The Threefold Key
Twentieth Day of the Fourth Month 294 AC
The air comes alive with the magic of
insight and foresight, with the giddy
joy of discovery conjured forth by arcane arts. In cups of stone was shared the
wine of prophecy, drunk with a toast to hopeful days. Strange to be drinking at a time like this, and stranger still for any revelry to touch a place accursed as this under the sight of hateful eyes.
"Alright, so could you explain this to me?" The words were both familiar and strange in Lya's thoughts. Her interests were eclectic enough that she had questioned jewelers and painters, architects and sculptors, but she was unaccustomed to asking such a thing about the principles of magic. When she had some gap in her understanding, Lya would usually reach for a book or twelve. There were no books here, only the flesh smith, the once maester. "
I mean I know the theory of getting things unstuck in time, but only for a short span." With a glance at Viserys, she added to all present,
"I think you can manage thirty seconds when you push yourself, right?"
A thoughtful nod and a looks of frustration to match her own met her, but Wisdom Qyburn did not looks disheartened.
"It must seem to a frog that the bird flying overhead can jump very far indeed, for it knows not what wings are nor can it feel the wind against its moist skin. The paradigm is different. The aboleth do not accept the notion of linear time."
"So we're dealing with the place we can't really see and forces and we can only guess at that are folding moments together, so that the magic we seek to undo can exist 'then' and 'now' but not at all the times between..." Lya was aware she sounded a touch petulant as she threw herself on one of the shaped stone benches Viserys had thoughtfully crafted. "
No offense, but it's like you're adding two plus two and getting 'salmon'."
"Well then, it is best to learn how to cut the salmon open?" It was hard to tell on the betentacled face, but she thought there was something like a grandfatherly smile there.
"I am no expert on runes, but it is my understanding that one of the fundamental qualities of that magic is that it is longer lasting then other forms of arcane script... Might not the mechanism be similar?"
"Fuck..." The word slipped out aloud, though she doubted any hidden listeners would gain much from that most ubiquitous of profanities. It all fit together like clockwork now, albeit a very daunting clock. Making one great rune working that would bind the Ironborn to their dread god in such a way as would break them if they surrendered that faith made all her attempts at runecraft look akin to simple sentences besides a masterful essay. Of course, you didn't have to be a poet with a quill to blot out a few lines.
It took them what felt like hours in that timeless place to come up with even the measuring instruments that would give them a clue as to the task ahead. And hours more were spent arguing about the specific form and function, of what was a ward against the Deep Ones and what was their meddling taking root.
The battle above was well and truly done by the time the four of them had formulated anything like a plan, or more accurately three plans.
Firstly, they could simply find and kill the chronomancer responsible in the depths of the Sunset Sea, blot out the runes in its own blood and let his body be lost to wind and tide. That would require them to hunt down a dangerous foe in silence and in secret, but as Ser Richard reminded them, killing was relatively straightforward. Secondly, if they could persuade at least one of the ancient Ironborn who had made the contract that the 'true' Drowned God was Aife's patron and the day of his reckoning would come at some far distant time, then perhaps the power could be made to serve the Ferryman. Of course, the trouble would be that they would need to find a way to hide the traitor's mind from the searching thoughts of his new masters, a false front that could stand up to at least passing scrutiny of skilled mind-twisters.
Most difficult of all would be to tap the power for the use of empire's stillborn god. Such an empty vessel could not grasp the stolen power over the gulf of ages, but if they could perhaps kill and replace some of the Rock Kings and work their own ritual under the enemy's nose it might be possible for the destructive power of the curse to be 'inherited' by the Empire rather than discharged. After all, the Last Kingsmoot would arguably transfer the loyalty of the Iron Islands from the Drowned God to the Imperium.
Three paths stand before you, which do you choose?
[] The Path of Blood: Find the one of the architects of the Oathtaking after the deed has been done, kill it and in its blood unbalance his work such as the power is lost along the threads of time
[] The Path of Apostasy: Persuade one the the Rock Kings to keep the Merling King in his heart and keep that knowledge safe from any mind reading of the enemy's
[] The Path of Inheritance: Try to partake in the Oathtaking and alter it under the eyes of its makers
OOC: There is a lot of arcane technicality around here, hope it does not drag, especially with the update peace slowing down. Not yet edited.