Skyrim System In Westeros

When Wright prepared to leave the underground hall, he found that the exit had been blocked by a heavy stone door, and the water level in the hall was rising.

He touched the stone door with his hand and kicked it, only managing to break off a few small fragments.

"It's very sturdy. Although I could easily destroy this door with my strength, this is underground. If I use too much force, I might cause the entire cave to collapse."

The design of this sanctuary was somewhat unique. The water in the channels of the hall gave the illusion that it was at sea level, but in reality, the entire hall was situated below the surface of the sea.

The two priests outside the House of Black and White had already met and realized they had encountered a formidable opponent. Wright had entered the sanctuary and killed all the remaining Priest and assassins. He was a true mage, more powerful than anyone in the House of Black and White. They were no longer capable of assassinating him, and if they failed, their thousand-year legacy would be destroyed by their generation.

They decided to sacrifice themselves — one would go in first to hold Wright off, and the other would follow to activate the sanctuary's mechanism, flooding it with seawater and trapping Wright inside. Once the water was drained, the sanctuary would be restored.

The priests' plan to end the assassination was genuine. The servants who had fled were merely caretakers, responsible for maintaining daily life and receiving local followers. The ones involved in the assassination were only the priests and assassins. With the destruction of the roster and the death of everyone who knew about Wright's assassination, the mission was considered finished.

"I knew it! No one willingly sacrifices themselves like this! They want to end the assassination without betraying their faith, but in the end, they're just trying to delay and trap me!"

Wright stepped into the rising seawater, now at his ankles, and walked to the idol at the center of the sanctuary.

"Even at the brink of death, they still want to play tricks on me. I'll make sure to do something about it!"

Flames erupted from his hands, and in a few seconds, the fire engulfed the books in front of the idol, turning them to black ash. Before the books were completely consumed, Wright noticed one book detailing the God of Death. The last page bore a signature.

"Someone who could write faith scriptures and pass them on to followers must have a high status."

Wright then picked up Dark Sisters, intending to carve something on the idol's base. The idol was humanoid, and Wright's carving skills weren't sufficient to carve on its curved surface, so he chose the square base instead.

"Wright Baratheon was here!"

The words were carved in Chinese. If they couldn't understand, so be it — let them figure it out. The seawater had already risen past Wright's waist, submerging the statue's base. With no way to leave more marks, he felt slightly regretful.

The masks of human faces adorning the sanctuary's walls floated up with the rising water, along with the delirious assassin, who drifted on the surface, muttering incoherently. All the candles had been extinguished.

Wright remained unhurried. Holding up a magical light, he began searching for the source of the flooding. Before long, he found four large water inlets at the corners of the hall. Each was over a person's height and hidden in shadow, even when candles were lit. The complex and twisted passages inside ensured they went unnoticed in normal circumstances.

He walked to the corpses of the assassins, picked up their weapons, and tucked them into his belt. The seawater had now reached his chin, but Wright remained patient.

The priests' plan was meticulous. Any ordinary person or typical mage would undoubtedly meet their end here.

However, within Wright's magical arsenal was a spell designed precisely for such situations. Calmly, he activated it.

A pure white light of Alteration magic illuminated the hall. The intermediate spell Waterbreathing began to take effect.

Equipped with the weapons at his waist to weigh himself down, Wright sank to the bottom and slowly walked toward one of the water inlets. The current was too strong for now, so he decided to wait until the chamber was fully flooded. Then he would exit through the inlet.

Around the island where the House of Black and White stood, several whirlpools appeared on the sea's surface, only to vanish moments later.

This area belonged to the Sanctuary Isles, where various deities were worshipped on small islands. Devotees typically traversed the bridges, as arriving by boat was considered disrespectful to the gods. The House of Black and White was particularly desolate — worshippers of the God of Death were scarce. Thus, no one noticed the whirlpools before they disappeared.

On the rocky shore of the island, a black-haired head emerged from the water. Slowly, Wright's chest surfaced, and he began walking step by step out of the sea.

"Waterbreathing drains too much energy. Unless absolutely necessary, I should use it sparingly. And this seawater stinks."

Braavos, constructed like Venice, consisted of countless islands connected by bridges. Boats could dock at the doorsteps of houses, while sewage was conveniently dumped directly into the sea. Ocean currents gradually carried the waste away, and sea creatures feasted on it. But Wright was no sea creature; he was human, and now he stank.

Initially, he considered using fire magic to dry himself off, but the odor amplified exponentially. Hastily, he switched to ice magic, freezing the water clinging to his clothes and then using Dark Sisters to chip away the ice.

Despite his efforts, the stench lingered. Exiting the sanctuary district, he immediately hired a boat to take him to the Sealord's Palace. He had no intention of parading his foul smell through the streets.

---

Meanwhile, the assassin Wright had driven to madness in the underground hall was remarkably fortunate — and resilient. Floating along with the rising seawater, he drifted to the entrance of a secret passageway dug into the ceiling by another assassin. Miraculously, he survived.

The Assassin's waist throbbed with searing pain as the icy spear impaled him. Struggling, he crawled out of the passage, driven by a single belief: escape. Flee the House of Black and White. Flee from Wright Baratheon. The farther, the better.

He painfully made his way to a Moonsinger priest he knew to seek treatment. But before he could fully recover, with only rudimentary bandaging and salve applied to his wounds, he left.

By the time he reached the Ragman's Harbor of Braavos, he had already altered his appearance. His face was disguised, and he avoided using the House of Black and White's distinctive coinage. Instead, he paid his fare as a common traveler with ordinary currency.

The torment of his soul and the agony of his wounds left him weak and hobbling. Limping, he boarded the ship and settled into its cabin.

The captain tossed him a bottle of pitch-black rum. "Cripple! What's your name?"

The assassin uncorked the bottle, took a deep swig, and let out a long sigh, seemingly finding some relief.

Now, his hair was half red, half white, with a prominent hooked nose and a scar across his face. The strange look marked him as someone unsavory at a glance. However, the captain, accustomed to plying the dangerous routes to Westeros, had seen his share of fearsome folk. His inquiry was a test, a way to gauge whether the man's accent and demeanor might betray him as a pirate spy.

"I'm just a homeless man," the assassin replied. "Fear still grips my heart. I've long forgotten my name."

The captain sized him up. "You don't look like a lowborn, but that wound on your waist is no small thing."

At the mention of his injury, the assassin's entire body shuddered. Memories of Wright's torment flashed through his mind, and his hands trembled involuntarily.

The captain noted this reaction but continued nonchalantly, "I've got some special medicine. I'll give you a bit later — I'd rather you not die before we reach Westeros."

The assassin grinned at him, flashing a golden tooth. "Much obliged, Captain. There's one name I've always liked. You can call me Jaqen. Jaqen H'ghar."

---

If you can, support me on pa treon:

Pa treon. com/ RightTranslations (No spaces)

Up to 50 chapters ahead on the four novels i am translating.