Skyrim System In Westeros

Wright stepped into the main hall. The floor was littered with shards of the shattered doors, but the vast space was eerily empty.

The House of Black and White, being an assassin's guild, wouldn't confront him directly.

At the center of the hall was a pool of water, surrounded by thirty statues of various deities. Red candles flickered at the base of each figure, casting faint, uneven light.

Even with over thirty candles lit, the hall remained dim and hauntingly quiet.

Surveying the surroundings, Wright noted that the statues were all stylized in the Braavosi manner, making them unrecognizable to him. The walls were lined with small compartments for offerings left by worshippers. Kneeling, he placed his hand on the cold stone floor and released a wave of magical detection.

"They're all hiding underground," he muttered.

After exploring for a moment, he found an entrance concealed behind one of the statues. A faint draft of air flowed from the opening, confirming it was only one of several access points. Drawing the Dark Sister, he extinguished the magical orbs that floated behind him.

"In these narrow tunnels, magic could backfire and injure me," he reasoned.

Casting an invisibility spell on himself, he crouched into a stealth stance and cautiously entered the passage.

The small island hosting the House of Black and White was entirely hewn from stone. Beyond its visible structure, the interior of the island was riddled with countless tunnels. Wright's magical sense revealed energy signatures at three distinct depths, indicating that the underground complex extended at least three levels deep.

The tunnel he entered was roughly two meters high and wide. Its walls bore the marks of chisels, evidence of crude excavation. At regular intervals, empty candle holders jutted from the rock. The extinguished candles left the entire passage in total darkness, where even a hand before one's face would be invisible.

Every so often, Wright illuminated his path briefly with a flash of candlelight, then quickly extinguished it to avoid detection. Where candleholders were present, he reignited the candles with a quick Fire Magic spell.

At each junction, he used the Dark Sister to carve a small circle into the walls of the viable exits, ensuring he could find his way back if needed.

Wright encountered several rudimentary traps along the way, including tripwires that triggered crossbow bolts from the walls and false floor panels concealing spikes below. These traps clearly weren't permanently set up; they must have been hastily prepared for him.

Using his stealth skills, particularly Lightfoot, he avoided triggering the pressure plates. The faint light from the occasional candleholder also allowed him to notice and step over the tripwires.

Following the draft of air, he soon found a descending staircase. At the bottom, the passage widened, and the walls were lined with small alcoves. Each alcove contained a desiccated corpse, their mummified remains lying undisturbed.

"This looks oddly familiar," Wright mused. "They must have borrowed this burial style from Valyria." The scene reminded him of the ancient tombs from The Elder Scrolls, nearly identical in atmosphere.

At the end of the corridor stood an iron door. Its simple lock posed no challenge — he used alteration magic to mimic the shape of a key and turned it effortlessly.

Casting Silence on the door, he pushed it open without a sound and slipped through.

The space beyond was a carved-out hall filled with simple beds, likely a living quarters for the inhabitants.

On one side of the hall, four individuals were deep in conversation. Wright crept behind a cabinet to eavesdrop.

"The attempt on Wright Baratheon's life failed. The assassin we sent is dead, and he's already entered the House of Black and White."

"There aren't many assassins left in Braavos right now. We'll need to wait for others to finish their current contracts before we can send them after Wright again."

"From what I observed yesterday, Wright is a true magic user. He even uses stealth skills similar to ours."

"I've already sent a message. They'll return through the secret passageways."

"The servants have already evacuated through the tunnels."

The conversation was in Braavosi-accented Valyrian. Wright understood enough to gather that the unrelated personnel had fled, leaving only those in charge.

Emerging from behind the cabinet, he struck without hesitation. His stealth skills amplified the lethality of his attack, and Dark Sister cleaved through two of them with ease, slicing their bodies into four parts.

He then used Magic Throat Lock to grab one by the neck, holding him in the air while pointing his blade at another.

"You should know who I am. Who hired you to assassinate me?"

The man, dressed in priestly robes, did not answer. "From the moment we became servants of the Many-Faced God, we accepted death as inevitable."

Wright decapitated him with a single stroke, then increased the magical pressure on the other's throat until it snapped.

He glanced at the corpse, its lifeless eyes glaring at him in defiance. "Fanatics," he muttered. "Asking is pointless. I'll find the answers deeper below."

Unlike the maze-like tunnels of the first level, the second layer was more straightforward, consisting of a few connected halls. The furnishings were crude, clearly meant for the servants, who had no combat abilities and had already fled through the secret passages.

The third level was next. Concentrated magical signatures — seven or eight of them — awaited below. Wright decided stealth was unnecessary now.

He cast two spells on himself: Ironflesh, to bolster his defenses, and Flame Cloak, engulfing his body in fire that illuminated the cavern. The flames also coated Dark Sister, which, being forged of Valyrian steel, would not melt like ordinary blades.

With the Dragon Aspect active and three layers of defensive magic, he was confident even a direct assault from these assassins would leave him with little more than a scratch.

In the second subterranean layer, Wright discovered another concealed entrance behind a statue. This one bore the familiar emblem of a black and white moon. Without hesitation, he kicked the door open, revealing yet another stone staircase spiraling downward.

Descending into the third level, he found himself in the grandest hall yet — larger even than the structures above ground. The cavernous space had been meticulously converted into an underground sanctum. Sparse candlelight left much of the room shrouded in darkness, enhancing its foreboding atmosphere.

The walls were lined with countless small compartments, each containing a face-shaped mask. A testament to the organization's millennia-long existence, there were likely thousands of masks stored here, each marking a life taken or a servant of the Many-Faced God.

The floor was crisscrossed with drainage channels through which water flowed sluggishly, suggesting the hall was at sea level. At its center stood a massive idol, a towering representation of the Many-Faced God, surrounded by various books and tomes.

Wright sensed magical presences darting around him, their positions shifting rapidly. He ignored them for the moment and instead approached the books, casually flipping through the pages and reading aloud.

"An introduction to the Many-Faced God. Boring."

He picked up another, its black cover bound in human skin.

"A journal… detailing an assassination of a Magister of Myr. Interesting choice of material."

As he read, one of the assassins took the opportunity to strike. With incredible speed and silence, the attacker leaped toward Wright, wielding a longsword aimed at his neck.

Wright intercepted the blade effortlessly with Dark Sister, redirecting it before placing his own blade at the assassin's throat.

"Didn't anyone tell you the last assassin died the same way?" he remarked, voice calm but laced with menace.

The assassin, undeterred, spat back, "All men must die!" before attempting to spit a noxious substance at Wright.

Wright sidestepped the attack, the corrosive spit sizzling as it struck the floor.

Without hesitation, he conjured multiple Light Orbs, sending them to cling to the walls around the hall. The orbs bathed the chamber in bright, magical light, eliminating every shadow and revealing his would-be attackers.

"Did anyone also tell you," he said, his voice reverberating through the now-illuminated hall, "that I am no mere men?"