I wasnt present in the quest when the domains for the imperial god was decided
But why doesnt the IG has magic domain?

Our empire is responsible for much innovation and is largely known by our populace for being a magic empire
It would make sense for the Imperial god to have the magic domain.

and i was also wondering
would it be possible to add other domains to the IG later on?
All of the Domains deal with magic in one way or another, but they are also intrinsically connected to Viserys. The Magic Domain just wasn't as thematically relevant as the others.

Domains might be added later, but it's not likely. Deities generally don't have more than a few Domains in their portfolios. To get more, they have to move up the deific power scale.and that isn't quick or easy.
 
It would temporarily break that connection. Keep in mind there are a lot of roads so it would take a great deal of sabotage to make a dent in the network.
It'd be convenient if we could figure out how to make this stuff self-repairing. Along with making it so that Imperial Outsiders are alerted when this happens, so they investigate promptly. Like White Blood Cells swarming bacteria while the blood clots in the wound.
 
It'd be convenient if we could figure out how to make this stuff self-repairing. Along with making it so that Imperial Outsiders are alerted when this happens, so they investigate promptly. Like White Blood Cells swarming bacteria while the blood clots in the wound.

That could be done yeah, although the latter would be easier than the former.

Anyway good night guys, see you tomorrow with the interlude as we see how people have grown and changed this quarter.
 
Imperial road dragons...

So, since we're married and can't cheat on Lya, who's the lucky guy asking Amrelath or Relath to fuck the imperial road?
I don't know, but years back I had the idea for a short story where the "real" reason the U.S. Highway system became a thing was Eisenhower and Truman consulting with a nightmarish concrete and macadam dragon calling itself the "Dragon of the Road". Something like that feels similar.
 
Hey, I tired looking, but I couldn't find an answer: are we still using the Mammon Machine to produce the pure Essence of Law? Bc if we are, someone should probably check up on that to make sure he hasn't managed to corrupt it.
 
Hey, I tired looking, but I couldn't find an answer: are we still using the Mammon Machine to produce the pure Essence of Law? Bc if we are, someone should probably check up on that to make sure he hasn't managed to corrupt it.
Valyrian Steel still has a great deal of value and utility, so I don't see why we would stop producing it, since the stuff is cheaper than Imperial Steel. Even without using it to create Valyrian Steel, the stuff would still make a powerful reagent for any number of magical processes.

And it's not like the Mammon Machine would be left unattended or without being monitored.
 
Hey, I tired looking, but I couldn't find an answer: are we still using the Mammon Machine to produce the pure Essence of Law? Bc if we are, someone should probably check up on that to make sure he hasn't managed to corrupt it.
He agreed to forever surrender any connection to the corpse, which was why we were able to safely craft the Serpent's Sin artifact cloak. If he wanted to corrupt the Mammon Machine he'd need to physically get to it since he no longer has any connection to the corpse used to make it.

But yes, as Goldfish said, we're still using it for Valyrian Steel and Imperial Steel.
 
Interlude MCCXV: In Cold Contemplation
In Cold Contemplation

Twenty-Seventh Day of the Ninth Month 294 AC

The trouble with the Wall was that it was just too big, Lya thought not for the first time as she looked over the vast expanse of ice below her feet, runes floating serenely in it like fish in the sea, seen only to her eyes. It sounded trite, but that did not make it any less true. Brandon's masterpiece was a single working, a single outpouring of sorcery between Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower, such that you could not keep it all in your mind at once with any ease of reckoning, but if that had been all then Lya could have done what she always did when faced with too great a task, break it up into several smaller tasks again and again until the bites were small enough to swallow as it were. The second issue was that the Wall was not just vaster than sight could hold, it was alive.

At first she had thought that it was invested with some land spirit, kin to the ice, some Winter Fey that had escaped the malignancy that consumed their kin perhaps, but working with Rina to come up with a means to communicate with such a being had yielded not but ringing silence from the great bulwark of ice on the longest night of the year. She almost thought there was a resentment to it, although admittedly that may have just been projecting. Lya was not used to being stumped so utterly by the object of her study and she found it more frustrating that exhilarating, as compared to other sorts of dead ends.

Next she had attempted to open communications with those aspects of the Old Gods which had some affinity to the Wall, like the strange arcane door they had found at the Nightfort all those months back, but for all its good will the spirit bound in the door was of no real help, for it was younger by millennia than the Wall, grown in replacement for older locks now fallen to dust. Its memories were filled with the comings and goings of the Black Brothers far back in time before the first ships had come to the western shores from Andalos, but of the deeper mysteries of the Wall it understood little. The inquiry managed to add a few more basic functions to the Wall's rune-commands, a windbreak for the men atop the wall, a means of producing safe drinking water that would not chill the watchers over-much, but these were mere fragments of fragments of the lore she sought, scraps meant for common usage and then forgotten.

What Lya needed was to understand the making of the Wall, its foundations and how they might be undermined by an enemy which had been plotting that for an age of the world. At the very least she needed to converse with the guiding intelligence that guarded the border of 'the realms of men', but it was all locked away beyond bindings of magic she did not dare disturb lest she do more harm than good. Taking apart the mechanism to see how it all ran was very much not an option.

Bulwark of the North: 51 (Failure)

The worst part was that she could tell some of them at least were simply keyed to the vows of the Watch. If only I were not a woman. Oh, and married, that kind of gets in the way as well... The Imperatrix chuckled lightly, the sound snatched away by the cold wind before it could reach any other ear.

It might be possible to make use of the mages already sworn to the Black to access the Wall's secrets, but that would require teaching them much of what was not openly shared even to the Scholarum, secrets of soul shaping and the world's dark history. There was really only one man sworn to the black she could trust that much and he was not here at the Wall but in the south.

***​

"Maester Aemon I need your aid..."

The old scholar nodded slowly, but only from ingrained thoughtfulness and not from any hesitation for never had Aemon Targaryen shrunk at doing his duty.

OOC: I thought about putting a vote in here, but really I do not think it would make sense to deny him the chance to help so I just went for what would be the most narratively impactful ending to the interlude.
 
Last edited:
In Cold Contemplation

Twenty-Seventh Day of the Ninth Month 294 AC

The trouble with the Wall was that it was just too big, Lya thought, not for the first time, as she looked over the vast expanse of ice below her feet, runes floating serenely in it like fish in the sea, seen only to her eyes. It sounded trite, but that did not make it any less true, Brandon's masterpiece was a single working, a single outpouring of sorcery between Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower, such that you could not keep it all in your mind at once with any ease of reckoning. If that had been all then Lya could have done what she always did when faced with too great a task, break it up into several smaller tasks again and again, until the bites were small enough to swallow as it were. The second issue was that the Wall was not just vaster than sight could hold, it was alive.

At first she had thought that it was invested with some land spirit, kin to the ice, perhaps some Winter Fey that had escaped the malignancy that consumed their kin, but working with Rina to come up with a means to communicate with such a being had yielded naught but ringing silence from the great bulwark of ice on the longest night of the year. She almost thought there was a resentment to it, although admittedly that may have just been projecting. Lya was not used to being stumped so utterly by the object of her study, and she found it more frustrating that exhilarating, as compared to other sorts of dead ends.

Next she had attempted to open communications withe those aspects of the Old Gods which had some affinity to the Wall, like the strange arcane door they had found at the Nightfort all those months back. For all its good will, the spirit bound in the door was of no real help, for it was younger by millennia than the Wall, grown in replacement for older locks now fallen to dust. Its memories were filled with the comings and goings of the Black Brothers far back in time before the first ships had come to the western shores from Andalos, but of the deeper mysteries of the Wall it understood little. The inquiry managed to add a few more basic functions to the Wall's rune-commands, a windbreak for the men atop the wall, a means of producing safe drinking water that would not chill the watchers over-much, but these were mere fragments of fragments of the lore she sought, scraps meant for common usage and then forgotten.

What Lya needed was to understand the making of the Wall, its foundations and how they might be undermined by an enemy which had been plotting that for an age of the world. At the very least she needed to converse with the guiding intelligence that guarded the border of 'the realms of men', but it was all locked away beyond bindings of magic she did not dare disturb lest she do more harm than good. Taking apart the machanism to see how it all ran was very much not an option.

Bulwark of the North: 51 (Failure)

The worst part was that she could tell some of them at least were simply keyed to the vows of the Watch. If only I were not a woman, oh and married, that kind of gets in the way as well... The Imperatrix chuckled lightly, the sound snatched away by the cold wind before it could reach any other ear.

It might be possible to make use of the mages already sworn to the Black to access the Wall's secrets, but that would require teaching them much of what was not openly shared even to the Scholarum, secrets of soul shaping and the world's dark history. There was really only one man sworn to the black she could trust that much and he was not here at the Wall but in the south.

***​

"Maester Aemon, I need your aid..."

The old scholar nodded slowly, but only from ingrained thoughtfulness not from any hesitation, for never had Aemon Targaryen shrunk at doing his duty .

OOC: I thought about putting a vote in here, but really I do not think it would make sense to deny him the chance to help so I just went for what would be the most narratively impactful ending to the interlude. Not yet edited.
Here's an edited version of the chapter, DP.

Not a surprise that Lya couldn't figure this one out very quickly. It's a major undertaking, after all. Also gives us a good excuse to interact with Aemon more often.
 
Interlude MCCXVI: Practical Matters
Practical Matters

Twenty-Seventh Day of the Ninth Month 294 AC

Alinor Torchwood was, for all the power that resided in her quill and word, a woman who made a clear delineation between her public and private life. She always left her seal in her office, behind warded glass, and she rarely talked about work outside its due hours. It was partly to keep herself sane, to keep the avalanche of paper and the river of ink from drowning her, but mostly it was a sort of bureaucratic hygiene.

Of course, there weren't any laws that said you could not talk about work with people in a social setting, there weren't even any customs to the effect. Even the most zealous lawman would agree that it was a long way from talking about the new bridge contract or the new possibilities of steam-trains and... trouble, but Alinor was the Censor in a very real sense, the most powerful person in the entirely of the state apparatus. The only person she answered to directly wore a crown of steel, so even a carelessly spoken word from her could set ventures in motion that could shake the markets to their foundations.

So she simply did not talk about it.

If someone wanted her opinion on a tax exemption or if they really needed to know who to talk to in order to get a new Hall of Healing funded, she would tell them her office hours and how to get an appointment. She would not talk shop in the middle of a garden party no matter how insistent the person in question was, and in her line of work she dealt with a lot of insistent people.

But to every rule there was some exception, and that night under the bright stars of the capital the exception came in the form of a grim faced Duke of Storm's End sitting ramrod straight in his seat looking through the action on the small stage more than at it, and giving the poor girl who was showing off her skills with the lyre the mother of all stage fright.

"Not a lover of the lyre?" she asked, walking up to the man. He was no more than a few years older than hers, though a hard life had carved far more lines upon his brow.

"I don't see the point," he replied with curtness that another might have mistaken for being rude, though Alinor could tell there was no malice there, only the absence of the usual social space filler.

"Well, who knows. Maybe she will help lay a road in a few years, or expand a city," the Censor replied with a smile.

"You jest," the words were almost an accusation.

"Only in part," she shrugged. "There is a reason why we have these gatherings, and it is not just to give the idle highborn a chance to be idle where the Imperator can see them rather that get into mischief. It is to give a chance for the young to get acclimated to the capital and take back with them a sense of what we have built here, or better yet, ask to stay and be educated in the ways of the city..."

"The city?" now he sounded annoyed by her lack of specificity.

"Oh, sorry. I mean this city, the capital. I call it that because that is what the worst of the Volantene Old Blood call Volantis, yet they do not dare correct me when I give that title to the Deep. Petty, of course, but then so are they."

"Are there many Volantene magisters about?" the duke prompted, merely curious this time.

"I think there is one on the other side of the fountain there, Lord Yargos. Mostly it is just a verbal tic that slipped into my vocabulary. My apologies for inflicting it on you, Your Grace."

After giving her a long look she could not quite read, he tilted his head slightly. "No apologies are necessary, my lady, though if I may ask for a few moments of your time, I wish to know if there are any plans to set grain prices to prevent speculation with basic goods in light of the market disturbances last month."

"Not at this time. The matter was handled without the proverbial sledgehammer of economic policy. Rest assured, however, we are keeping it in reserve should things get out of hand again before trade normalizes..."

They were still talking an hour and a half later when the other guests were starting to move inside.

What next?

[] Write in

OOC: I rolled who Alinor would meet out of a list and it came up Stannis. They get along surprisingly well given their very different outlooks on life as it turns out.
 
Last edited:
Practical Matters

Twenty-Seventh Day of the Ninth Month 294 AC

Alinor Torchwood was, for all the power that resided in her quill and word, a woman who made a clear delineation between her public and private life. She always left her seal in her office, behind warded glass, and she rarely talked about work outside its due hours. It was partly to keep herself sane, to keep the avalanche of paper and the river of ink from drowning her, but mostly it was a sort of bureaucratic hygiene.

Of course, there weren't any laws that said you could not talk about work with people in a social setting, there weren't even any customs to the effect. Even the most zealous lawman would agree that it was a long way from talking about the new bridge contract or the new possibilities of steam-trains and... trouble, but Alinor was the Censor in a very real sense, the most powerful person in the entirely of the state apparatus. The only person she answered to directly wore a crown of steel, so even a carelessly spoken word from her could set ventures in motion that could shake the markets to their foundations.

So she simply did not talk about it.

If someone wanted her opinion on a tax exemption or if they really needed to know who to talk to in order to get a new Hall of Healing funded, she would tell them her office hours and how to get an appointment. She would not talk shop in the middle of a garden party no matter how insistent the person in question was, and in her line of work she dealt with a lot of insistent people.

But to every rule there was some exception, and that night under the bright stars of the capital the exception came in the form of a grim faced Duke of Storm's End sitting ramrod straight in his seat looking through the action on the small stage more than at it, and giving the poor girl who was showing off her skills with the lyre the mother of all stage fright.

"Not a lover of the lyre?" she asked, walking up to the man. He was no more than a few years older than hers, though a hard life had carved far more lines upon his brow.

"I don't see the point," he replied with curtness that another might have mistaken for being rude, though Alinor could tell there was no malice there, only the absence of the usual social space filler.

"Well, who knows. Maybe she will help lay a road in a few years, or expand a city," the Censor replied with a smile.

"You jest," the words were almost an accusation.

"Only in part," she shrugged. "There is a reason why we have these gatherings, and it is not just to give the idle highborn a chance to be idle where the Imperator can see them rather that get into mischief. It is to give a chance for the young to get acclimated to the capital and take back with them a sense of what we have built here, or better yet, ask to stay and be educated in the ways of the city..."

"The city?" now he sounded annoyed by her lack of specificity.

"Oh, sorry. I mean this city, the capital. I call it that because that is what the worst of the Volantene Old Blood call Volantis, yet they do not dare correct me when I give that title to the Deep. Petty, of course, but then so are they."

"Are there many Volantene magisters about?" the duke prompted, merely curious this time.

"I think there is one on the other side of the fountain there, Lord Yargos. Mostly it is just a verbal tic that slipped into my vocabulary. My apologies for inflicting it on you, Your Grace."

After giving her a long look she could not quite read, he tilted his head slightly. "No apologies are necessary, my lady, though if I may ask for a few moments of your time, I wish to know if there are any plans to set grain prices to prevent speculation with basic goods in light of the market disturbances last month."

"Not at this time. The matter was handled without the proverbial sledgehammer of economic policy. Rest assured, however, we are keeping it in reserve should things get out of hand again before trade normalizes..."

They were still talking an hour and a half later when the other guests were starting to move inside.

What next?

[] Write in

OOC: I rolled who Alinor would meet out of a list and it came up Stannis. They get along surprisingly well given their very different outlooks on life as it turns out.
Made some additional edits to the chapter, DP.
 
It's been almost five months IC since Marco became an Oracle of Viserys. I would love to see how his life has changed since then.

[X] Interlude: Marco Three Knots, First Oracle of Viserys
 
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