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Chapter 238: Lynd's Threat
🕑 Added 2025-03-30 13:52:08 +0000 UTCLynd had no idea what kind of commotion his arrival had caused in Qohor, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have cared.
After passing through the ruins of Ar Noy, he continued his journey upriver along the Qhoyne. Without the strong currents from the Darkwash River slowing him down, the boat moved much faster, and by the end of the day, he had already reached the waters near Qohor’s docks.
Lynd saw that the docks were brightly lit with countless torches, illuminating the entire area. A large crowd had gathered, seemingly waiting for someone.
It didn’t take long for him to realize exactly who they were waiting for. The moment his small boat appeared on the river outside the docks, a commotion erupted. Shouts filled the air—his name, his titles—called out in heavily accented Westerosi Common Tongue.
Lynd wasn’t surprised that his presence had been noticed. After all, he had encountered numerous ships along the way. Anyone paying attention would have noticed his small vessel moving upriver at an unnatural speed. A sharp eye and a bit of analysis would have easily led them to guess his identity.
It was no mystery why the people of Qohor were waiting for him, though he found their reaction to be a bit excessive. The welcome was louder, more enthusiastic than he had expected.
Unfortunately for them, their fervor did nothing to change his demeanor.
He ceased generating the strong winds and instead used telekinesis to guide his boat closer to the docks. Raising a hand, he signaled for silence. Then, using a rune he had acquired from the Cloudtop Bell—one that amplified sound—he spoke in pure Valyrian:
“Is there someone from House Soyed here? Or its patriarch?”
With the amplification rune, Lynd’s voice boomed as though descending from the heavens, echoing throughout the city. It wasn’t just those at the docks who heard it—the entire city of Qohor was made aware of his arrival.
Though Qohor was known as the City of Wizards, and its people were no strangers to mystical forces, few had ever witnessed anything like this—words that resonated in every ear as though spoken by the gods themselves.
Amid the murmurs and unrest, an elderly man clad in the robes of the Black Goat Church stepped forward from the crowd. Bowing respectfully, he said,
“I am Qos Soyed, patriarch of House Soyed. Lord Lynd Tarran.”
Lynd studied the man for a moment, then tossed something onto the dock—a House Soyed token he had taken from the corpse of a Dothraki raider leader. The token landed at Qos’s feet.
Lynd sized up the man before him and tossed House Soyed token he had taken from the Dothraki bandit leader onto the dock, where it landed at the man's feet. Then he said, “The Dothraki raiders you sent are dead in the lake deeps. If you wish, you can go collect their bodies. The ice on them should still be intact—their corpses should still be fresh.”
Qos Soyed’s face darkened. He had been about to speak in his own defense, but now he found himself speechless. Lynd’s words made one thing painfully clear—he knew. He knew that House Soyed had seized the magical armor, and he knew exactly where it was.
“I’m going to retrieve what’s mine now,” Lynd continued. “By the time I return, I expect you to have decided how you’re going to compensate me. You have one chance. If I am not satisfied, I will erase House Soyed from existence.”
He let the words hang in the air before turning his gaze to the other Qohorik elites gathered nearby.
“Of course,” he added, “you’re free to seek help from your allies in the city. But if you do, I will consider all of Qohor my enemy, and my retaliation will extend to the entire city. If that happens, calming my wrath will no longer be your problem alone—it will be Qohor’s.”
He gave them one final look. “Think carefully. You still have time.”
With that, Lynd used telekinesis to steer his boat in a swift arc across the water, heading upstream into the depths of the Qohor Forest.
Behind him, the entire city stood in stunned silence.
...
Seated at the stern of the boat, Maester Marwyn had been left just as shocked as the rest of Qohor. He didn’t regain his composure until the city had completely vanished from sight. Only then did he turn to Lynd, his voice laced with concern.
“Lord Lynd, if House Soyed does not offer compensation that satisfies you… will you truly act against Qohor?”
“Of course,” Lynd replied without hesitation. “I keep my word.”
Marwyn hesitated, then asked, “Are you planning to summon troops from Summerhall?”
Lynd shook his head. “Impossible. It’s too far. Until Ny Sar and Ghoyan Drohe are fully rebuilt, I won’t be deploying any armies into the interior.”
In truth, there was something else he hadn’t mentioned. Until the three major Free Cities in the Disputed Lands were under his control, he wouldn’t even begin formally rebuilding Ghoyan Drohe and Ny Sar. At most, he would send scouts to survey the ruins and draft reconstruction plans.
“So… you intend to take on the entire city of Qohor alone?” Marwyn asked, though he already suspected the answer.
“Yes,” Lynd said with a nod.
Marwyn’s expression grew serious. “I won’t deny that your power is immense—almost godlike—but I don’t believe you can take on all of Qohor by yourself.”
Lynd nodded again. “You’re right. As I am now, taking on the entire city would be difficult.”
His words weren’t modesty—they were a simple, undeniable truth.
The warlocks, witches, pyromancers, blood sorcerers, and other practitioners of strange arts in Qohor might not be particularly powerful on their own, but their abilities were highly unpredictable. If they combined their forces, their unconventional methods could pose a considerable threat to Lynd—one he might not be able to completely counter.
However, none of that truly concerned him. The real threat, the one that genuinely made him wary, was the Black Goat Temple.
Lynd had already learned from White Skull Udawu, the cannibalistic river pirate who worshipped the Black Goat, that the Black Goat was as real as some of the ancient gods—akin to the Many-Faced God. He had come to Qohor fully prepared for that possibility.
Yet as he neared the city's docks, just as he had seen in Highgarden’s Godswood, his special vision allowed him to glimpse the towering presence of the Black Goat looming over Qohor.
Unlike Garth Greenhand, who had a tangible form, the Black Goat was nothing more than a swirling mass of black mist. Even so, the oppressive force it exerted far surpassed that of Garth Greenhand. It was clear that its power exceeded his by a significant margin.
Despite this overwhelming presence, the Black Goat's influence was confined to the spiritual realm. In terms of raw power, an entity that struggled to manifest fully in the physical world would not be able to stand against Lynd in direct combat.
...
“Since you know that one person cannot take on all of Qohor, why did you make such an arrogant declaration earlier?” Marwyn asked, looking at Lynd in confusion.
“Maester Marwyn, you misunderstood,” Lynd corrected him. “I only said that I cannot take on all of Qohor alone right now.” He then added, “But once I retrieve my Banished Knight armor, everything will change.”
With that, he offered no further explanation and instead shifted the conversation, asking Marwyn about Qohor’s mines.
Like Norvos, Qohor was a Free City that upheld slavery. However, Braavos’s hatred for Qohor ran far deeper than its disdain for Norvos. This was because Qohor had inherited Valyria’s vast mining operations in the Great Forest of Qohor—a place from which many Braavosi had once escaped as slaves.
The mines in the Qohor Forest had existed since the time of the Old Empire of Ghis, originally developed under Ghiscari rule. But when Valyria crushed the Ghiscari Empire, control of the mines shifted to the Freehold.
Under Valyrian rule, prisoners from conquered nations and fallen Free Cities were sent to labor in the mines, never to see the outside world again.
When Valyria was destroyed, Qohor had yet to fully secure control of the mines. In the ensuing chaos, countless slaves and war captives managed to escape, fleeing toward the city they believed to be their salvation—Braavos. For a time, the mines fell into abandonment due to the lack of forced labor.
Eventually, Qohor reasserted its dominance over the mines, purchasing vast numbers of slaves from Slaver’s Bay and the Dothraki. It did not take long for the mines to return to full operation.
The mines of Qohor produced exceptionally high-quality iron, tin, and copper ore—similar to those found in Lynd’s mines in the Red Mountains. These ores required minimal refinement before they could be used to forge weapons, armor, and other metalworks. The deposits were so vast that, despite being mined for over a thousand years, they had yet to be exhausted.
Because of this, the deeper sections of the mines were like an intricate labyrinth. Anyone who ventured inside without guidance could easily become lost, wandering aimlessly until they perished in the darkness.
Even the mine owners of Qohor never dared to explore the depths. They simply purchased slaves and threw them into the mines, posting guards at the entrances and exits to ensure the slaves could only obtain food by exchanging it for the ore they extracted.
Over time, the enslaved miners established their own underground settlements. The strongest among them ruled over the others, setting laws, hoarding resources, and controlling entire sections of the mine. Fights often broke out over the most valuable mineral veins, particularly those rich in precious metals. These conflicts even escalated into full-fledged underground wars.
Qohor’s ruling class was well aware of this, but they did nothing to stop it. As long as the flow of ore continued, they had no interest in regulating what happened below ground.
...
After listening to Marwyn’s account of the Qohor mines, Lynd raised an eyebrow.
“You seem quite familiar with all this. Have you been down there yourself?”
Marwyn nodded. “I have. When I first arrived in Essos, I was captured by a group of bandits. They sold me as a slave, and I ended up in Qohor’s mines.”
Lynd’s curiosity was piqued. “How did you escape?”
“I didn’t.” Marwyn shook his head. “I saved the life of an overseer. He recognized my skill as a healer and sold me to a necromancer in Qohor. I became his assistant, helping him dissect corpses. Later, he took me to Asshai, where I lived for a time—until he was assassinated. That’s when I left.”
Lynd’s interest grew. “I’ve always been curious about Asshai, but I doubt I’ll have time to go there myself. Can you tell me about it?”
“It’s not a place fit for human habitation. The people who live there… they’re all monsters.” Marwyn’s voice was grim, his opinion of Asshai clearly unfavorable. His description was short and to the point.
But after a moment, perhaps realizing that his answer was too vague for Lynd’s satisfaction, he elaborated.
“The city is built—or rather, carved—into a massive block of black stone. Every structure, every passage, was hewn from that same mysterious black rock.”
He trailed off, suddenly lost in thought, as if trapped in a memory. His expression darkened, and for a long while, he said nothing.
Lynd did not press him. He waited.
It was nearly half an hour before Marwyn finally emerged from his thoughts. He exhaled slowly and turned to Lynd.
“Asshai is… indescribable. No words can truly capture what it is. You would have to see it for yourself. No matter how detailed someone’s account is, no matter how meticulously they describe every street, every house, and every person… you still wouldn’t understand Asshai.”
Lynd chuckled. “I have to admit, Maester Marwyn, you’ve made me even more curious.”
Marwyn’s voice was heavy. “I’m sorry. I hope my words don’t trouble you.”
...
North of Qohor, the Qhoyne River wound its way into dense forest, its course narrowing considerably. Unmarked tributaries branched off in various directions. Dead, half-submerged trees jutted from the water, evidence that the river had changed course at some point, flooding what had once been part of the forest.
By nightfall, the river was littered with drifting logs and hidden rocks beneath the surface. As a result, the ore transport ships had all moored along the banks—no sane captain would risk sailing these waters after dark.
So when Lynd’s small boat suddenly appeared on the river, moving at an unnatural speed, the miners and sailors were astonished. Their shock only deepened as they watched it glide across the water with impossible agility. It moved nothing like a normal flat-bottomed boat. It weaved effortlessly between obstacles, avoiding dangers with the grace of a living thing.
Before long, whispers of a ghost ship began spreading among the transport crews. The sailors aboard the docked ships murmured in hushed voices—only a vessel crewed by spirits could move like that.
Lynd ignored the commotion. His focus was entirely on the Banished Knight armor.
As he neared the Qohor mines, a resonance began to hum through him. The dragon runes on his greatsword, the Banished Knight armor, and the armor itself responded to each other.
They were like three magnets, inexorably drawn together.
Lynd no longer needed Marwyn to guide him. The connection between him and his armor was enough to lead him to the right path.
By noon the next day, Lynd and Marwyn arrived at the docks of the mining town near Qohor’s great mines.
