(Male protagonist's perspective)
As I was immersed in healing the wounded soldiers through a ritual, I later returned to the throne room, a feeling stirring my senses and prompting me to explore further. Since Balon Baron was imprisoned in the sunroom of the Sea Tower, the hall was sparsely populated, mainly filled with guards. Scanning the room, my gaze settled on the throne itself.
A chilling unease crept into my heart, growing stronger as I approached the eerie throne. A bead of cold sweat trickled down my back as my fingers touched its oily black surface. Though I desperately wanted to touch it, a voice inside warned me against it, a nameless fear swirling within me. The instant I made contact, I recoiled, as if driven by an instinctive force.
I struggled to comprehend the throne's mystical nature. Clearly, this was no ordinary stone structure. My instincts warned me against touching it, for I sensed its disruptive influence on the surrounding natural energy. Yet, physical analysis proved a daunting task; its very presence hindered my attempt. A sense of unpreparedness and inadequacy enveloped me, much like my intuition about the fire membrane. As if it would incinerate me, this throne seemed to be beckoning an intensity I was not yet ready to confront.
In a secluded chamber, the king and other lords were discussing the fate of the Iron Islands and Balon. Meryn Trant and Preston Greenfield, who had been on guard outside, finally allowed me in after a brief pause. With the aid of my Wannian powers, I already knew the content of their conversation. They decided to divide the spoils: half the gold would go to the king, totaling 2 million gold dragons. The remainder would be shared among the other lords.
As the discussion unfolded, Lord Stark made a request to all the slaves living on the island, totaling approximately 500,000, as I suggested. Considering the North's enormous contribution to the war, Lord Stark received the second largest share. In addition to the captives, he also received 800,000 gold dragons. Lord Tywin, though unwilling to be surpassed, was powerless to change this arrangement.
Most lords were more interested in gold than prisoners of war, even though the concept of free labor was appealing. Entering the damp, dimly lit room, I saw everyone gathered around a table covered with maps of the Iron Islands. The scholars present held documents, their expressions focused and serious.
Aside from the central table, the atmosphere in the room was rather somber, with only the waiter refilling the king's water. Upon seeing me, the king raised his cup with a hint of mockery and joked, "The priest of the Old Gods has arrived."
" Your Majesty"
"What are you looking for, Druid?"
"I would like to know your intentions regarding the punishment of Balon."
At this moment, Lord Royce interjected, his tone stern.
"Since you have concealed your true identity, I cannot be certain. However, your behavior indicates a lack of noble manners, therefore it is necessary to avoid addressing the lord by his first name. Even in captivity, Balon Baron remains a nobleman."
"In the eyes of the Old Gods, I am far more glorious and noble than traitors like the House Royce. The once mighty Bronze King has fallen to such a state, reduced to a mere pawn of the Seven. That ancient bronze armor, protected by the Old Gods, is not a sacred garment you deserve."
Royce's hand, gripping the sword hilt, twitched slightly, alerting the Kingsguard to Robert's safety.
"Lord Royce," I cautioned, "Don't let your entrails spill onto the ground and spoil the King's mood. Please sheathe your sword. Though I would be honored to stain the ground with the blood of a traitor like you, it's best not to do such a foolish thing."
I exuded a magical aura that made the assembled lords nauseous, and continued, "Let us be clear about who I am. I am not a nobleman, nor am I a subject of any of you gentlemen. I will treat you with courtesy in return. However, I will not tolerate the rudeness of Lord Royce. I seek neither hostility nor submission; I am not a coward to be manipulated."
I turned my gaze to Lord Royce and asked.
"Are we going to have a fight, or should we focus our energy on more pressing matters? If you wish, I won't even use my magic. You're simply Unworthy."
Robert observed silently, letting Lord Royce's actions determine his next move. It was quite possible he didn't care about conflict, and might even be inclined to it. Lord Royce glanced at the king, noticing Robert's inclination towards neutrality. Therefore, he withdrew his hand from his weapon and stood at attention again. Placing the empty cup on the table, Robert said...
"Druid, your presence has certainly invigorated the meeting. We have decided to entrust his only surviving son to Lord Stark's care, and we have emptied his vault of valuables."
"My king, these measures are insufficient to deter him, nor to eliminate the threat of the Ironborn that plagues the North."
Hoster Tully interjected.
"Are you implying that he will endanger his son's life? His son is under Lord Stark's guardianship, and any rebellion could cost him his life—this is a patricide that Balon himself orchestrated."
Parricide is a major taboo in Westeros and will lead to the perpetrator being ostracized.
"Would a man like Balon truly grieve for his son's fate? He has already broken his oath; how can you expect him to keep it? True peace is impossible as long as ancient traditions persist. I understand your reservations, Your Majesty. You fear the consequences of Balon's execution, but pardoning this traitor who broke his oath would severely jeopardize your legacy."
Robert's interest was piqued, and he asked.
"Do you have any other solutions? Or is this just wishful thinking?"