Wizard Lord of Westeros

Lannisport

POV of Domeric Bolton

"How much gold do you want for this?" Tywin asked as he looked at the beautiful sword in his hands as they sat inside a large tent outside the Tourney Grounds.

It only took a mild legilimency probe to find out that Tywin was totally spellbound by the sword and wanted it at all costs.

But then again, he had pumped Tywin Lannister with compulsion charms, so it was no surprise that the lord wanted the blade for himself desperately.

Not to mention the fact that he had crafted the pummel himself with transfiguration, and it looked very much like a real lion head.

There was no way that Tywin wouldn't have liked the sword even if he didn't use any compulsion charms, but by using them, he made sure that he would get what he wanted from Tywin Lannister.

"I don't want any gold for the sword." He replied with a smile.

Tywin frowned a little at that and turned to look at him sternly. "What do you want then? Lands. Title. A keep of your own. A marriage with a Lannister."

At that moment, he was sure that Tywin would have even given him the hand of his granddaughter Princess Myrcella if he asked for it.

But he didn't want to be betrothed to someone at such a young age. Especially the princess of the kingdom when he planned to separate himself from the kingdom in the future.

"No. I don't want any land, title, or something else. But workforce."

"Workforce?" Tywin asked.

"Yes. Miners, Literate men who know how to read and write, blacksmiths, men who know how to fight and can teach it to others, craftsmen and builders. People like those."

Tywin gave him a long, hard look as if he couldn't believe what he just heard before he composed himself and asked, "How many of these people do you want?"

"These many." He said and passed on a slip of parchment to the old lion that was filled with the occupation and number of people that he wanted.

Tywin carefully read through the entire letter before he gave him a nod and said, "Done."

"Done?"

"Yes."

He opened his mouth to say something before wondering if he kept the numbers too low.

He took the page back from the old lion, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

He then slowly pointed his Holly wand at the page and doubled the number of men in each occupation before he pointed it at Tywin and said, "Obliviate."

Tywin's eyes glazed over for a moment before they returned to their normal color and settled on him as he asked, "Where were we again?"

"These are the number of men that I want." He said and passed on the list to Tywin, who looked at it with a slight frown before he shook his head.

"I'm afraid I can't provide you with these many blacksmiths. If I did, then Lannisport will have a shortage of them in the near future. The same could be said for shipbuilders. I cannot give you these many of them as we'll need them in order to rebuild the Fleet that we lost to the Ironborn."

He gave a nod to the old man and found out that he was telling the truth with a slight legilimency probe.

Oh well, it was negotiation time then.

By the end of the negotiation, he had gained more men than he had wanted at the start of his meeting. 1,500 miners. 25 literate men who could read and write, six blacksmiths and 10 apprentice blacksmiths, two old maesters, 50 architect builders, 500 ship builders, 1000 of the best horses in Westerlands, 10 ships for transport, and 100,000 gold dragons.

All in all, it was as good a deal as he was going to get for a Valyrian sword that he didn't need.

After the deal was done, he delegated the transportation job to his men and returned to his cabin at the ship before portkeyed himself to Dreadfort.

He had a feeling that his Deathly Hallows tattoo was nearly full again, and he wanted to speed up the process as much as he could.

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Dreadfort Castle

POV of Domeric Bolton

A few hours later.

Domeric was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the Heart Tree in the Godwoods. He realized that with meditation, he could speed up the magic absorbing speed of his tattoo, the Symbol of Deathly Hallows, on the back of his hand.

The magic absorbing speed of his tattoo was double compared to normal times at the moment. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

After a while, he opened his eyes when he felt that burning pain coming from his tattoo. And as expected, when he looked at his hand, he saw that his black and red tattoo was becoming golden again.

This time, he decided to do some experiments before going into that endless void. He took two pebbles from the ground. He put one of them on his shoulder and threw the other one into the air. 

After that, he sent his magic to his tattoo. And just like the last time, for a moment, everything went black before his vision came back. He was in the space of endless void again.

But this time, before even he had a chance to look around, some information flowed into his mind. It was a piece of information about his tattoo and the reason for his soul coming into this world. And some things finally cleared for Domeric.

According to this info, he was someone who was chosen by Death. He was one of many 'Champions of Death' that all around the multiverse. As a chosen one, he had some responsibilities and missions. His main mission was to save his world from destruction by killing Voldemort.

At this point, Domeric or Harry was really angry.

He lost his parents when he was a baby.

He was abused while he was growing up.

He found himself in countless near-death situations.

He fought in a bloody war.

He killed people even if he didn't want to when he was just a teenager.

He betrayed.

He became numb and finally broken. So, he took his life by walking into the Veil.

What was it all for? Because he was chosen by Death? Why him? Why not anyone else?

At this point, Harry really wanted to smash some things, but there was nothing in this place to smash.

While Harry was throwing a tantrum about his past life, the info continued to flow into his mind.

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