Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 348: New Magic System

Phornas still wanted to resist. He considered sending someone to retrieve the charred statue for repairs, but Viserys had other plans. The seven statues were tied around the neck of a giant dragon, and he and Dany rode it to the Starry Sept for their restoration.

In the end, the quality of the repairs didn't matter. Even if the original statues were reduced to dust, the new ones would take their place.

With the matter of the church settled, Viserys turned his attention to the House Hightower fortress—the High Tower.

It was more than just a family stronghold; it also served as a lighthouse. The 240-foot Topless Tower supported the red glow of the Sunset Sea. The people of Oldtown could even tell the time by the shadow cast by the tower.

"Your Grace, this is the High Tower of House Hightower. The Conqueror, Aegon, also visited here. House Hightower was the first to pledge allegiance to the Targaryens," Lord Leyton explained as he followed Viserys, recounting the deep-rooted connection between the two Houses.

House Hightower had indeed been loyal, supporting House Targaryen even during Robert’s Rebellion. However, during the Targaryen reign—whether it was the Dance of the Dragons or the Blackfyre Rebellion—they had often been entangled in the realm's conflicts. Their influence in Oldtown was immense, and Viserys knew he couldn’t move against House Hightower directly. But he could shift power in Oldtown. In time, both the Church and the Citadel would need to be separated from the city’s grasp.

"Your Grace, as you can see, the Shadow of the High Tower points directly east. It is time for us to light the beacon," said the old Lord Leyton.

"Very well, let the Princess do it." Viserys glanced at Dany, who understood immediately. She summoned the silver dragon, Rhaelarion.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the dragon breathed fire, lighting the beacon atop the High Tower. As the silver dragon circled the lighthouse, its scales shimmered in the golden-red glow of the flames.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Leyton said, bowing. “Tonight, the sailors will surely return home faster and more safely than before.”

But there was a minor issue—the intense dragonfire had melted the lampshade. Fortunately, the beacon’s flame wasn’t nearly as hot as the dragon’s fire, so no lasting damage was done to the High Tower itself. Leyton, however, was not concerned. He decided to have someone collect the dragonfire, seeing it as a way to increase the sanctity of his House.

Meanwhile, Dany hovered above the crowd on Rhaelarion, casting a majestic figure over Oldtown. Lord Leyton turned to Viserys once more. "Your Grace, I have a proposal."

"Please, Lord Leyton," Viserys replied.

"Now that the usurper’s downfall is only a matter of time, I know that Your Grace has taken some concubines, but it is not wise to leave the throne without an official queen. If Your Grace is willing, Oldtown would be honored to host a grand wedding for you and the Prince. It would also lift the morale of your advisors. What do you think?"

Viserys’s mouth twitched slightly. The old man certainly has a sharp mind. He knew exactly what Leyton was after. If he and Dany were to wed in Oldtown, future Targaryen royalty would likely follow suit, drawing countless people and wealth to the city. No wonder the Lords of Oldtown have such a good head on their shoulders.

"Thank you, Lord Leyton, for your kind offer," Viserys said diplomatically. "But as long as Robert’s head remains on his shoulders, I will not rest easy. We can discuss weddings after that matter is settled."

Viserys hadn’t given a clear answer, but Leyton understood his meaning. A shame, Leyton thought. If only I had a daughter of suitable age, I might have offered her to Viserys myself.

Soon after, Dany descended from the sky on her dragon, and under Lord Leyton's guidance, they made their way to the base of the High Tower. The foundation of the fortress was a labyrinthine structure, built from a material reminiscent of the Black Wall in Volantis. Some speculated that it had been constructed by the Valyrians, though the truth remained debatable.

Viserys, however, had no interest in unraveling the mysteries of its origins. His focus was elsewhere.

The High Tower boasted three spiral staircases and seven floors, each serving a distinct purpose. As Lord Leyton explained, he led Viserys and Dany to the seventh floor, where he and his daughter, Malora, studied magic.

"Your Grace, if you’re interested, Malora can show you some of our latest magical advancements," Leyton offered.

"We’ll see," Viserys replied, not fully committing.

Malora stepped forward, producing a two-foot-long ‘magic wand’ from her robes. She recited an incantation and directed it at a feather lying on the table before them. The feather quivered slightly but did not lift.

Leyton's face showed a flicker of embarrassment, but Malora remained undeterred. She attempted the spell again. This time, the feather shook more visibly, though it still failed to rise.

Smiling awkwardly, Leyton turned to Viserys and Dany. "We’ve discovered that certain types of wood, combined with specific materials, can be used to perform tasks through the power of thought."

"May I see what she’s holding?" Viserys asked, intrigued.

"Of course," Leyton agreed, nodding toward Malora. "Malora, show His Grace your magic wand."

Malora, showing no sign of frustration from her failed attempts, smiled warmly and handed the wand to Viserys. He took it, examining the strange object. Threads wrapped around the wood, as if woven from some sort of animal fur.

"What’s wrapped around this?" Viserys asked.

"Your Grace, that’s mammoth fur," Malora replied.

"A mammoth from beyond the Wall?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Leyton confirmed, "though it came from a corpse."

Viserys, curious, decided to give the wand a try. He focused, channeling the magic within him. It took a few moments, but after three slow breaths, he felt the power flow to the wand’s tip. Mimicking the incantation Malora had used, he added a slight flick to his wrist.

The feather quivered, then spun upward, caught in a small whirlwind before falling back to the table. Viserys tried again, adjusting his movements, and on the third attempt, the feather floated steadily in midair.

Malora watched closely, her eyes lighting up. She noticed that Viserys's hand movements followed a certain magical rhythm, a subtle dance of power.

Both father and daughter stood stunned. They hadn’t expected Viserys to demonstrate such raw talent, and it dawned on them that he was a skilled sorcerer in his own right.

"Ser Leyton," Viserys said, still holding the wand, "I suggest we start calling this a ‘wand’ officially. It seems to be made of grapevine, so you might consider stuffing it with more mammoth hair."

"Thank you, Your Grace, for the name," Leyton replied with a deep bow.

"By the way, where did you find a grimoire?" Viserys asked, his curiosity piqued.

"We salvaged them, Your Grace," Leyton answered.

"And the idea for making wands—did that come from the grimoire as well?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Leyton said. "The grimoire had been submerged in the sea for who knows how long. Much of it has rotted away, but we are working on restoring what we can."

Viserys realized he was witnessing the development of a whole new magical system. He saw potential—something entirely different from the traditional Valyrian magic that he had grown up hearing about.

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