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Chapter 233: The Brazen Bell of Norvos
🕑 Added 2025-03-28 13:33:10 +0000 UTCThe Rhoynar once built numerous city-states along both banks of the Rhoyne River. At the height of their power, these cities were all known for their prosperity and wealth. Even now, aside from a few abandoned ruins like Ghoyan Drohe, the new towns established atop the remnants of the old city-states have without exception become major trading hubs along the Rhoyne.
During the Rhoynar’s reign over these city-states, they accumulated immense wealth, which was collected by the Rhoynar governors and stored in treasure vaults. When the Valyrian dragonlords launched their full-scale invasion, all of this wealth was buried within the ruins of the Rhoynar’s fallen cities.
For reasons unknown, the Valyrian dragonlords never attempted to excavate these treasures, even after the destruction of the Valyrian Freehold.
Over a hundred years ago, when Volantis, Qohor, and Norvos resumed trade, the old Rhoynish cities along the Rhoyne also began to recover. During the process of rebuilding, people occasionally unearthed scattered treasures from the ruins. Rumors of the Rhoynar’s lost riches soon spread across Essos and eventually reached Westeros.
Despite the long-standing rumors, very few people have actually found significant treasures. Most only discovered small caches in the ruins, and no one has ever uncovered the great treasure vault where the Rhoynar stored their wealth.
Some believe that the vault lies within the ruins of a great city like Chroyane or Ny Sar, but those who have ventured there in search of it have never returned.
Even places as perilous as Chroyane and Ny Sar have drawn explorers hoping to uncover hidden riches. By contrast, a relatively safe place like Ghoyan Drohe has been thoroughly searched many times. Any valuables that once lay there have long since been taken. By all logic, there should be no treasure left to find.
Marwyn spoke in a measured tone. “I once read an ancient book that recorded details about the Rhoynar city-states. According to that book, the Rhoynar built a vast underground vault in Ghoyan Drohe to store gold smelted from the mines of the Velvet Hills. The records claim that this vault held five years’ worth of gold from the Velvet Hills mines.”
“Five years?” Lynd was momentarily stunned.
Though the Velvet Hills mines have long since been depleted, they were once the largest source of gold on the western coast of Essos. At their peak, these mines accounted for over eighty percent of the region’s gold production. The Valyrian Freehold waged relentless war against both the Rhoynar and the Andals in large part to claim the riches of the Velvet Hills.
At the time, the Rhoynar possessed the world’s most advanced smelting techniques. Not only were they the first to forge and use iron tools, but they were also exceptionally skilled in refining gold. Even today, many gold refining methods still trace their origins to Rhoynar techniques.
The amount of gold the Rhoynar produced in a single year must have been measured in tons.
“That doesn’t add up.” Lynd frowned, deep in thought. “There are two things that don’t make sense. First, why would the Rhoynar store so much gold in Ghoyan Drohe? Yes, it was an important trade hub and transportation center, but it was also dangerously close to Andal territory. The Rhoynar and the Andals were not on good terms at the time. It wouldn’t have been safe to store such a massive fortune in a vulnerable location like that.
“And second, the Valyrians should have known about this gold. Maybe they weren’t interested in scattered treasure, but this was five years’ worth of gold. The Valyrians had just crushed the Rhoynar and were still at war with the Andals. They must have needed funds for their war effort. I can’t see why they would have simply ignored such a vast sum.”
“You suspect something is amiss?” Marwyn asked gravely.
Lynd chuckled. “All I’m saying is, the more vibrant a wild fruit looks, the more cautious you should be. Because that fruit might not be a delicious treat—it might be deadly poison.”
Whether or not Ghoyan Drohe truly concealed a hidden trove of gold, whether the Tarsh family’s attack on Kevira was part of a scheme to uncover it, or whether Maester Hugh’s sudden interest in excavating Ghoyan Drohe had the same motivation—none of these things really mattered to Lynd.
What mattered to him was Ghoyan Drohe itself.
He had already decided that, upon returning to Summerhall, he would begin organizing the migration of the Orphans of the Greenblood back to the Rhoyne.
The Orphans of the Greenblood were the descendants of the Rhoynar who had fled to Westeros long ago. They had refused to assimilate into Westerosi culture, steadfastly maintaining their Rhoynish traditions. They still worshipped Mother Rhoyne and the Old Man of the River, her child. And no matter how many generations passed, they never stopped dreaming of returning to the land of their ancestors.
Because of Russell’s influence, Miracle Harbor and Wyl City had become the two most important settlements for the Orphans of the Greenblood, with large numbers of them residing there. Many Orphans had also joined the army Lynd had recruited.
Gathering enough men shouldn’t be a problem—the only question was who would lead them. In Lynd’s mind, the only person capable of taking on that role was Russell, the husband of Obella, the Lady of Wyl. However, convincing Russell to leave the comforts of his current life would be a challenge.
Lynd had already made arrangements for Ghoyan Drohe and didn’t dwell too much on why the nobles of Norvos had set their sights on the place. Whatever the reason, he knew he would inevitably have to meet them face to face.
With Maester Marwyn guiding him, Lynd no longer lost his way. Before long, he reached the Valyrian Road and set off toward Norvos.
As they entered the Hills of Norvos, the weather took a turn for the worse. The sky was often overcast, with barely a glimpse of blue. Bitterly cold winds howled down from the northern mountains, carrying a chill that made it feel as though they had passed from spring into winter overnight.
The road was flanked by vast, primeval forests, dominated by hardy trees such as beech, oak, and pine. The wilderness teemed with life, and the dangers were ever-present. Brown bears and wolves frequently emerged from the depths of the woods, lunging at horses that strayed too close. The sudden attacks caused the herd to panic and scatter, but in the end, the predators became nothing more than pelts draped over saddles.
What was truly unexpected was that the warhorses that had fled later returned, bringing with them a sizable number of wild horses. Before long, the herd trailing behind Lynd had swelled to well over a thousand—reminiscent of the roaming bands of steeds in the Disputed Lands.
After five or six days of travel, they led the herd through a canyon and across a small river, skirting the edge of a forest. Before they even caught sight of Norvos, the sound of ringing bells drifted through the air.
Marwyn listened intently to the crisp, melodic chimes and turned to Lynd. “That is the sound of Neir. Night is approaching—it’s time for those who have labored all day to return home and rest.”
Though their journey had been grueling, with little rest beyond what they could snatch on horseback, Marwyn had still found time during their breaks to share stories about Norvos. He spoke of Lomas Longstrider’s deep admiration for the city, how he had named the Norvos cave network—believed to be an entrance to the underworld—as one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the world. He had also bestowed the title of one of the Nine Man-Made Wonders upon the city’s Three Great Bells.
Even before arriving in Norvos, Lynd had been particularly intrigued by its legendary bells. He had already seen four of the Man-Made Wonders: the Hightower in Oldtown, the Wall in the North, the Valyrian Road, and the Titan of Braavos.
Among these, the Hightower and the Wall bore clear traces of magic, and the Titan of Braavos had some magical essence as well. Only the Valyrian Road seemed to be purely a feat of engineering.
This made Lynd wonder—could the Great Bells of Norvos also contain some kind of magical power?
Though he had yet to lay eyes on them, he already had an answer in his heart. The bells of Norvos undoubtedly carried magic.
When the sound of the bells reached him, it did more than lift his spirits. Deep within his chest, the Nameless King rune faintly resonated, reacting to the tolling chimes. The rune’s power stirred, shaping itself into an entirely new pattern under the influence of the sound.
But just as the rune totem was about to fully form, the bells suddenly ceased their ringing. The pattern unraveled and faded before it could take shape, leaving Lynd with a vague sense of unease.
As they continued forward through the forest, the landscape suddenly opened up before them. A vast plain lay nestled between encircling mountains, with a winding river cutting through its center. At a bend in the river, where the waters had carved out a wide floodplain, a city rose from the earth, its structures stretching from the riverbanks up the steep mountainside.
Midway up the mountain, a massive stone wall with built-in staircases wrapped around the entire slope, dividing the city into an upper and lower section. At the very peak of the mountain, standing alone in solemn grandeur, was a magnificent temple. In front of its main entrance, three enormous bronze bells were prominently displayed in the square, their towering forms visible even from a great distance.
Marwyn had been to Norvos before and still had some connections in the city. Without delay, he sought out a local horse trader and sold all their horses to him.
The Norvoshi trader was visibly surprised to see that most of the horses were Dothraki warhorses, but he was experienced enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Without asking any unnecessary questions, he swiftly completed the transaction.
Lynd did not immediately seek out the House Tashi. Instead, he found an inn where he could clean up and rest. He had decided to visit the temple fortress atop the mountain that night to see the three bronze bells before turning his attention to the House Tashi.
He asked Marwyn if he had any contacts that could grant him direct access to the mountaintop, but Marwyn only shook his head in regret. His relationship with the bearded priests of Norvos was far from amicable—he had already been blacklisted by them and was forbidden from approaching the city walls.
...
As night fell, the lower city of Norvos came alive. Taverns and brothels opened their doors, and the streets were bathed in the warm glow of lanterns. The murmur of voices, the clinking of mugs, and the laughter of revelers filled the air, pushing back the bite of the cold wind.
In stark contrast, the upper city remained eerily quiet. Along the stone steps outside the great city walls, rows of bearded priests knelt in silent prayer. With each recitation, they ascended another step, their movements slow and reverent.
At every landing between the staircases, squads of sacred guards stood watch. These soldiers, clad in leather armor, bore the unmistakable marks of slavery—iron collars around their necks. They wielded long-handled battleaxes and had the hardened physiques of men trained for war.
Despite being one of the Free Cities, Norvos had no direct trade or political relations with Braavos due to its staunch practice of slavery. At one point, Braavos had considered treating Norvos as it had Pentos—pressuring it to abolish slavery on its own. However, the plan was ultimately abandoned. Lorath, Pentos, and Qohor all secretly supported Norvos, and any conflict would have forced Braavos to contend with four Free Cities at once. No matter how confident the Sealord of Braavos might have been, even he knew that a one-against-four war was unwinnable. Instead, Braavos expressed its discontent through a policy of non-engagement, refusing to establish direct diplomatic or trade relations with Norvos.
Lynd had no intention of attempting the stone steps. Only the bearded priests and their most devout followers were permitted to ascend them. Even the most powerful nobles of the city were forbidden from setting foot on them, let alone an outsider like himself. If he tried, he would almost certainly be stopped—or worse, accused of blasphemy.
Instead, he circled halfway around the city at the base of the colossal walls and found a smooth, step-less section. There, he activated the Storm Dragon rune, summoning a whirlwind that lifted him skyward, carrying him effortlessly to the temple’s peak.
Within less than a minute, he landed firmly on the temple’s upper platform.
...
Inside the temple, a solemn prayer ritual was underway. A congregation of bearded priests chanted in deep, resonant tones, their voices rising and falling in harmony. The rhythm of their recitation mimicked the tolling of great bells.
Lynd did not approach the temple itself. Instead, he moved along the platform’s edge toward the square, where the three massive bronze bells stood. With all the priests gathered inside and the slave guards stationed on the stone steps, the plaza was eerily empty.
The mountain winds howled, their force strong enough to send an unwary traveler tumbling off the edge. Yet, despite the relentless gusts, the three bronze bells remained utterly motionless—immovable as the mountain beneath them.
Most people would assume that their sheer weight prevented them from swaying in the wind. But to Lynd’s eyes, the truth was far different.
The bells were bound by magic.
Intricate runes flowed like liquid across their surfaces, cascading downward like streams of water before seamlessly merging with the stone beneath. These runes anchored the bells to the earth, making them appear less like hanging instruments and more like three towering pillars of power.
Unlike the runes on the Hightower or the Wall, which radiated an overwhelming sense of pressure, the magic of the bells felt gentle, almost soothing—harmless at first glance.
Yet they were entirely different from the Titan of Braavos as well. The magical energy emanating from them was even stronger. Each of the three bells bore a unique rune, yet all three were interconnected, forming a greater whole.
Lynd couldn't resist the urge to reach out.
The moment his fingers touched the surface of one of the bells, the three separate runes flared to life. In an instant, they converged around the Nameless King rune within him, fusing into a new, singular glyph.
As the newly-formed rune embedded itself into his heart, a vivid image flashed through his mind—a vision of the method used to craft the bronze bells of Norvos.
