Chains of Flesh
Twenty-Eight Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
"I'm not cutting some poor bastard's gibbets out looking for Deep One curses with just the knife I have on me," Vee sounds as determined as you have ever heard her. "Get 'im into the Forge, get 'im under wards at least. I can deal with the map table in the Deep but not some lord's keep a thousand miles away with spies lurking in every shadow."
"We don't know if there's anything in his giblets to be found," you point out, considering the political implications of kidnapping Lord Chester's son to not only dispel the curse but perform surgery. Cutting into living flesh has a poor reputation in the Reach due to the influence of Oldtown.
"Better to beg for forgiveness than ask permission," Vee says carefully, obviously quoting someone. Either Dany or Glyra, either way she is not wrong.
Better an unplanned journey than an unplanned death.
***
Blood splatters upwards in a wide crimson arc, ribs snap like twigs...
Are those tentacles lashing in his chest? Magical healing had not gone well, thankfully having listened to Vee's instincts you find yourself deep within the Flesh-Forge of Gogossos and the arts of Old Valyria prove equal to the task. A translucent membrane closes like an eyelid over the unconscious figure of Lyan Chester as familiar cerulean light flashes behind it so bright it is almost painful to behold. The thrashing slows before finally stopping as the foreign flesh begins to wither.
Seeing this Vee touches the membrane channeling healing light through it. "It only lets certain kinds of magic in," she explains, reading your surprised look. "Useful for when you want to grow grafts and let other parts of the growing creature wither away, being useless to the final form."
"We do not know for certain that the growths were not being of use to the young knight," Qyburn points out. You can't tell if he is indulging in extremely dry humor or being sincere, and truth be told you are not sure you want to find out.
"I assume he is safe now," you half-ask Vee as the Forge mechanisms give a series of complex multi-tonal chimes, some of which would have been imperceptible to ordinary human hearing, likely because all flesh-smiths would have been assumed to have grown beyond such limited senses.
"Yeah, he's fine now," Vee pauses. "You probably want to fix his clothes first though."
Given that said clothes are practically unrecognizable and soaked through with blood and ichor he would hardly have missed them. You briefly consider waking the knight here to impress upon him the gravity of his circumstances, but that might be a step too far, especially if he recalls any of the Deep Ones' own flesh-smithing.
Thus you take the still unconscious lordling back with you to the warded tavern room you had taken for your temporary base in Greenshield, clean and mend his clothes by magic before setting him in a chair facing not just you, Dany, Lya and Ser Richard, but Brandon and Danelle too. The two of them had not raised any objection to being publicly associated with your investigation in the Shield Islands.
"Greetings Ser, apologies for the abrupt and uncommon greeting, but it was for your own safety. We had to undo not one but two death curses upon you, one of mind and one of flesh. Anything you can tell us about how you came to be so afflicted by the Deep Ones..."
The young knight's eyes only grow wider from the moment he wakes, his cheeks paler. "They'll kill me,
worse then kill me," he blurts out.
"That is generally the fate they have in store for all mortals," you point out dryly. "
You, however, are safe from their afflictions." Though you are careful not to give the words the air of a threat Brandon's icy stare is matched by an only slightly less grim expression from Ser Richard.
"Deep Ones... I..." The knight rises to his feet abruptly. "I have no idea what nonsense you are talking about. I suggest you leave Greenshield before my lord father hears about this."
"Indeed, I am certain your lord father would be
fascinated to hear about how you were almost torn apart by a dormant lethal flesh graft," you cut him off.
Dead silence falls for a brief moment before Ser Chester finally asks: "Who are you all?"
Given that you are currently doing nothing to hide your identity, including allowing your crown to be visible and the looks of recognition afforded to Brandon and Danelle you can only conclude he means the others, still you humor him with an answer. You can still wipe the entire episode from his memory if it becomes necessary.
"I have to speak to my lord father. I will invite you to the keep later..."
A lie on both counts, you know at once, as does everyone else in the room.
"Ser, please, you are putting yourself and your family in greater danger by keeping these secrets," Danelle speaks up softly, but with no trace of wavering in her voice or gaze.
"I have no reason to trust any of you besides your given word that you spared me from some dark fate..."
"One you knew was possible, or was that fear a moment ago mummery?" Dany asks sharply. "If so you have a grand career ahead of you on the Braavosi stage."
Something about these words, perhaps the sheer strangeness of hearing them in such a mocking tone upon a child's lips, finally gets through. The knight sinks into the chair as though all the strength had gone out of him.
"The folk behind Sunset Shores, they aren't...
human, but they don't want to eat us or enslave us, just work for mutual benefit." From his expression he must have realized how weak an excuse it sounded like, but no one interrupts now that he is talking.
Lyan Chester explains that he had been approached by a merchant connected with
Sunset Shores more than half a year ago as Greenshield's prosperity was sore wounded in the wake of his father's conflicts with Greyshield and Oakenshield. He had not discovered their likely connection with the Deep Ones until two months ago when a shark-men attack on the
Mander's Gift had been repelled by the timely interjection of some sort of crystalline giant and what you instantly recognize as a ulitharid. The being had called him 'too valuable to waste in a blood raid' before supposedly apologizing for not keeping a closer eye on his fate, assuring him that it meant no harm to House Chester... and cursing him with death should he speak of the encounter. "It also said we should be ever vigilant of fey machinations for they seek to twist us in their image more surely than the fish-men ever were."
Silence falls once more, leaving you to decide how to react to this revelation. It is looking more and more like rebellion, though you doubt an ulitharid could ever value mortals for more than their immediate utility. Still, understandings have been reached on shaker grounds. You even have a pact with the Deep Ones for the moment, tattered and frayed as it may be.
What do you do?
[] Try to discover how to get into contact with the entities behind Sunset Shores
[] Use the discovery and his son's testimony to attempt to secure Lord Chester's fealty
[] Write in
OOC: If you guys choose to break the plot wide open here at Greenshield any subsequent negotiations with ulitharid and any of its fellows are likely to be much more difficult if not impossible.