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Chapter 237: The Dilemma of Qohor
🕑 Added 2025-03-30 13:50:44 +0000 UTC“Ancient One? What is that?”
After forming a new pact with the one-horned giant turtle, Lynd left Ny Sar feeling satisfied. However, on the way, he couldn't help but ask Marwyn about his doubts.
Marwyn thought for a moment before replying solemnly, “I have come across similar terms in the stone tablets of the First Men. It is a collective name for certain ancient beings, such as Garth Greenhand, Brandon the Builder, and Durran Godsgrief, the first Storm King. In some texts, they are also described as those closest to the gods.” He then glanced at Lynd and added, “Much like you are now, Lord Lynd.”
Most people might feel pleased by such praise, but Lynd only frowned slightly. He knew the true fate of Garth Greenhand—bound within the heart tree of Highgarden. As for Brandon the Builder and Durran Godsgrief, their circumstances were likely similar, if not worse.
Ever since he had obtained the Nameless King’s character template, his thoughts had begun to shift. His ambitions and desires had grown. Being tied to a single place, serving as a mere guardian spirit, was far from the future he envisioned for himself.
...
The two of them continued their journey aboard the small boat they had purchased from Norvos, drifting south along the Rhoyne until they reached Dagger Lake.
Instead of heading directly north along the Qhoyne River, Lynd took the time to navigate around Dagger Lake, familiarizing himself with its waterways. Since he had resolved to rebuild Ny Sar, the river pirates in Dagger Lake would be an inevitable problem he needed to address.
Though these river pirates were not as numerous as the pirates of the Stepstones, eliminating them entirely would prove even more challenging.
Lynd had managed to seize control of the Stepstones so quickly because he had gradually forced the pirates there into a decisive battle, where he crushed their main forces in a single strike. The scattered remnants, left without outside support, were swiftly dealt with.
The situation in Dagger Lake, however, was different. The river pirates here operated on a much smaller scale. Even a group the size of White Skull Udawu’s was a rarity. Most pirate bands consisted of no more than ten ships at most. Like hyenas, they would swarm upon easy prey but scatter at the first sign of danger, rarely engaging in direct confrontations with strong foes.
More importantly, most of these river pirates were originally fishermen from villages along the Rhoyne and Qhoyne Rivers. Eradicating them completely would mean sweeping through every settlement along the riverbanks.
Even so, Lynd had numerous ways to deal with them—it would just take time. If the Elder of the River were willing to assist, the task would become significantly easier.
After gaining a better understanding of the situation in Dagger Lake, Lynd did not linger. He set course northward along the Qhoyne River toward Qohor.
...
Compared to drifting downstream, traveling upstream was noticeably slower. This time, Lynd refrained from using his telekinetic abilities to propel the boat; constantly resisting the river’s current was still too taxing for him.
Instead, when they reached Dagger Lake, he simply seized a flat-bottomed sailboat from the river pirates and conjured a strong wind to push them upstream.
As they entered the Qhoyne River, river traffic increased significantly. Aside from the fishing boats belonging to the local riverfolk, the most common vessels they encountered were the cargo ships of the Qohorik Guild of Craftsmen.
In Qohor, although power was nominally divided into three factions, it was the Guild of Craftsmen that truly controlled the city’s economy. Nearly 80% of Qohor’s total income came from the guild, with the Smiths’ Guild alone accounting for over 80% of that figure. Their dominance over Qohor’s financial lifeblood was undeniable.
However, in recent years, the Smiths’ Guild had been struggling. The root of their troubles lay in Summerhall, which had seized over 90% of the weapons market, leaving the Qohorik smiths barely able to sustain themselves by focusing on high-quality weaponry and specialized armor.
The smiths of Qohor had tried to reclaim their lost market, but their efforts were futile. Summerhall’s weapons were sold at incredibly low prices, making competition nearly impossible.
When it came to high-end craftsmanship, Qohorik smiths could indeed produce superior weapons compared to the mass-produced arms from Summerhall’s water-powered forges. However, in terms of ordinary weapons—the bulk of the market—the difference in quality was not significant enough to justify the massive price gap. Summerhall’s weapons were sold at just one-third of the price of Qohor’s, making any marginal quality advantage meaningless in the face of such overwhelming cost efficiency.
Due to the influx of weapons from Summerhall, Qohor’s overall revenue had been cut in half. This sharp decline directly led to significant budget reductions for both the Mage's Association and the Church of the Black Goat. As a result, there was hardly anyone in Qohor who held any goodwill toward Lynd at the moment. House Soyed’s move against Lynd’s magical armor was likely tied to this situation in one way or another.
Propelled by strong winds, Lynd’s small boat moved at an astonishing speed—so fast that it left the sailors on the Qohorik cargo ships stunned. Some sharp-eyed individuals on board even caught a clear glimpse of Lynd and the greatsword of the Banished Knight strapped to his waist.
A boat moving at such an unnatural pace, paired with such a distinctive figure, naturally aroused suspicion. Coupled with the recent rumors, some well-informed Qohorik merchants began piecing together his identity, sensing that Qohor was about to get interesting.
Lynd’s arrival on the continent of Essos was no longer a secret. Ever since news had spread from Braavos, many had carefully traced his movements, deducing his disguised travels—such as his stint as the so-called Lion Knight. It wasn’t difficult for those with the right connections to infer that his true objective was none other than the magical armor crafted by House Soyed in Qohor.
After all, Lynd was widely acknowledged across Westeros as one of the few who had truly mastered the mysteries of magic. And yet, despite wielding a pair of enchanted greatswords, he had never possessed magical armor. Many saw this as an imperfection. Now that House Soyed had successfully forged such armor, it was only natural that Lynd would take an interest.
However, apart from a handful of higher-ups in Qohor, most people were unaware of the deeper connection between Lynd and the magical armor. They also had no idea that he wasn’t just coming for the armor—he was coming to stir up trouble.
So, the moment his identity was recognized, news of his approach was swiftly relayed to Qohor through various channels.
...
By the time Lynd’s boat reached the confluence of the Qhoyne and Darkwash Rivers, passing the ruins of the abandoned Rhoynar city of Ar Noy, word of his arrival had already spread throughout Qohor.
Within the city, Qohor’s three ruling factions each had their own stance on his impending arrival.
The Guild of Craftsmen, unsurprisingly, despised him. They would have gladly seen him dead if it meant reclaiming their lost market. There was no chance they would welcome him with open arms.
The Church of the Black Goat, on the other hand, remained neutral. While Lynd was often referred to as the Chosen of the Seven and an incarnation of the Storm God, neither a Sept of the Seven nor a Storm God temple existed in Qohor. Instead, the Black Goat priests were more concerned with their immediate threat—the growing influence of the Temple of R’hllor.
Moreover, the Church of the Black Goat relied primarily on tithes from their followers and land taxes. While Qohor’s tax revenue had taken a massive hit due to the Guild of Craftsmen’s declining profits, this had little impact on the church’s overall finances. As such, they held no strong opinions on Lynd’s arrival.
It was the Mage's Association, however, that welcomed him with great enthusiasm.
To the scholars and practitioners of magic in Qohor, Lynd was regarded as a trailblazer in the field of the arcane. Many warlocks, witches, and shadowbinders saw him as a guiding figure, almost a spiritual mentor. If not for various restrictions preventing them from leaving Qohor, some of them might have already sought him out in his own lands.
For those in Qohor obsessed with the pursuit of mystical knowledge, Lynd’s arrival was nothing short of a grand occasion.
...
While the city’s ruling factions each reacted to his approach in their own way, another group was also making their move. Those who knew the truth about the magical armor—individuals with ties to the deeper mysteries of Qohor—began converging upon House Soyed, one of the city’s most influential families.
“Now that Lynd Tarran has come knocking, how do you plan to deal with this?” The High Priest of the Black Goat Church directly questioned Qos Soyed, the patriarch of House Soyed and a fellow priest of the Black Goat Church.
The High Priest of the Black Goat Church, much like the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven, abandoned his former name and identity upon taking his position. His authority was the highest in Qohor, and even as he spoke harshly to Qos Soyed, the other priest dared not express any resentment.
Qos Soyed answered honestly, “The item is currently stored in the mines. Once Lynd Tarran arrives, we will simply return it to him.”
The High Priest’s expression immediately twisted in disbelief. He scrutinized Qos as though looking at a fool and scoffed, “Do you even hear yourself, Priest Qos? Has the black water of the Ash River rotted your brain? You think simply giving it back will be enough? If someone stole from your house, and after you traveled across mountains and rivers to find them, they handed it back and said, ‘Here, take it,’ would you just walk away satisfied?”
Qos's face darkened. In truth, he hadn't seriously considered the matter—he had merely spoken offhandedly. He hadn't expected such a strong reaction from the High Priest.
“In any case, House Soyed isn't entirely to blame for this,” interjected Boya Sathi, the head of the Mage's Association. “If certain people hadn’t been pushing them, I doubt they would have dared to go through with it.”
Boya Sathi was a warlock from Qarth. He had once lived in the House of the Undying for a long time and had regularly consumed the shade of the evening, which had turned his skin, lips, and nails deep purple, while his eyes had become entirely black.
He had left the House of the Undying after receiving a prophecy—one foretelling its destruction in flames, with the Undying Ones consumed by fire. Fear of this fate, coupled with his disgust toward the decadence and stagnation of his fellow warlocks, led him to abandon his seat, relinquish all his privileges in Qarth, and seek refuge in Qohor, where he joined the Mage’s Association.
Thanks to his powerful illusions and prophetic abilities, he quickly rose in rank, eventually becoming the association’s leader.
For reasons unknown, his relationship with the Guild of Craftsmen was particularly hostile. His previous comment had been aimed directly at them.
The members of the Guild of Craftsmen frowned at his words but said nothing. Instead, they turned their gazes toward the leader of the Smiths’ Guild.
Feeling their stares, the Smiths’ Guild leader scowled in frustration. Unable to contain his irritation, he snapped, “I wasn’t the only one who convinced House Soyed to keep that magical armor—you were all part of it! Don’t pretend you weren’t just as eager to get your hands on its magical secrets. And now that things have gone south, and Lynd Tarran has come for us, suddenly you’ve all lost your memories? You blame me for persuading them to hold onto the armor, but what about all of you? Weren’t you whispering in Old Qos’s ear just the same?”
“Enough,” the High Priest interjected before the argument escalated further. “Now is not the time to point fingers. What matters is how we’re going to deal with Lynd Tarran.”
“What else? We compensate him appropriately,” Boya Sathi replied bluntly.
Qos Soyed shot him a strange look. “Lord Boya, are you suggesting we compensate him with a full suit of Valyrian steel armor?”
The warlock shrugged. “I don’t see any other way to appease his anger.”
“Are you insane? A complete set of Valyrian steel armor? Do you have any idea how much that’s worth? Even if we sold every asset the Mage’s Association owns, we wouldn’t be able to buy one!” Qos shouted, turning to the other Qohorik elites in the room. “What’s wrong with all of you? Lynd Tarran is just one man—he’s not a god! When our ancestors faced the Dothraki invasion, did they surrender? No! They fought to the death and drove the horsemen back! And now? We’re surrendering before he even reaches our gates? I can’t believe this is happening in Qohor, the City of Heroes!”
His furious outburst left most of the native Qohorik nobles visibly uncomfortable, though others remained indifferent.
“But Lynd Tarran is not a Dothraki,” Boya Sathi said suddenly, breaking the tense silence. “To him, the Dothraki are nothing more than weeds in the Dothraki Sea. Do you know how many Dothraki warriors fell to him when he passed through the Disputed Lands disguised as the Lion Knight? At least five thousand—all slaughtered by him alone. Do you know what happened to Udawu, the river pirate lord of Dagger Lake, who had evaded extermination for years? He and all his men were frozen solid, turned into ice statues that still haven’t thawed.”
“And you want us to stand against a being of such power, a man who is practically divine? I don’t know whether you’re the mad one, Qos, or if I am,” he said, scanning the room before adding, “Or perhaps we all are.”
A deep silence fell over the gathering once again. This time, however, it was far heavier than before.
