Game of Thrones: King of Magic

Solomon. Braavos.

The Artist waited patiently for my answer while I considered what to do about the situation. Her gaze was cold and calculating, the maids looked like puppets, and the sounds from below were muffled, making the atmosphere in the room heavier with every passing second.

To be honest, I really don't know what to do. I have no idea what, how or why, and so the only available solution would be sincerity. Yes, I can always settle the matter by force, and they, like the rest of the inhabitants of this world, have nothing to counter it, but there's no point or need for that.

If every misunderstanding in the world is solved by force, it will burn in the blink of an eye. It is far easier and more reliable to act for certain for each side, and not everyone is willing to go to a trivial conversation to resolve it. It's not pride that prevents them, not at all, but the threat to their own safety.

In this situation, if I were indeed the murderer, Artist's actions would be very reasonable. Judging by her tone and wording, her mother has already made several attempts, and the woman in front of me simply has no choice but to do just that.

However, that does not change the fact that I am the injured party. Ultimately, I'm left to just go with the flow and see what happens. At the very least, there's always the option of a show of force, as shown by the Artist through her maids.

- You know, Mistress Artist, even if you don't want to believe my words, there really is a misunderstanding between us. I don't know who exactly is your mother and what the circumstances between you two are. Assuming? Yes, that's true, but are you sure? Certainly not," I said in a calm and confident tone, looking her straight in the eye, "And that's why I propose to clarify the situation as much as possible. You said yourself that you consider me a dangerous and powerful sorcerer, and that if I were really a murderer, I would have acted beforehand. That seems reasonable, doesn't it?

The answer to my logically correct one was only silence and a look full of absolute certainty that I was trying to play innocent. The artist didn't believe me one bit and was still waiting for the obvious answer.

- So we can't come to an understanding, Mrs. Artist?

- Not until you confess and name your price, Mr. Solomon.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

This is not the way to move forward. The sincerity of my words simply won't reach her mind, which means... I'll have to prove it by force.

- Do you think, Mistress Artist, is offering me power or gold enough to hire me as a simple assassin? The Red Temple and the Black and White House will gladly provide both if you just ask. Even if my stay in this city is far from long, everyone knows how much authority I hold.

- Then--

- And magic? - I tilted my head and tapped the armrest twice with my index finger.

The next moment, a wave of power spread from my body like a giant tsunami. An unrestrained wind came up, scattering food and objects and furnishings. The fabric that was attached to the ceiling and windows fluttered as if trying to break free and run as far away as possible. The clear sky outside was replaced in the blink of an eye by black clouds that formed rings and gathered over the tavern where I was.

The three maids behind Artist's back were practically blown out of their seats and gently pressed against the walls of the building. Their clothes clung tightly to their bodies, their knives embedded in stone to the hilt with no way of getting them back.

Their mistress, on the other hand, opened her eyes and mouth wide, revealing greatly dilated pupils and white teeth. Her entire body shuddered from the pressure and shaking as the couch she was sitting on slid across the floor and hit the display case, collapsing the painting supplies. Brushes flew in different directions, paint splattered across furniture, walls, and floor, and canvases and parchments opened up, wrapping themselves around the first objects in their path.

And in this storm of wind and magic, I, the only one unaffected by what was happening, could clearly hear the rhythm of the Artist's heart, like the sound of a hammer hitting an anvil. Fast, strong, and loud. I could see the beaches of stunned shock in her eyes, yet they retained a determination and steely will that burned brightly enough to resemble the afternoon sun.

There was no fear in them, no despair or uncertainty. The artist looked me straight in the eye, as if she didn't notice the mess around us. Her delicate fingers clenched into fists, her eyes sharpened, and her teeth clenched. The trembling of her body slowly faded, bowing to the steely will of the Artist to show no fear of her opponent.

I examined the woman in front of me and nodded to myself in surprise.

She is strong. Not physically, but mentally. So much so that even something like this didn't cause a bit of fear in her eyes. It was as if the artist was an Atlantean who could not be broken by the weight of the firmament. And that's impressive. Very impressive.

- Do you really think the promise of magic can seduce me?

Her gaze lingered on me for a few seconds, then began to run around as if looking for something. It stopped on her special brush that was currently two steps away from her. Her body then abruptly filled with mana, creating an effect similar to 'Strengthening', and rushed towards the brush.

Picking it up on the run, the Artist tore towards me, taking the brush in a reverse grip as if it were a dagger, and aimed for my throat. She used her free hand to cover her face, apparently to protect herself in case of an attack.

The Artist moved, as far as I was concerned, slowly but deftly, maneuvering and keeping her eyes on me. Her gaze was filled with killing intent, and her icy expression became completely impenetrable. And when she almost reached me, still unmoving, I propped my head up with my fist and snapped the fingers of my free hand.

In the next second, green vines burst out of the floor of the third floor and braided the girl's body, then tied her to the ground, forcing her to drop the brush. Seeing the condition of their mistress, as well as the inability to retrieve the daggers from the wall, the maids with worried expressions on their faces tried to resist the wind and magic to regain their fighting ability. However, they failed, and in the end, all four girls were completely immobilized.

- Your actions are... interesting," I said calmly, bringing the magic back into my body and looking at the disgruntled and angry face of the Artist, whose icy mask shattered under the onslaught of circumstances. The servant girls were also bound by vines, securing them to the wall. The fabrics that had been developed by the wind returned to a calm state, objects stopped moving, and a circle was formed with me as the center, where, except for the empty floor, it was as if there had never been anything - Why attack me if the result was obvious?

I didn't get an answer. Her intense gaze drilled through me, and it seemed to me that if it could kill me, I would be dead. The girl's whole look was like an enraged she-wolf, growling and baring her fangs menacingly. And she was definitely not happy with what was happening.

Now I could see her true face, filled with genuine emotions and feelings. Gone was the emotionless doll, giving way to a determined, desperate and strong girl ready for seemingly insane things. She doesn't want to lose, doesn't want to show her weakness, but to achieve her goal, whatever it takes. Very impressive.

And deep inside me, I felt something. Something strange and appealing, like a breath of clean water in a vast desert... I want to know what she's been through... I want to hear what she has to say at the end of this stretch of her journey... I want to see what she'll grow up to be....

Standing up from the chair, I leaned over to the bound Artist and reached out to touch her face. The response to this action was a bite that managed to damage her skin and make it bleed. The Artist's jaws clenched tightly on my hand, trying to bite it off, and all the while her gaze never left mine, as if to declare that she would not lose or bow to me.

- You're very strong," I began and put my hand on her cheek, ignoring the pain in the still jawed limb, "I'm genuinely impressed with you and find you to be an amazing girl. This is the first time I've met someone like you, and I don't think I'll ever meet anyone like you again. You-

- Enough! - The Artist shouted, letting go of my hand and spitting blood in my face- I don't need your empty flattery, you lying bastard! Just finish the job, and kill me! My pride won't bend to your pathetic words!

- Why would I kill you if there was no point? - Tilting my head and wiping away the blood with my hand, I asked - Why would I kill an interesting girl like you, Lavena Satrion.

- What... How... - she froze, and then her displeasure turned to pure rage - Don't you dare speak my name with your lying mouth!

- And since you've already given up your life, why don't I take it for myself?

- Huh?

I touched her forehead with my finger, and a second later, her entire body was covered with a tattoo that flashed with golden light and then slowly disappeared, leaving the girl's pure skin as if it had always been like this.

- What have you done to me!

- You belong to me now, Mistress Lavena," I said, at which her face twisted in disgust, "Of course, it's not forever. One day I will give you your freedom back, but only when you become "free" and ask for it.

- "Free"?! What are you talking about?! My "mother" told you to do that, didn't she?!

- Right now, I see in front of me a child with parental problems. You live your life solely to hurt your mother, because if you didn't, you'd send the killers yourself. You are strong, but at the same time you are empty and constrained, - I said calmly and raised my free hand up, putting up three fingers - We can't continue this conversation now, so we'll do it when you wake up. When your thoughts are clear and not clouded by your mother's revenge.

- You...!

A snap of fingers rang through the room, causing the Artist and her maids to faint. There was dead silence in the room, interrupted by conversations from the first floor of the building. The closed field I'd placed before releasing the magic from my body didn't let anything out, so no one knew anything, except for the change in the weather, of course.

I estimated that they would be unconscious for about an hour, and so, after another snap of my fingers, it was as if the room was returning to its original state in flashback. Objects returned to their places, furniture took the same places it should occupy, paint from the floor collected back into its cans, leaving behind the cleanliness. The maids' daggers returned to their sheaths on their hips, and the holes in the walls disappeared.

I, on the other hand, straightened up and began to walk around the room, looking at the available paintings to kill time.

Hopefully, when they wake up, we'll be able to have a proper conversation.

-0-

Sansa Stark. The Kingsroad.

The days flew by one by one, and the caravan continued to move along the Kingsroad. Every now and then we stopped at small taverns or just at the request of the royal family, but then we continued on to the Moat of Cailin.

There were no particular changes, and all the people I knew were doing about the same as usual. Father is still busy with the king, Arya, Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella are spending time together, Fou is stealing food, and Prince Joffrey continues his aimless walks just to show his "importance".

Now I was sitting in the tent assigned to the Starks, contemplating what to do while they set up camp outside for the night.

Since that conversation with Lord Tyrion, information gathering had been very reluctant. I'd been able to gather only bits and pieces of what I needed, playing the nosy young lady, but I hadn't been able to find out much. Just a couple of names, that's all.

The most notable thing I heard was the presence of the Queen of Spikes, Olenna Tyrell, in King's Landing. Her fame precedes her, and I may have to avoid contact with her until better times. If Lord Tyrion could see my game, all the more so can she. In addition to her of the Tyrrells, her granddaughter, Margaery Tyrell, is also there. As described to me, a beautiful, caring and intelligent lady that helps the people of the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. Given her grandmother, I will have to avoid her as well, or keep contact to a minimum if I want to be prepared for anything.

I sighed tiredly and stroked the Lady lying at my feet.

Either way, whatever you do, you'll have to wait. I just don't have the opportunity to prepare in any way. Unless something special happens, of course....

The next moment, the entrance to the tent opened, revealing one of Winterfell's men, with Golden cloak standing behind him.

- Lady Sansa," the first greeted me and bowed, "a message has come for you.

- A message? - I asked, to which he nodded and looked at Golden cloak, who stepped forward and repeated the first man's actions.

- The Queen wishes to see you, Lady Sansa. I am here to escort you to her.

Hearing his words, my eyes widened in surprise, and then I grinned to myself.

What was it Lord Solomon used to say? "Murphy's Law, huh?

-0-

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