"This situation has gotten this serious?" Edmure found it somewhat unbelievable.
Wright caught the meaning behind his words and turned to him. "Lord Edmure, old Frey ordered you to muster troops in the Riverlands. What exactly did he write in his letters?"
Old Frey had coveted the title of Lord Paramount of the Riverlands for a long time. Not long ago, he had raised several thousand troops. Edmure, fearing he was up to something, had reluctantly led men to investigate. With the king present in the Westerlands, Edmure wasn't too worried about old Frey daring to move against him. Not wanting to let others mock the Riverlands, he had decided to handle the matter himself and refrained from informing Robert.
"Old Frey sent me two letters. The first mentioned the appearance of unknown mages among the wildlings in the Mountains of the Moon. Soldiers patrolling his lands had suffered casualties, and he insisted the wildlings must be curbed. The second letter came after word of the vampire outbreak in Tyrosh reached here—old Frey explicitly stated that it was vampires."
When Edmure finished speaking, all the nobles turned their eyes to him. He hadn't reported the situation to the king, and now Wright had ridden his dragon here personally. Many shook their heads, and murmurs spread through the tent.
In the military structure of the Seven Kingdoms, the supreme commander in wartime was the one appointed by the king. During the Tyroshi War, everyone followed the command of Barristan Selmy. If the king had not appointed a commander, the highest military authority belonged to the lords of the North, Reach, Stormlands, Vale, and Westerlands, depending on where the war was taking place.
Command meant securing military achievements. Easy, decisive victories were given to allies, while dangerous, suicidal missions were assigned to rivals. Now, with the Riverlands losing its command, the nobles accompanying Edmure were deeply displeased, and even the Westerland lords whispered among themselves.
The Riverlands was the most awkwardly positioned of all regions. To the north was the Warden of the North; to the east, the Warden of the East in the Vale; to the west, the Warden of the West; and to the south, the Crownlands under the direct rule of the king. Even the Reach had a Warden of the South. The only exceptions were Dorne, which was highly autonomous, the Stormlands, which was the king's homeland, and the Stepstones, under the Warden of the Narrow Sea. The Riverlands had nothing.
Now, Wright had arrived to take over military command. If they couldn't even protect their own land, and had to spend their money and men without gaining anything in return, no one would be pleased.
Wright had sharp ears and clearly heard the hushed conversations. Smiling slightly, he addressed the gathered nobles.
"Lord Edmure, Ser Jaime. Whether it's an unknown mages or vampires, handling such matters falls within my jurisdiction as Archmage of the Seven Kingdoms. However, when I take to the skies on my dragon, I cannot lead ground forces in battle. Therefore, command of the soldiers will remain with you two."
Wright's perspective was entirely different from theirs, and he was not interested in leading armies. Military command meant little to him—he only needed their cooperation.
The nobles instantly perked up, and Edmure laughed in agreement. "True, a dragon flies too fast; we wouldn't be able to keep up on horseback."
"What happens if we let the vampires run rampant?" Jaime interjected, considering whether he could lead the Westerlands' forces to rescue his son on his own.
Wright replied, "To vampires, humans are merely food. Do any of you know how quickly rabbits breed? Vampires turn others by feeding them their blood and biting them. Once their blood is replenished, the cycle repeats at a rate comparable to rabbits. If left unchecked, in less than three years, there would be no humans left on the continent of Westeros."
"I have no desire to turn into one of those monsters!" Edmure cursed, slamming his armrest.
The nobles in the tent began calculating. Domesticated rabbits were rare in Westeros—raising them required too much feed, making cows and sheep more practical. Wild rabbits, however, were a staple game animal for noble hunts. No matter how many they killed in a season, there always seemed to be more the following year. It was as if the supply was endless.
Wright glanced at Edmure. "Lord Edmure, while vampires are a great threat, their ashes are valuable materials. I and many other mages are willing to purchase them at high prices, so be sure to spread the word."
Unlike White Walkers, which were purely monstrous, vampires could wield magic, possessed endless stamina, were unaffected by cold or disease, and were rumored to have unnaturally long lifespans. Perhaps they even had some beautifying or height-enhancing effects. This made them highly appealing to certain people. Wright knew there would always be those willing to betray their own kind just to be turned. That was why he had to intensify his efforts to vilify them.
Jaime, after a moment of contemplation, looked up. "Wright, as the commander of the Westerlands' forces, I will support your decisions in battle."
Wright nodded at him.
Jaime could distinguish between major and minor matters. He would not abandon his goal of rescuing his son but had merely added vampire extermination to his agenda. His words had also been carefully chosen—he would follow Wright's orders in battle, but outside of combat, each would do as they pleased.
By now, Wright understood that the combined armies were essentially controlled by Jaime. Edmure had no grasp of military strategy, and although the Westerlands had a cavalry commander under Tywin, the army's movements ultimately depended on Jaime's decisions.
"Jaime, when do you plan to move out again?" Wright asked.
Jaime replied, "It's been raining constantly in the Riverlands. The roads are muddy, the men and horses are exhausted, and the soldiers' clothes are all soaked through. If we force a march, disease will break out. We originally planned to rest here for three days."
Wright turned to Edmure. "Lord Edmure, do you think the rain will stop for a few days?"
Edmure smiled. "You have no idea how much we hate this drizzle! The maesters say winter will last for ten years, but the Riverlands are now in the Long Autumn. It's been raining on and off for months. The rivers are rising, the fields are flooded—no one likes the rain!"
"It's different from Tyrosh. Every drop of rain there is precious. We'd catch it all in barrels if we could," Wright said, standing up and walking outside the tent. "Once the sun comes out, have the soldiers take out their clothes and fodder to dry."
Edmure quickly got up and followed him, his excitement evident. "Is it that magic you used only once before?"
"It's that magic!"
A group of nobles followed Wright out of the tent, standing in the drizzle in a small clearing.
"Lok~~Vah~~Koor~~!"
"Ah!" The ladies shrieked in fright, while some nobles, confused, crouched down in alarm.
Before they could even react, Wright tilted his head back and roared at the sky.
A transparent wave of magical energy burst from his mouth, twisting the air as it surged toward the clouds, carrying droplets of rain with it. As it ascended, the energy dispersed, tearing a great hole in the thick cloud cover. Sunlight immediately poured through, a golden beam stretching across the sky, illuminating the distant fields.
The clouds began to scatter outward from the hole at an astonishing speed. Within two minutes, the gray, rain-filled sky had given way to bright sunshine.
The soldiers in the camp initially rushed out of their tents, thinking they were under attack. Realizing it was a false alarm, they returned to their shelters—only to be startled again by the sudden roar. They ran out, prepared to complain, but instead found themselves staring in awe at the miraculous change in weather.
"If I could do that, how much do you think I could charge for it?" Edmure muttered, still watching the sky.
Wright replied, "Unless it's a special circumstance, it's best not to tamper with the weather too much—it could ruin the crops. Edmure, Jaime, have the soldiers dry their clothes and fodder immediately. And melt down all the silver stags you have into daggers. Otherwise, you won't be able to deal with the vampires."
"I'll see to it at once," Edmure said, issuing orders to his men.
The logistics unit began gathering the silver stags for melting. Without Edmure's command, no one would dare touch them. He was also rather curious about how a pure silver weapon would handle.
"I have a Valyrian steel sword. I won't need silver weapons, will I?" Jaime asked as he relayed Wright's orders, his hand resting on the hilt at his waist.
Wright glanced at the longsword. "Sun's Maiden . I never expected Lord Tywin to rename it after buying it back. That makes it the third known Valyrian steel blade with a feminine name."
"Dark Sister, Lady Forlorn, and now Sun's Maiden . Sounds fitting. This sword became famous before it ever even tasted blood," Jaime said, drawing the pale blue blade.
Not only had it tasted blood, but it had also severed the head of a prisoner, extracting his soul for enchantment—a secret no one knew, and Wright had no intention of revealing.
When it had been sold, the sword was simple and unadorned. Tywin had made some modifications: a metal lion's head at the pommel, ornamental embellishments on the crossguard, and several blue gemstones embedded into it. Everything added was blue, ensuring the blade's color scheme remained uniform.
Jaime held the sword with both hands, rotating it in the light. "But what does the High Valyrian inscription say? I hired several mage fluent in the language, but none of them could translate it."
Since Wright had forged the sword himself, he didn't even need to look. "High Valyrian isn't easy to learn. You could've just written to me directly. One side reads, 'The blade slays life'. The other side says, 'Power wounds the soul'."
"Oh, so the sword is like a fierce and beautiful woman."
Jaime smirked, shifting into a combat stance—left leg forward, right leg back, knees slightly bent. His body leaned forward, right hand gripping the hilt at his waist, while his left hand gently rested on the crossguard. The sword lay against his left elbow in an aggressive pose rarely seen in Westeros.
"Wright, draw your sword and let's compare."
This brute was getting restless again.
There was no doubt Jaime was one of the finest warriors in the realm, despite his… moral failings. But Wright had no interest in fighting him today—too much risk of accidentally slicing him in half. The last thing he needed was to send Tywin back a left Jaime and Cersei a right Jaime.
"Good show, Jaime!"
"Can Lord Wright's magic even be countered by a knight?"
Westeros was a land of warriors, where nobility was often won through bloodshed. Seeing Jaime challenge Wright, the gathered lords immediately backed up, forming a circle and shouting in excitement. Realizing Wright's magic could strike from a distance, they retreated even further, widening the ring.
Wright reached behind him and drew the Bloody Scar Blade. Its black steel glowed with a crimson magical aura, an eerie contrast to Jaime's cool, blue-hued sword. The watching nobles instantly recognized which blade held the greater power.
The Bloodskal Blade buzzed through the air, spinning twice before embedding itself into the muddy ground in front of Jaime.
"The sword in your hands is my creation; I know it better than anyone. Try using this sword of mine, you should have heard of its abilities. Don't force it, and don't wield it two-handed when you're low on strength," Wright smiled, unarmed.
"This sword has cut through a dragon's scales in Meereen!"
"The blood-red sword aura, they say, can only be unleashed once by an ordinary person!"
To a knight, a fine weapon was more important than a wife. Legendary weapons came with their own tales, and the surrounding people began to murmur.
Jaime, seeing Wright unarmed, threw his Sun's Maiden sword to Wright before bending down to draw the greatsword.
After grasping the sword, the red magical glow still lingered. Jaime, realizing he hadn't been injured, began to stroke the blade. "It's heavy, and the blade isn't very sharp."
Jaime started to reconsider. The sword in his hand wasn't as sharp as he had imagined. The ability to cut through a dragon's scales seemed to come from magic. Wright wielded such a heavy sword like it was a one-handed weapon, showing that his physical prowess far surpassed Jaime's. To duel with Wright, brute force wouldn't work—he would have to rely on technique.
"Jaime, you've got this!"
"Don't be afraid, Jaime! I've brought healing potions!"
The ladies of the Westerlands became excited and pushed past the men to stand in the front, cheering for Jaime.
Wright smiled upon seeing this. So many female knights had come from the Westerlands just for Jaime. The heir to the Westerlands, in his prime, handsome, a nationally famous knight, and recently widowed—what more could a woman want? Now, Westerlands men loved gold dragons, and the women loved Jaime.
With so many ladies around, Wright decided to give Jaime some face.
"ROAR!" Wright shouted after donning his helmet.
A layer of ice armor formed around his Dragonbone Battle Armor, and Iron Armor was activated. Magic flowed into his Sun's Maiden sword, causing the pale blue blade to glow with dragon runes. White frost emanated from the blade, freezing the earth beneath him and extending outward, rapidly turning the soil to ice.
This blue Valyrian steel sword, enchanted by Wright, carried a dual enchantment: purification and frost.
"Jaime, take note. This is how you use the Sun's Maiden ."
Wright raised his left hand, and a giant ice shield materialized from his palm.
Facing the sword energy of his own Bloodskal Blade, Wright could only take the blow head-on. Not to mention the nobles watching from behind, if he dodged against someone like Jaime, who lacked magic, it would be considered a loss for him.
Jaime also assumed his stance. "What happens if I force a swing when I run out of stamina?"
Wright replied, "Blood converts into Magicka, and it will drain your blood dry."
"My brother wrote to me, saying he was illegally employed by you?" Jaime spoke while shifting his stance, aiming to find a weakness in Wright's defense. He was skilled at messing with his opponent's mental state before a fight.
"Illegal employment? I paid him quite well—enough for him to waste for ten years!" Wright wasn't falling for it, raising his shield to protect himself.
"Well then..." Jaime said mid-sentence, raising his sword with both hands and suddenly slashing, sending a wave of sword energy at Wright.