Wiseman's Folly
Nineteenth Day of the Fourth Month 294 AC
"Either a thinly veiled metaphor for Aegon's work or House Targaryen in general, the Conspiracy of the Citadel, a reflection of the same in recent times with my own rise, or..." you trail off, seeing the uselessness of the question. Yes, there's more to what the Citadel had planned than all of that. It couldn't have all been madness and ruin, just as Aegon's ambition wasn't likely all self-aggrandizing ego. Your ambition certainly isn't purely fueled by your own ego, either. Yes, you use the raven's likeness as well in your Inquisition, which could lead to a tangled conspiracy that might some day poison your own work, but only if you are ever truly blind and degenerate enough to let it. They did get one thing wrong about all of this, however. "What an unflattering image, in either case. I take it this is a lesson that the Golden Court wanted to impart before revealing itself?"
The diminutive fey looks you up and down, a slow appreciative smile growing on her lips. It seems genuine, for whatever that is worth. "Close enough, Dragon King. I never promised Archmaester Perestan that I would hide my own nature, only the secret that you have now unraveled." The blue of her eyes grows deeper, to a familiar azure radiance, and the silk of her garb flickers to a like color. "There was a mortal saying once that I was most fond of; clothes do not make the man. Well, know they do not make the fey either, unless we so choose."
"Indeed, the tales to come may be just as surprising," you incline your head, slightly less suspicious now that you know her true allegiance. "Perhaps you should keep watching? You might be surprised what the future holds. It never seems to go the way you expect it to, now does it?
"No... that would make for a wearying passage down the long ages," the fey lady replies. "This was a mirror of what you called the Conspiracy of the Citadel, the death of dragons, the death of
magic, though the wise men behind their masks of metal thought my Lady could not see the whole of it. What other tale could resound through this realm in an age of waning magic, but that great and terrible ambition."
"They tried to use it, didn't they?" Vee asks from behind you. "Reach in and make a pact with the monster they made?"
The azure fey nods gravely, though her eyes still spark with mirth as well as power you would judge. "I tried to warn him. Reach into a mirror for aid and all you shall grasp is a fistful of glass. Alas, poor Perestan, he was cut to the quick."
"You don't sound that cut up 'bout it yourself," Maelor notes with just a touch of disapproval. It's not that he cares about the archmaester, but he has no love of those who break trust with allies for their own gain.
"We kept faith with the Citadel as they did with us," comes the reply as the fey lands on the shoulder of one of the raven-men and caresses its stony cheek. "One should not expect to get more than one offers..."
"What did they offer you and you, my lady?" you press, intrigued almost in spite of yourself.
"Why the only thing of value they still possess, answers, knowledge. I cannot reveal the full scope of it without my lady's will, you understand."
Of course it would not be that easy, you sigh inwardly. All the more reason for you to make a deal with the Azure Court, you suppose, but then that is a pendulum that swings both ways. They will have all the more reason to deal with you once you hold the full collection of the Citadel to bargain with. "But can you tell me this in so many words, Archmaester Perestan met his end in this chamber, yes or no?"
"Such suspicion," she tsks and gives a tinkling laugh "Yes, he was slain and devoured by the jabberwock after it broke his mind. Were it some other beast I would counsel you to look through its stomach for his mask and rod and other precious things, but given its nature I do not imagine you shall extract anything useful from that yawning pit. Fare thee well, Dragon King."
This time when she reaches for the threads of time you are ready, but you do not stop her, distracted by another feeling, familiar yet strange. Song at the edge of hearing, a tale in the realm of tales grown. The irony of the Citadel's conspiracy offering you the gift of the mad dragon's defeat does not escape you.
Mythic Rank Gained
What next?
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OOC: You guys did beat a CR 23 dragon and four CR 16 fey with one spell, that in addition to your part of the Fall of the Court of Stars pushed you over the edge. Not yet edited.
