the magisters." the man spoke up again.

"Tell the magisters to write me a letter, then." Vergil said. "Now, out of my way." he shoved the men away, moving past them. The tight crowd moved away from the scene, keeping their distance from Vergil.

The men drew their steel, and approached Vergil, hoping to incapacitate him with a thrust to the leg, which Vergil didn't even need to see to anticipate. In a deft motion, he dodged their thrusts, drew Yamato and sliced their blades off their handles, all in a single graceful spin.

"If I need to draw up the letter, it will be writ in blood. Now go." Vergil sternly told them. The men ran away, still clutching onto their defanged blades as Vergil carefully sheathed back Yamato and continued his walk. He refocused the gaze onto the man who, with some nervousness, continued to talk about the economic issues his smithing guild faced. Not being a religious preacher, Vergil stopped paying attention to him and kept walking. The crowd was now giving the dark slayer a wide berth as he progressed through the various streets and alleys of Myr.

The city seemed like Fortuna, at first glance, with the renaissance/gothic architecture casting the main silhouette, but there were many details that show the influence of the Valyrians, Ghiscari, Westerosi, and many others who Myr interacted with. The previous plaza wouldn't be out of place in Italy, considering the crenelated stone castle that, surprisingly, had a functioning clock on its largest watchtower.

Passing through the street that led to the next square, however, has shown the details that one would not expect in a city like this. A large building with three arches in a distinctly oriental style could be found on his left side – a Meereenese family made its home there, after relocating here a few centuries ago. In the middle of the wide street one could find a miniature bronze ziggurat statue, no taller than the average man. A gift from Astapor, as the inscription on it said.

He advanced to another square, where, among the mass of merchants, he saw another person who fit the profile of the man he was looking for. He approached the gathering from the side, intent on seeming as if his interest was elsewhere while he eavesdropped the speech.

"...for this is the true nature of the god I espouse. R'hllor is a Lord, and you are his serf. He seeks to rule over you and demand your tithe in blood. The Great Shepherd sees you as his sheep. He sits idly by while wolves tear you to shreds. The Cult of Starry Wisdom seeks the knowledge of the void beyond, not knowing what the inky darkness might hide. The Black Goat is there to aid you, nourish you, keep you warm and help you climb upon the highest mountain." the soft-spoken preacher explained.

"What about the fire sacrifices? Is that how he will warm us?" a woman from the crowd asked, prompting a few chuckles from the crowd.

"He doesn't ask the same blood the Lord of Light does. Unlike R'hllor, you are only asked to bring your calves to sacrifice. Fire is merely a conduit to the realm of the Gods, as many other religions have found out. Even the savages of the Lord of Light. The calves know how you treat them, and they will whisper of your treatment in His ear. Should you have proven yourself kind to them, the Black Goat will entrust you with good fortune and dexterity. Even a goat has the acuity to understand a mutually beneficial agreement." the man explained with a smile.

The crowd didn't address the man further, instead talking amongst themselves.

"Each and every one present here do me a great honor by lending your ear to this one's sermons. I will return the favor, for I will bring a heifer to the fire and beseech the Black Goat to bless you all. This I promise." the preacher said. "I will be here tomorrow morning. Now I must return to my personal duties." the man explained as he got off his makeshift podium and left through an alley leading from the square. Vergil quickly followed. He kept a respectful distance, not wanting to alarm the man. Once they were in a sufficiently secluded place, around some run-down houses, did Vergil close the distance and approach the man.

"Oh! You startled me… Blessings upon you, my child." the preacher said, smiling. His black, sharp beard made him look like a black goat as well. "How may I assist you?"

"You will pay for what you did." Vergil heard someone say from behind. Turning around, he saw the two buffoons that blocked his path earlier. This time, however, they brought friends.

"Will I?" Vergil asked, raising his chin at the men. "Is your magister so short on funds that even a simple letter must be reimbursed?"

The man smiled, his darker features contrasting the white grin he wore. He flicked his head to move the hair out of his eyes as he approached Vergil.

"The only letter our magister will send is to your next of kin." the man said. "I hope that sword of yours wasn't a family heirloom, though, because I'm taking it."

Vergil laughed. "Give it your best shot, then." he said, prompting the men to charge in unison.

Vergil summoned his Force Edge out of thin air, quickly parrying the attacks of two men and avoiding their follow-up attacks, lining them up for a lunge that pierced them both. He noticed two of the charging men stopped and took aim with crossbows. He ended that pathetic attempt by sending two particularly large mirage blades at them, almost as large as his summoned broadsword, which cut one of the men in two, while sending the other man flying in a backflip. He grabbed a man charging at him and slammed him against the ground, painting the black cobblestone with various shades of red.

He saw the man that taunted him, and threatened to take his sword away, clutch the cooling body of his fallen friend, before standing up to face Vergil. The man went for an attack which was easily parried, setting himself up for an easy counter-attack, which Vergil went for. The man dodged Vergil's counter-attack with a surprising deftness, though, as he reached for his pocket, which held a small flask. The tacky-clothed man threw the vial at Vergil's face, who didn't have time to ponder what fluid covered his upper body, before the man grabbed a dagger and aimed to stab Vergil's throat. The tables turned on the man, though, once Vergil got a hold of the man's hand and twisted his wrist, forcing him to drop the dagger in pain. He kept his grip on the man's hand, until the pain made him drop down on his knees. Once his wrist was free, however, did the man, once again, pull out another dagger to stab Vergil with. At this point, however, the man's undeniable dexterity was clouded by the pain, making him miss his mark by a long shot. Vergil disarmed him with a kick, before pulling out his katana, as if to appraise it in the dim orange glow peering through the windows in the alley.

"Is this what you wanted?" Vergil asked the man before stabbing him with the sword in question. "By all means, then. Here you go." Vergil bisected the man, pulling the sword back in an upward motion, before sheathing it with a flourish, sending arcs of blood onto the surrounding buildings.

Scanning the area around him, he noticed that no living soul remained standing in his vicinity, meaning that his original mark fled the area. He wiped his face clean of the blood and the contents of the vial before proceeding with his hunt. There was only one way the priest could've went, but as he continued further, multiple little alleys appeared at the sides, offering a myriad of possibilities where the preacher might have went. Vergil opted to gain a top-down view of the district from the rooftops. Once he scaled a bell tower, did he see a familiar figure hastily making his way down a cobbled alley. He tracked the man until he saw him enter a dingy house with a backyard, on the district's outskirts.

Vergil went to the house, stealthily, entering it and seeing the man light a fire in his backyard with a live goat tied nearby. The chants the man spoke were loud enough to disguise Vergil's approach.

"We meet again." Vergil told the man. The preacher yelled in surprise once he heard Vergil speak to him.

"Please. I don't know why those men were after you, if that's what you're wondering." the man scrambled for excuses to appease Vergil.

"Do you know why I am after you?" Vergil asked. The preacher shook his head frantically. "It's because someone wants you dead. Someone who has what I need."

Vergil shoved the man into the funeral pyre he constructed for himself, holding him down with his boot as he burned, only stopping once the man's flailing did. He made his way to the entrance, stopping by a shelf to pick up a golden insignia of a horned goat's head.

It was late night once he returned to the red god's temple, arriving in the middle of a wake held by several priests. He didn't spot the man he previously talked with in the lines of red-cloaked men and women, so he approached one of the priests that was holding a candle.

"Where's the high priest?" Vergil asked the priest, to which he got no response, as if he wasn't there. He shoved past the clergy in annoyance before entering the chamber in the back. In it, he saw the high priest converse with a priestess whose appearance was not unlike Kinvara's. They both tensed up at Vergil's appearance.

"Ah, the hired blade returns." the man commented as Vergil threw him the insignia he picked up at the preacher's house. "With good news as well!"

"And now for your end of the bargain." Vergil spoke up. "The last ingredient."

"The last ingredient…" the priest began. "I was willing to give you my own supply of it, but I've ran out." The priestess sat silently and kept switching her gaze between Vergil and the high priest.

"I will find it myself, if you tell me what the damn thing is already." Vergil said rather impatiently. The pair of priests were frightened by the outburst. Was it because they heard of the incident with the enforcers on the street, Vergil wondered.

The priest calmed himself before speaking up: "The ingredient is a secret, distributed furtively between our ranks." he said. "While my own supply has dried up, the temple in Tyrosh still remains stocked up."

The priest reaches for the table, picking up a scroll and handing it to Vergil. "Here, this is a coded letter that should earn you some through my authority as a high priest. Hand it to a priest in Tyrosh and that should conclude our business here." the man finally finished.

Vergil tucked the letter safely in his suit as he left the priest's chambers. He stopped before he crossed the exit, briefly turning towards the two anxious priests.

"Thank you." Vergil said, before leaving and taking flight as the first rays of the dawning sun shone upon Myr.

Vergil, Tyrosh

Tyrosh was a quaint twin to Myr, having a very similar cityscape to it. The people, though, were different. It was if the whole area was populated by buffoons not unlike the two that tested their meager skills against Vergil in the dark alleyways of Myr. Usually, this wouldn't be much of an issue, but the Temple of the Red God in Tyrosh wasn't easily spotted, and he was forced to rely on the locals for directions.

"This is the last time I will ask nicely." Vergil said in a low growl, as he held a man against the wall "Where is the Red God's temple?"

"My lord will hear about this!" the man uttered his sentences between hoarse gasps for air. "Once he does… You will be shoveling shit from the stables for the rest of your life!"

Vergil dropped the man, before proceeding to find someone more useful. In a tight uphill street, he came across a mother with two young children. Those tended to be averse to conflict.

"Good morning." Vergil began. "Where can I find the temple of the Lord of Light?"

The woman was slightly surprised at his query, before she pointed up the street at a small, domed chapel with two chimneys and a symbol of a burning heart on top of the dome.

"Thank you." Vergil said, exhausted, as he was finally ready to wrap this up. He pushed on the door only to find the temple – locked.

"Strange…" Vergil muttered, before knocking on the door. He waited for a while, looking at the crowd passing by, before knocking again. This time, he waited for a while longer, but still nobody opened, not a single sound emanated from the chapel. Perhaps the woman gave him the wrong information.

Vergil assumed the woman was wrong, so he continued around town, looking for any other building that fit the description of a fire cult's lair. Soon enough he was in front of a building reminiscent of the one in Myr. Knocking at the door, a young lady with red hair came out to greet him. This was surely the place.

"Blessings upon you." she said with a beaming smile. "How may this one help?"

Vergil handed the letter, which she opened to read, but as she began, she looked at the scroll with confusion that was plain to see.

"What is this, I do not understand?" she turned to Vergil.

"Then give it to someone here who understands." Vergil plainly offered the solution to her problem.

"Follow me, we might have a person." she motioned for Vergil, and he followed her inside.

Along the way he saw a multitude of rooms, with many children that played in them, only stopping their games to gaze at Vergil with a sense of wonder. Vergil met their gazes with a hard one, but most didn't shy away. Curious. It seems this is where they train their future guards and clergy. They came to a room where a man was giving lessons to several children.

"Here is our scribe, he is well versed with many languages. Maybe he can decipher this." the woman said. Isn't this a shared code between them? Why is this procedure in place?

"Blessings upon you." the scribe greeted him. "What do you have for me."

Upon being handed the letter, the man was just as confused as everyone else.

"I haven't seen anything like this." the scribe commented.

"Foolishness." Vergil stated. "Aren't you supposed to know? The priest in Myr told me to come here."

"What priest, I-" the man began before Vergil interrupted.

"The high priest in the Temple of the Lord of Light in Myr." Vergil explained impatiently. "He sent me here. Now stop wasting my time. I need the reagent for the ritual of visions. You should know which one."

"My good man, I fear there has been a misunderstanding." the man began timidly. "This is an orphanage."

Vergil tried not to look dumbfounded as he received this information. He exhaled, trying to let go of the frustration, before speaking up again.

"I see." Vergil began in a quiet tone. "Do you perhaps know where I can find the temple?"

"You'll find it near the inner walls, opposite of the harbor. It's a small chapel with a fireheart symbol on its dome." the man explained.

Vergil wasted no time leaving the forsaken facility. He flew to the place, but realized it was the very same chapel that didn't respond to his knocking. This time, he didn't bother with knocking on the door. He kicked it down and was greeted with… nothing?

The torches weren't lit, and neither were the braziers. Not a single heartbeat echoed in the chamber, except Vergil's own. He proceeded further into the object, finding a set of spiral stairs that led down into a basement, only to find… nothing yet again.

He decided to scour the shelves and the cellars for anything useful, but they, too, were as empty as the rest of the temple, save for a few common household items like salt, spices, bread and a common prayer book.

"I've had enough of this." Vergil said to himself, as he pulled out his katana and cut the air in front of him in a cross motion, slicing reality apart and opening a dark swirling rift that led him to…

Vergil, Myr

Vergil was ready to commit another atrocity on holy ground if the priest didn't explain where his fellow clergymen in Tyrosh went, but as he stepped out of the rift, and into the temple sanctum, he noticed that this place too was empty as the one in Tyrosh. Every brazier extinguished, every person evacuated… As if they were all wiped off of the face of the land. Vergil burst through the temple doors in an overly conspicuous fashion, making some of the people passing by paralyzed with shock, while others were sent running for their lives as the splintered fragments of the large wooden door were sent flying across the area in front of him. With a hasty step, Vergil approached one man who chose not to run away.

"Where are the priests?" Vergil asked.

"I don't know, they've been closed since morning." the man said.

To say that Vergil was unhappy with the outcome would be an understatement of great proportions. Vergil took in several deep breaths before approaching the building again and heading inside it. He walked slowly to the inner sanctum, passing the altar, passing the brazier, but stopping at one of the three main pillars. He tightened his fist, reeling it back for a punch, as his demonic gauntlets appeared, before he hit the pillar, sending a sizable piece of stone from it into the other two pillars, effectively knocking them all down.

He kicked the outer wall of the temple as well, effectively shattering the structural integrity of the old temple, and demolishing it in two swings. As the temple came on top of itself, a crowd gathered around to witness the last moments of the crumbling building. The only thing they saw emerge from the ruins was a white haired man with a blue coat and a cold gaze, before he transformed into a demon and flew away.

Nero, the Twins.

The dim glow of torches on the wall illuminated the tense scene. It was just Nero and Dante now, both of them holding a steely gaze as the situation they found themselves in approached its climax.

"You sure you want to do this?" Nero asked, his sharp visage appearing sinister in the orange light.

"I've never been more sure of anything, buddy boy." Dante said in a dark tone, fixing a cocky grin at Nero.

"Think about this. You might lose everything you got so far." Nero warned him.

"That won't happen. Trust me." Dante held his gaze at Nero. "As for you, though…"

"Worry about yourself." Nero shot back. "What you're doing is incredibly stupid."

"Not as stupid as what you did." Dante commented. "Now, watch…"

Dante laid his cards on the table . "Full house, kid. Jackpot!"

"Not so fast, Dante." Nero said as Dante was about to scoop up the pile of gold, laying down a four-of-a-kind on the table. "I told you not to go all-in."

Dante stared at Nero's cards in disbelief, before letting his head fall on the table in exasperation, as Nero continued to gloat: "It's like this pile never left my hands."

"I miss playing with Vergil." Dante commented, the table muffling his voice.

"I wonder…" Nero began. "Does he just say 'Card games are foolish, do not bother me with this foolishness'?"

"Sometimes, yes." Dante said, as he lifted his head to face Nero. "Anyways, we were supposed to visit Robb after this round and lay out our plan for the road-trip."

"Right…" Nero said as he got up from his chair and put the chest of gold somewhere safe, before they exited the room. The wedding, as a consequence, made the two Frey castles much less crowded, considering most of the Freys have been put to the sword. Pretty much every surviving guard or soldier on the Stark side has had their own room. As they walked to Robb's chamber, passing many of the guards in the castle, many saluted the duo, some even kneeling to show respect.

"You think he's awake?" Nero asked.

"He'd better be. As fun as losing my gold in poker games to you might be…" Dante said before being interrupted.

"Hey, it's my gold." Nero interjected. "We were just splitting it for the sake of the game."

"Don't forget the affiliate fee for each job I find you." Dante said.

"What? You didn't find the Stark girl for me." Nero exclaimed.

"But I did discover this world, which led you here, to the Stark girl." Dante said smugly.

"Didn't Vergil stumble upon it?" Nero asked.

"He's my brother, it still counts." Dante said with a smile.

"Whatever." Nero said. "Speaking of Vergil, why do you think is taking him so long to find us?"

"Beats me." Dante answered. "I just hope he isn't causing trouble that we will have to fix down the road. Anyways, we're here."

Knocking on the door three times to announce their arrival, Talisa, who kept watch over him, told them to come in. They entered the chamber to see Robb awake, looking much less pale than he did on the wedding night.

"Dante, Nero." Robb smiled. "It's good to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Hey Robb." Dante began. "How are your injuries?"

"They're healing quickly." Talisa said. "I think he could be up and about in a few days."

"Is that so?" Dante said with a light hum. "Well, in that case, you might want to hear what we think about our trip to the capital."

Robb's smile died down as both him and Talisa were looking at Dante with trepidation. Nero glanced to Dante, wondering if he could've possibly presented their case in a less dramatic fashion.

"See, I don't think it's alright for us to go to the capital to avenge your family." Dante began, earning the shocked gazes of the couple. "Not without you coming along, at least." Dante smiled as he finished.

Robb settled back into his bed, as he was propping himself up after Dante's first sentence. His humor is an acquired taste, to be sure. "Without me coming along? Why do you need me, exactly?"

"It's your case, not ours. You should be the one presenting it." Dante said. "We will watch your back and you get to see justice at work."

What Dante said to Robb echoed a sentence his own father told him years ago: The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Still, he had his reservations.

"The Lannisters won't agree to a fair trial. They will do anything to keep their control over the Iron Throne." Robb replied. "Not only that, but any time a Stark traveled south to King's Landing, they didn't come back."

"Those Starks didn't have Dante and me watching their backs." Nero said in a cocky tone. "It's gonna be fine."

Robb seemed to consider it again, before asking another question.

"When do we leave?" Robb asked.

"When you recover enough for the trip." Nero said. "Don't want you to start leaking from the holes those bastards put in you during the trip down south."

"I will inform you when I myself am ready. In the meantime, tell the guards to summon my bannermen here." Robb said.

"Will do." Dante said.

"See ya soon, Robb." Nero said, as they both exited the room, leaving Talisa and Robb in the room alone.

Robb Stark, The Twins

Robb exhaled as the pair left his room, glancing over to his wife-to-be, who didn't meet his gaze and held a face of disagreement.

"What's wrong, love?" Robb asked.

"You know what is wrong." Talisa firmly stated. "The fact that you will go in the heartland of your enemies on a suicide adventure, leaving me here."

Robb calmed his initial reaction before answering: "Would you rather come with us on the suicide mission?"

"I would rather you don't go there at all!" Talisa said. "You yourself just said that Starks lead short lives in the south. Think of our child…"

"I am, that's why I'm summoning my bannermen right now. To destroy the enemies currently in our homeland." Robb said. "As for why I'm going, it is to fight the enemies outside my homeland. Dante is right, I must see this through myself."

"Talisa." Robb said, meeting her downcast gaze. "It's going to be alright. I am one trip away from finishing this war with the Lannisters. One trip away from giving little Eddard a peaceful childhood."

Talisa sat silent for a while before looking back at Robb. "Those two better keep you safe, or else… Or else I'll hurt them!"

Robb smiled. It's one thing to be a Valyrian demon of death, but not even the fires of hell may protect them from Talisa's wrath.

"My lord." a guard entered the room. "Your sworn bannermen are here."

"Good. Send them in." Robb said as the guard motioned for them to enter. The council he so hastily assembled was different from the one he had before his first battle. Roose Bolton was not present, Maege Mormont was absent as well, staying at her injured daughter's side. The rest looked utterly exhausted as they diligently assembled, their eyes betraying their true feelings, as they haven't yet truly recovered from the wedding.

"My lords." Robb began. "I have decided upon our next course of action. As it stands, we are fighting multiple wars on two fronts. One with the Lannisters on the south, and another with the ironborn and the Boltons in our homeland." Bolton's betrayal was shocking to the rest, but many were eager to turn on their former ally, claiming the Boltons are depraved and cruel beyond measure, based on early legends of their forefathers.

"After the events of the wedding here, we simply cannot afford to lead a war on two fronts. Our banners will be going back north to retake our homes from the reavers and bandits." Robb said before turning to one of his bannermen. "Lord Glover, I put you at the head of this army and trust you to lead this war. I want you, all of you, to crush them all and return the North to its rightful rulers."

Lord Glover nodded, looking a bit confused. "Aye, your Grace. It shall be done."

"On the other hand, I will march down south with Dante and Nero, and personally see that the Lannisters face justice for their crimes." This got many varying reactions from the assembled lords.

"What? The soldiers need their king now more than ever." Lord Cerwyn said. "You should come retake the north with us, before focusing on Tywin and Joffrey."

"I don't trust those silver-headed pricks to keep you alive in the capital." Lord Umber said. "I should come with you just in case."

"Why not split up the two sellswords? One of them is surely capable enough to guard you. Maybe even take over the city by himself?" Lord Hornwood added. "We could use a man like that against the Boltons."

"My decision has already been made." Robb said, quieting his sworn lords. "When I, hopefully, return to the North, it will be with Joffrey's head and into a squidless Winterfell." he looked around to see if any more disagreement would crop up from the assembled lords. "Now, if there are no more questions, then I declare that our brief council meeting has adjourned and that I would like to return to my rest, as I'm sure you do, as well."

With that, they bowed out and exited his room. He turned to Talisa, who remained at the outskirts of the council, waiting for the wrap-up, before approaching Robb.

"It's only now that I realize what I'm doing." Robb said. "I will be going where my father died, and his father before him. My uncle Brandon as well…"

"I'd rather have you go afraid than cocky." Talisa said. "You're not Nero, you cannot lift thrones, which means you should be careful about this. Those two will protect you, I'm sure, but the Lannisters might find a way past them. They might poison your cup, they might kill you on the privy,…"

"I know…" Robb said. "They will find a way to get rid of me once I'm there. I just have to find a way to get rid of them before they do."

"Has it occurred to you that Dante and Nero can just conquer the city without any trials or tribulations?" Talisa asked.

"Only if I want the rest of the kingdoms to antagonize me for destroying the capital, especially since Dante and Nero will eventually depart in search of their own land. Who will protect me then?" Robb said. "No, I need to prove that the Lannisters aren't worthy of their position in King's Landing. It's what father sought to do there. Whoever gets placed on the throne after that is none of my concern."

"What if they place you on the throne?" Talisa said.

"I'm struggling with one kingdom. I can not imagine the troubles I'd have with six more of them." Robb explained. "I don't want the Iron Throne."

Talisa approached Robb. "If any of the other four kings in this war were put in your position, they wouldn't last a single day." she said. "If you ask me, you'd be the best king of Westeros."

"Are you saying this because you want to be queen of the Seven Kingdoms yourself?" Robb asked. "I didn't know my wife would be so ambitious." Talisa smiled at his jape.

"And I didn't know my husband would outright refuse to rule seven kingdoms." she smiled.

"I doubt those fancy southerners would even accept a 'Northern barbarian' like me as their king." Robb said. "And I prefer it that way. There's a reason why Starks don't do well in that snake pit."

After a moment of silence, Robb decided he had enough excitement for a day that was supposed to be spent resting. He bode Talisa a good night and delved into a deep rumination about his trip to King's Landing, before falling asleep.

Daenerys Targaryen, Yunkai

It was afternoon when Daenerys lounged in the garden with ser Barristan, ser Jorah, Missandei and Nassera. Usually, the three advisors would be busy, but this day had seen her advisor in economy free enough to afford basking in the sun with her new queen.

"It sure is a nice day today." Daenerys commented the obvious. "No high winds, nor sweltering heat."

"It is indeed, your Grace." Missandei confirmed.

"Maybe it is by Yunkish standards." ser Jorah said. "This much sun almost makes me miss Bear Island."

"How was the weather there, ser Jorah?" Daenerys asked.

"Either cloudy or snowing. You'd rarely see the sun shine like this." ser Jorah explained, before they returned to the silence.

Daenerys took the opportunity the silence granted to think again of how her fortunes changed so wildly in these past few weeks. From a khaleesi, to a beggar in front of Qarth. From leading the remnants of her Khalasar, to conquering one city and ruling another. Where she currently is, though, she finally had a taste for what she truly wants – rulership. It took her a few days to adjust to the fact that she is no longer merely an exiled princess, or the wife of a great Khal, but the ruler of a city older than her own family. While the position entailed many duties, especially due to the friction caused by the recent power shift, she was taking to these tasks quite easily. Indeed, she was slowly, but surely, reshaping Yunkai into a city that no longer clung to its old Ghiscari heritage of slavery and corruption. While most of the slaves were free, many still kept their position, though under much better conditions, considering they had no other place to go. Some unveiled the skills they secretly possessed, but had hidden during their servitude, earning renown in their field of trade. Some, though, merely abandoned the city, seeking to return to the villages and tribes they were once captured from and restart their lives there, or perhaps start a new life far from the city they were originally enslaved in.

"It's nice to have you join us here, lady Zakahr" Daenerys said once she broke out of her thoughts.

"Thank you." the woman said. The woman seemed to be least inclined to supplicate, out of the three former masters. Emahr's mellifluous words were too eager to please, and Drazhar's topics were overly technical in nature. Either talking about the Unsullied, or his own honor guard, or asking about Vergil and Dante…

Even now, she wonders about what the pair are doing in Westeros. The trio, actually, would be more accurate now, she thought. Sometimes, when the work in Yunkai was overwhelming to her, she thought about the three warriors, hoping they'd arrive and inform her that King's Landing was cleared of usurpers and waiting for her to sit on the throne, finally putting an end to this journey of hers.

"How are you handling the new change, lady Zakahr?" Daenerys asked.

"The masters complain, but I appease them with the profits we now make. The slaves we freed are grateful, but finding it difficult to adjust to the responsibility of freedom."

"Responsibility of freedom?" Daenerys asked. "What is meant by that?"

"Previously, the work they had was assigned to them by the wise masters, such as myself. Now, they have to find the work themselves, else they return to their homes with empty pockets and hungry bellies. Several masters have decided to work as arbitrators, effectively bridging the unemployed workers and the unfinished work." Nassera elaborated. The two knights guarding her have engaged in conversation with one another, as well. Talking about shields while Nassera and Daenerys kept conversing.

"I see, I'm glad it's being solved." Daenerys said, while Nassera smiled slightly. "I am still wondering how you, personally, are taking in my arrival."

Nassera shifted her gaze around, before giving an answer. "I have not expected it to go this way. Personally, I expected more upheaval, but your Unsullied, as well as your dragons deserve praise for keeping the peace." Nassera said. "If there is one request I could make, silver queen, it would be to find a way to keep our coffers full."

Daenerys nodded, before Nassera continued. "Yunkai has previously earned its gold by selling slaves, as did the other cities in Slaver's Bay. Without that, we will be draining the city's treasury just to keep everyone fed."

"That is where Qarth will come in useful." Daenerys smiled. "Qarth, Qarkash, Port Yhos… All of those are merchant cities that will bring us money, and give the people of Yunkai another city to ply their trade in."

Nassera nodded as she took in what Daenerys said, seemingly in approval.

"Your Grace?" a man arrived, one of Emahr's messengers. "Master Emahr sent me to inform you that Qarth sent their answer."

The sunbathing was over, once those words were said, as everyone from the garden made their way into the council room.

"Do you think the Qartheen have opted for the peaceful approach?" ser Barristan asked.

"Unlikely." ser Jorah answered. "They are overly proud, calling their city 'the greatest that ever was or will be'. I highly doubt such arrogance would be so easily subdued."

Daenerys didn't weigh in. The city will be hers regardless of their answer. The only choice they have is whether they want to taste her family words before submitting – Fire and Blood.

As they entered, Emahr and Drazhar were already present in the great chamber, along with Grey Worm, their gaze following the arriving party as they approached the podium.

"What news from Qarth?" Daenerys asked briefly, the sooner she got an answer, the sooner they can plan their next move. The two men merely exchanged a glance, before one of them spoke up.

"Shall I read the contents of the letter, or would you like to read by yourself?" Emahr asked.

"Read it aloud for all present to hear." Daenerys ordered the man, who began reading in a tone unlike his regular voice.

"To Daenerys Targaryen." the man began in a deep sonorous voice. "We have considered your generous offer of servitude and considered it carefully. Unfortunately, we at the Council of Thirteen cannot possibly submit our city, the Queen of Cities, to the consort of a dead barbarian, nor to someone who allies themselves with forces that ransacked Qarth. We wish you good luck in any future endeavours and conquests. You will need it."

The performance Emahr gave almost made up for the insults written in the letter. Qarth chose to walk the path of war.

"So be it." Daenerys said. "Grey Worm, Leave a contingent of Unsullied in Yunkai to keep the peace and prepare the rest for war." Grey Worm stiffly nodded.

"Drazhar, you will be contributing your soldiers to this effort as well. I wish to see your vaunted honor guard on the field."

Drazhar was surprised by the request. "My queen, my honor guard is meant to be at my side." he said with indignation.

"Indeed it is. You will be coming along as well." Daenerys continued. "Emahr will also be joining us." earning the shock of the other advisor of hers.

"Great queen, I am flattered by your invitation, but my place is with the diplomats and the councilors, not with the soldiers." the man hastily explained, though a nervous laughter.

"I am bringing you in case Qarth's confidence gets shaken by the presence of my army and my dragons. Perhaps there might be room for a peaceful negotiation after all, which is why you need to be there." Daenerys elaborated on Emahr's concerns.

"The two dragon-warriors are convincing as well." Drazhar added. "Will they be joining us?"

Daenerys wondered a while who Drazhar zo Fiqhar might be referring to, until she realized he meant Vergil and Dante. Her two chance allies that are no longer around. The Yunkish believe they are, though, which is what convinced them to lay down their arms in the first place.

"They are seeing to another task on the west." Daenerys responded, a bit too hastily, not wanting to outright lie nor give away the true standing she had. "Qarth was agitated by their previous visit there. I am firm in my belief that they might only antagonize the Qartheen."

"Forgive me, your Grace" ser Barristan spoke up. "But why are you insistent on a peaceful approach with Qarth, even after they sent their insult?"

"The old man is right." Drazhar added. "We have the strength to overtake all of Qarth. With your dragons and our warriors, we could turn Qarth into dust!"

"Because I do not want to rule over dust, nor ashes." Daenerys rebutted harshly, stunning the bloodthirsty advisor. "Now, let us discuss strategy…" she turned to a guard. "Summon the sellsword captains here, as well."

"Yes, my queen." the Yunkish guard answered.

The planning was well underway when the captains finally arrived. Among them, of course, the roguish one, who bowed ceremoniously as he entered.

"I bid you welcome, brave captains. We were just going over the possible routes of attack." Emahr greeted them. The discussion went well into the night, as she took the suggestions from her surrounding advisors, guards and captains, trying to refine all of those ideas into something concrete. Once a preliminary strategy had been established, the advisors and captains went to their sleeping quarters, agreeing to reconvene tomorrow, leaving Daenerys in the chamber with ser Jorah, ser Barristan, Grey Worm and Missandei.

"Their suggestions seem sound." Daenerys spoke, hoping to hear what her most loyal advisors thought of the advisors of Yunkai. "Do you think them loyal to our cause?"

"We will see their loyalty tested on the field." ser Barristan said. "I believe they imagined themselves relaxing here, in the palace, while we were fighting on the front lines."

"I do not trust the sellsword captains, nor the diplomat." ser Jorah added. "Especially the dramatic one. They seem far too inclined to please."

"Khaleesi, forgive me if ask." Grey Worm rigidly spoke in Common. Missandei was tutoring him in the language of the Westerosi, making great progress, but Grey Worm's sentences still had the structure of Valyrian ones. "The… shadow-dragon men… These ones not present, but wise masters ask for them." The topic arose again, of course.

"I believe that the Yunkish fear us thanks to Vergil's sacking of Meereen." Daenerys explained. "We could lose a lot by informing them of their departure."

Grey Worm processed the sentence before answering. "I understand… But... lie not get better with time. Worse it get." he spoke stiffly.

"Your Grace, this reminds me of another question." ser Barristan said. "You plan on returning to Westeros, of course, to take your rightful place as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Of course." Daenerys nodded.

"Then I wonder why are you willing to dull the blades of your Unsullied on the walls of Qarth – a place which leads you away from Westeros, rather than bring you closer to it." ser Barristan said.

"Eager to return home, are we, ser Barristan?" ser Jorah said. "Need I remind you how long we haven't seen our homeland?"

"I am aware, but this is waste of time and men, especially since you plan on leaving Slaver's Bay." ser Barristan said.

"It is not a waste of time if I am freeing the men, women and children held in chains by the masters of Slaver's Bay." Daenerys countered.

"While the Yunkish advisors are compliant currently, I believe they will revert to their old ways the very second you depart the city." ser Barristan explained. "Do you have any plan to prevent that?"

"I'm afraid I don't have anything yet..." Daenerys said after pondering.

"Then you can see why I think all of this is for naught, only exhausting our troops and resources before we even set foot into Westeros." ser Barristan added. "Time is on the Lannister's side. Each day that passes is another day people forget about the Targaryen rulers of old, and your claim to the throne."

"With each day, people grow more discontent with the Lannister rule as well." Daenerys said. "It is not a desperate race against time. Soon, the houses of Westeros will call out for their true queen. But, how am I to be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms if I cannot rule one city? How am I to retake the Seven Kingdoms if I am unable to take Qarth?"

"Not a single man questions your ability, your Grace." ser Barristan added. "You took Astapor and gained eight thousand Unsullied with only your sworn protectors and the remnants of your khalasar."

And with the help of two men of unearthly power, Daenerys thought.

"Astapor was taken by surprise, from the inside out." Daenerys said. "I don't expect to have the element of surprise at all times. Enough of this, now." she paused deciding to change the topic. "It's plain to see that we are all tired from the planning and could do with some rest. We shall talk further on this topic tomorrow."

"As you say, khaleesi." ser Jorah said, as they all bowed out and made their way out of the chambers and into their sleeping quarters. Tomorrow would be a long day of strategizing, and if tempers are already being strained on the first eve of planning, it might hamper the war effort altogether.

Kinvara, Volantis

A tower, forged in black. Black as the walls in Eastern Volantis which house the remnant families of Old Valyria. A pallid tree that towers over entire mountain ranges, infested with a corruption of nature's creations, draining the world dry to bear it's glorious fruit. An ancient warrior with white hair and a black heart, protecting humanity from the terrors in the dark and sealing them in the ground below. These are but a few of the scenes that Kinvara's mind was shown before she awoke in her bed, with a trembling gasp for air.

"What… what did…" she stammered out through her shivers. "What…"

"High Priestess." a female voice said. "I trust your meeting went worse than expected."

Kinvara turned around to see Melisandre, along with two other priests and two Westerosi knights.

"Melisandre, now is not the time." a priest said. "A minute later and she would have been lost to the cold darkness."

"It isn't my intent to disparage our illustrious high priestess, Benerro." Melisandre said. "I merely wish to know where it went wrong."

"I may have misjudged the man in my visions." Kinvara explained as she checked the wounds that Vergil left with his spectral blades, only to find closed scars.

"We may have need of them still." Melisandre stated. "I have seen how your meeting was destined, along with the consequences. He was to go to Myr, Tyrosh and Lys, in search of our visions. But, with the blessing of our Lord of Light, we were able to quickly save those in the temples."

"It's true." an old priest said. "Melisandre came to me just as Vergil was finishing a task we gave him. Through her quick thinking, we managed to escape the man's wrath."

"It is not my idea in full, I must admit." Melisandre said. "King Stannis devised the masterful feint that saw two of our temples saved."

One of the knights nodded. It is only now that she sees the flaming heart on his shield, adorned with a black stag. The king of the Sunset Lands was on their side? This fact gave some relief to Kinvara, steadying her hitched breath.

"How many of the clergy still live?" Kinvara asked. "How many did the Lord save here?"

"Thirteen priests are no longer with us, along with six guards." Benerro explained. "Through his mercy, we have brought back nine priests and twelve guards."

Kinvara sighed, knowing that her temple was not completely devoid of life.

"In spite of this tragedy, we have a grand opportunity. One which needs you and your faithful by our side." Melisandre said with a wide smile. "As they say, the Lord of Light closes one path, but opens another..."