[We're back, guys! I hope you'll forgive me for the wait. I appreciate those of you who are still here reading what I have to say, and I hope you enjoy the story. 250 Power Stones will give you a bonus chapter.]
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๐ฎ๐๐๐๐๐๐ 110: ๐ฌ๐ ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฏ๐๐.ย
[Casterly Rock]
The interior of Casterly Rock had changed over the past few months. The stone remained the same, cold and solid, but many of the more ostentatious decorations had been removed. The numerous portraits of Lannister ancestors had been relocated to inner chambers, where they were preserved with respect. The furnishings were now better arranged, and there was movement through the corridors even in the early hours of the day.
A maid hurried along one of the main hallways, holding up her skirts with both hands to avoid tripping. Upon reaching the primary chambers, she slowed her pace and knocked softly on one of the doors, waiting only a few moments before opening it just enough to peek inside.
Within, Missandei was already awake.
She had requested to be awakened early, before the day truly began, though in practice it had not been necessary, because she had already been fully conscious when the maid arrived. Even so, she remained reclined for a few moments, breathing calmly and taking advantage of the quiet before rising without haste.
The maid quietly closed the door behind her and continued with her duties.
The Naathi stood and crossed the room, heading toward the bathing chamber, which had been almost completely remodeled. There, one of the new devices installed within the fortress allowed her to release water simply by turning a metal fixture.
At first, it had seemed strange to her. In Astapor, water was a resource treated with care and was not always readily available, but here its use was far freer. Vlad had insisted that she bathe as part of her daily routine, and although he had offered no explanation, she had not questioned it.
Over time, she had learned that many of the things he introduced eventually proved their usefulness. She allowed the water to run over her skin for several silent minutes, using that time to clear her mind before beginning the day.
Several maids entered shortly after she finished her bath to assist her in dressing.
She still had not entirely grown accustomed to it. The former slave did not feel fully comfortable allowing others to assist her in that way, but she had come to understand that it was customary among the nobility of Westeros. In fact, she had learned this in rather dramatic fashion.
Barely a week earlier, she had nearly stabbed one of the maids when the girl entered without warning while she was still naked. The young servant had recoiled in terror, while the Naathi had reacted on pure instinct.
After that incident, Daenerys had explained how such dynamics functioned within the fortress, and though she did not like it, she eventually accepted it. There was little sense in preventing them from doing their work, and she also understood that those maids had few responsibilities beyond helping with clothing, organizing attire, maintaining discretion, and ensuring privacy.
As they adjusted the garments, she lifted her gaze toward the full-length mirror before her.
It was another of the objects Vlad had recently introduced to the fortress. It was not a polished metal mirror like those she had seen before, where reflections appeared warped, but rather a smooth and clear surface that reflected everything before it with remarkable precision. Had no one explained its function to her, she would have considered it magic, and in part, she still did.
Vlad had spoken of treated glass and certain processes that allowed such a result, but she did not understand the details. All she truly knew was that nothing like it existed anywhere else she had known, and that it must be of immense value.
She studied herself in the mirror, still somewhat surprised by her own appearance.
Her hair was carefully arranged into the rounded silhouette she had always worn, and the clothing she wore was simple, yet filled with intricate detail. The dark fabric was embroidered with patterns reminiscent of scales, and upon her chest were two insignias: the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen and the black dragon emblem of House Drakul.
It was not an ostentatious outfit, but it made her position unmistakably clear.
For much of her life, she had considered herself little more than a tool in the service of others, someone whose role was simply to obey and nothing more. Vlad had given her freedom and purpose, and Daenerys had given her a place within her family.
She was her lady-in-waiting and also her closest friend, something of which she was deeply proud.
Her duties largely involved coordinating the staff of the fortress, but even so, her words carried weight. She was the one who conveyed most orders, served as intermediary, and on many occasions spoke in the name of Daenerys or Vlad, which caused many to treat her words as though they were theirs.
This granted her certain privileges, but she had no interest in exploiting them.
She simply fulfilled her role with the utmost seriousness, maintaining the same attitude she had always possessed, and trying to instill that same discipline in the rest of the maids, with varying degrees of success.
The young woman left her chambers shortly afterward and made her way through the main corridors until she reached the quarters reserved for the king and queen, where she knocked softly upon the door. Receiving no response, she carefully opened it.
The interior was spacious, elegant, and far more functional than it had been during the Lannisters' time. Much of the excessive decoration had vanished, though enough details remained to remind anyone that these were still the principal chambers of Casterly Rock.
A large nearby table, crowned by an enormous mirror, held numerous personal belongings of Daenerys, from jewelry and combs to small perfume bottles and various accessories accumulated more from enjoyment than necessity.
Her lady-in-waiting knew well that Daenerys required none of those things to stand out, but she also understood that she enjoyed them. After all, few women in Westeros could boast of having a husband who practically introduced new devices or high-quality perfumes every day.
The Naathi had the impression that Vlad approached magic and all its manifestations with an almost childlike enthusiasm, like a boy wielding a sword for the first time, though it was not something she would ever say aloud.
The curtains were still drawn, so she moved toward them without hurry and opened them, allowing the sunlight to flood the chamber.
Meanwhile, Daenerys remained lying face down beneath a blanket that barely covered her, her long silver hair spread across the bed and an expression of absolute satisfaction on her face.
Vlad was accustomed to rising even before sunrise and, as she knew, lately he had been absorbed in some particularly complex project involving enormous glass structures and various creatures, though she did not know the precise details.
What she did know was that Vlad made certain every night to more than compensate for his long working hours. The main structure of the bed remained intact, largely because Vlad had reinforced it long ago with Valyrian steel, but even so, every wooden section was utterly destroyed.
The truth was that such a scene had become quite common within the fortress, and the carpenters of Casterly Rock were probably growing rich solely from the absurd number of beds the king and queen destroyed each week.
By now far too accustomed to it to be truly surprised, she let out a small sigh as she also moved toward the windows to open them, allowing the fresh air to gradually disperse the heat, perfumes, and unmistakable remnants of a particularly passionate night.
Even for her, it was still difficult to remain entirely composed and avoid a certain blush rising to her face when seeing how Daenerys ended up nearly every morning.
Daenerys, still half asleep, barely turned her head toward her friend and offered her a lazy smile, clearly satisfied and entirely devoid of shame. Her companion, for her part, simply fanned her face discreetly for a few seconds while finishing airing out the chamber.
She then continued with her usual routine, accompanying Daenerys while she bathed, dressed, and shared with her conversations about any recent developments or the plans for the day before finally leaving her chambers.
The day usually began by breaking the fast alongside Myrcella, who was still adapting to her new life in Casterly Rock under the rule of the Impaler Lord.
For the young lioness, the changes remained considerable, though she had to admit that, despite how intimidating Vlad's presence could sometimes be, the reality within the fortress was quite different from the terrifying stories so many still whispered about him.
Lately, both Daenerys and her closest companion had also been particularly occupied with preparations for the queen's name day. Due to the war, Daenerys had insisted on a more intimate and discreet celebration, though that did not prevent Vlad from already organizing several gifts in secret that could hardly be described as modest.
Even while enjoying her new position, Daenerys did not neglect her own preparation as a future ruler, and so she dedicated several hours each day to receiving instruction in various disciplines taught by some of the most learned members of Clan Tremere.
Politics, administration, history, economics, strategy, and numerous fields of knowledge beyond the conventional education of the nobility had now become a regular part of her studies.
To her satisfaction, Myrcella had also been included in those lessons.
The young girl had proven herself intelligent, possessed an excellent memory, and above all, a genuine desire to learn. Far from limiting herself to the role of a noble lady, she seemed determined to absorb every bit of knowledge available to her.
While Daenerys remained immersed in her studies, the Naathi interpreter was accustomed to traveling through different sections of the fortress, supervising staff and ensuring that everything functioned according to the standards of the king and queen.
As she inspected the supplies intended for the training yards to ensure they were properly organized, she allowed herself to observe the unusual group that spent much of their days there.
Dozens of youths trained with discipline, supervised by instructors from Clan Assamite.
Unlike other similar groups, that clan was composed almost exclusively of orphans gathered from both Essos and Westeros, even including some Frey children, survivors too young from the massacre at the Twins to remember their past.
Vlad had gathered them, protected them, and shaped them from an early age.
And though many might have expected brutal methods or merciless punishments from the vampire king, the reality was quite different.
Cruelty was rarely a tool in their upbringing.
Vlad understood perfectly well that physical strength, speed, or even superhuman abilities could eventually be granted through the Embrace, so his true priorities were loyalty, devotion, and obedience.
For that reason, he had developed a deeply sectarian system of training, based not only on physical conditioning, but also on discipline, education, ideological dependence, and indoctrination.
From childhood, those boys were molded to exist for the sole purpose of serving House Drakul. Their food, education, way of life, and worldview were carefully designed to make Vlad the axis of their existence.
To them, Vlad was not simply a king, but a savior, a protector, and the figure who had brought order to a chaotic world. Their devotion to him and his bloodline was almost disturbing, and their obedience practically blind, but it was exactly what Vlad had been seeking.
For now, as the clan continued to grow, their days were devoted to perfecting every skill that might prove useful: combat, infiltration, assassination, espionage, evasion, sabotage, and even theft.
They were not simple soldiers, but a force designed to operate within the clans themselves, monitoring, controlling, and, if necessary, eliminating those assets whose usefulness to the crown had come to an end.
They were the Inquisition, his Inquisition. And honestly, Vlad seemed quite proud of the result.
The interpreter from Naath had no doubt about it. One only had to see the way those boys looked at her, solely because of her closeness to Vlad, to understand the extent of their devotion, something that also disturbed her more than she liked to admit.
It brought back uncomfortable memories of the Unsullied's upbringing during her years in Astapor, though at least Vlad was infinitely more humane in his treatment of those children, and so she did not fear that he would send them to some absurd death merely to satisfy a cruel buyer.
The Inquisition was far too important, and those children would become important as well in time.