A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

Nineteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Afternoon audiences were as much of a headache as usual, you bite back the sigh of relief that was almost upon your lips as the last petitioner, a Braavosi merchant with an interest in the eastern trade and and abrasive personality that had earned him one too many enemies, withdrew from the hall.

The advantage of morning audiences was that those frivolous enough to make truly pointless petitions were usually inclined to sleep in rather than bothering you. Then again, you have been getting progressively less of those. The mechanisms of court and bureaucracy seem to be working more smoothly over the last few months, though you have no doubt the integration of Lorath will add yet another cohort of local aristocrats attempting to curry favor in the court. Just thinking about complaints in the tone of faux-humility that is common formality there is enough to sour your mood.

Thankfully, the evening takes you far indeed from the court, to the southernmost city of your realm, or perhaps better to say outpost. There was trade in Gogossos now, and ships plying these once pirate haunted waters, to cater to the garrison and with that trade had come cobblers and carpenters, smiths and weavers, and taverns, of course. The taverns had been first. Though as Ser Richard notes with his usual dry humor, they are by far the quietest taverns one is likely to find, even at such a late hour. Gogossos has by far the most Erinyes on active duty of any place outside Sorcerer's Deep, and they do not approve of rowdiness specifically interrupting their own hard-earned off duty entertainments.

"So do you think they managed it?" Lya asks from your other side. She had looked over the notes, of course, and the project had been less complex than many of the flesh-forge creations, but you could understand the slight note of uncertainty mixed in with the excitement.

"Yes, I trust that they did. The forge has managed far more complex feats in terms of arcane and biological complexity," you reply at once.

This was a milestone, though. Not the first thinking creature, nor the first dragon either, but the first time you had attempted to craft an entire species that would live and work among the citizens of the empire. You had gotten the idea months ago when you had first seen the great azer-forges of the Opaline Vault, in principle at least. There were too many places in your world humans were simply ill-suited to live, many of them rich in resources or defensive potential, such as mountains heavy with precious ores or the hidden undersides of cities all but unguarded from outside attack.

And so when you had looked though Lady Caleris's notes on ancient draconic forms, it was not the the great wyrms that your eyes were most drawn to, though you will of course accept them, but to other nimbler forms. Kobolds they had been called once, and you see no reason why they should not be called that again, the name means something like 'sharp and quick'. Quick and clever with a love of hidden places, a talent for artifice, and a great reverence for elder wyrms, so you remember them from dreams not your own.

There was surprisingly little information beyond the physical to be found. Personally, you suspect 'reverence ' has more to do with the practical imperatives of living anywhere near your crimson-scaled kin. The implication that one of them, or a being taking that guise, had taught you one of the spells that has saved your life time and again over the gulf of years is an... interesting one to be sure. You smile at Lya's obvious impatience to see the results of that work as the three of you descend into the forge.


The usually cool air of the forge is heavy with the dry heat of arcane flames burning with smokeless intensity upon braziers of living bone. Most of the incubation chamber is taken up by a carpet of white moss threaded through with thin crimson lines pulsing softly like veins. Feathery leaves, or possibly leafy feathers of the same substance, grow around the eggs being grown here. A thousand in all they are to be the first generation, to be cared for by specially tasked leshy, then educated in various corners of the Empire the better to find their place.

'Maester' Qyburn, it's hard not to think of the flesh-smith by that honorific when he insists in dressing in robes so like his old order in all but color, looks about as proud as you have ever seen him as he glances down at the eggs. "Excellent, you arrived just in time Your Grace. It would be interesting to see if they show any recognition of your nature upon hatching."

"Maybe they'll imprint like baby ducklings you mean?" Lya snickers, drawing a reluctant smile from Ser Richard.

"That would be rather poor planning on the part of whoever shaped them," a soft but very assured voice calls out from behind the elder flesh-smith. You had seen the young man, he could not be much older than ten, an assistant you assumed, when you entered but your gaze had been fixed on the eggs, but it takes only one look at his face to realize he is not just that.

His complexion is blotchy with that unfortunate bane of everyone entering their second decade of life, his features a bit too heavy to call handsome though certainly striking, particularly when eyes of Bolton grey meet yours without flinching. You had not heard of Domeric having a brother, though if the boy was born out of wedlock that is hardly surprising.

"Ah yes, my assistant Ransay Snow, lord Bolton's natural son, sent here to help me with my work," Qybirn introduces him. "He has not had time to learn much yet, but he is very promising. He does the work without any of the hesitation most show on their first days."

You do not miss the way the boy's eyes narrow dangerously at 'natural son', but you can certainly appreciate ambition and Qyburn is more than a match for anything his temper might conjure.

"I think we all count as natural from a certain point of view, having been born and begotten in the same way." you jest, motioning to the forge for a counter-example.

The boy laughs, almost seeming to surprise himself. "That we are, Your Grace. At your service, both by my father's will and my own choice." He looks a touch uncertain how to act towards Lya, either having never encountered a mage of her power or simply a woman wielding power in her own right. Given that you knew nothing of him until this meeting, you would judge Roose Bolton did not keep him close. More careless than you would have assumed of the Lord of the Dreadfort given that he only has one other heir. Perhaps he did not know about until recently.

You are distracted from your thoughts by the sound of shifting leaves. One of the eggs begins to rock back and forth, then cracks open to reveal a small reptilian head and two rather blunt claws reaching out blindly. The infant makes an odd yipping sound. Sharp enough to carry echoes for a long way underground, some analytical part of you notes, though mostly you cannot help but smile at the akwward motions and bright curiosity in his...no, her eyes. Apparently the knowledge of the dragon dreams go as far as being able to distinguish kobolds by gender.


"No one's going to fucking forget about you, even if you are a servant, are they?" the words are barely even a whisper for all the weight of bitterness in them. You doubt young Ramsay even realized he had said them aloud, much less than that you could hear them.

"They will be citizens just the same as any other, more suited to some tasks than others but just as free to carve out their path as any other in the realm," you reply. "It is our life, not our birth that most defines us."

Lya had not heard the child, of course, but she can certainly guess the intent behind your words. "I was a foundling, you know, no idea who my parents even were. Don't much care honestly."

Ramsay Snow looks between you, Lya, and the infant kobold with such intensity that he might be trying to read inside your heads, but he does not say anything aloud, merely nodding jerkily.

What do you do next?

[] Receive a report (Interlude series)
-[] Plane of Fire Raiding
-[] City of Brass Intelligence
-[] Plane of Earth Investigation
-[] Yi Ti Expedition
-[] Write in

[] Head out to deal with the Houses of the Reach

[] Perform a minor action
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: I thought about including a picture of Ramsay but I have the same issue as with Jon, he is very much younger than in canon and for kids the difference is significant. Not yet edited.