Chapter 213: Continuing the Investigation
As Bran imagined what would happen if Jon's true identity were revealed to the world, a faint sense of satisfaction stirred within him.
A small taste of revenge.
But the feeling vanished almost instantly.
His expression froze.
Yes, Jon was the rightful first heir to the Iron Throne.
But so what?
Even if Daenerys were forced to step aside...
Would Drogon allow it?
Even if every noble in the Seven Kingdoms abandoned Daenerys and declared for Jon, would the Black Dragon accept that outcome?
The answer was obvious.
No.
Without getting past Drogon, even if Rhaegar himself rose from the grave, he would never take the Iron Throne away from Daenerys.
Bran felt a crushing sense of frustration.
All the excitement from uncovering the secret drained away.
For the first time, he even wondered whether revealing the truth to Jon might get both of them killed.
If Drogon viewed them as threats...
Would he simply silence them forever?
The thought sent a chill through him.
Closing his eyes, Bran leaned back in his chair.
His shoulders slumped.
Perhaps he was the most miserable Three-Eyed Raven in history.
He had uncovered one of the greatest secrets in Westeros.
Yet he didn't even dare speak of it.
At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to leave King's Landing and return to the North.
His original plan had been to stay after Daenerys's coronation and persuade her to allow more weirwoods to be planted in the southern kingdoms.
But now?
Now that he knew Jon's true identity, he felt he couldn't remain here any longer.
Being around Drogon every day made him increasingly uneasy.
The feeling was difficult to explain.
Perhaps it was detrimental to his training as a greenseer.
Perhaps it was simple fear.
Whatever the reason, one thought dominated his mind:
He needed to leave King's Landing as soon as possible.
Back at the Red Keep, Drogon informed Daenerys about Shireen's condition.
Learning that Sam had found a cure filled her with relief and happiness.
She had always been fond of the brave little princess.
After updating Daenerys, Drogon headed straight for Marwyn's quarters.
A knock sounded.
When Marwyn opened the door and saw Drogon there alone, he blinked in surprise.
His eyes immediately searched the hallway behind him.
No Daenerys.
No attendants.
Just Drogon.
Only then did he realize the dragon had come specifically to see him.
Drogon flew into the room without ceremony.
Finding paper and ink on the desk, he pulled them toward himself and began writing.
Marwyn stared in fascination.
Even though he already knew Drogon was a dragon who had defeated gods, watching him calmly grip a pen with his claws and write still felt surreal.
A moment later, Drogon pushed the parchment forward.
I heard there are many black stones in Asshai. What are your thoughts on them?
Marwyn's eyes narrowed.
He hadn't expected the mysterious Black Stone to attract Drogon's attention.
As someone who had devoted much of his life to studying magic and the occult, Marwyn had naturally researched Black Stone extensively.
Yet the moment Drogon brought it up, an inexplicable sense of foreboding crept into his heart.
After a brief pause, he answered.
"Every building in Asshai is made from Black Stone."
"The material is... strange."
"The longer you stare at it, the easier it becomes to lose yourself in it."
His words immediately reminded Drogon of the Black Walls of Volantis.
The same oppressive feeling.
The same eerie allure.
Without another word, Drogon wrote again.
Tell me everything you know about Asshai and the Black Stone.
Marwyn stared at the sentence for a moment.
Then he slowly sat down.
The expression on his face grew serious.
Whatever this conversation led to, he suspected it would touch upon mysteries far older than dragons, kingdoms, or even the gods themselves.
For a moment, he seemed lost in thought—or perhaps troubled by old memories.
After a long silence, he slowly began recounting what he had witnessed during his years in Asshai.
Asshai lay at the eastern edge of the known world.
Beyond it stretched the mysterious Shadow Lands, a place few had ever seen and fewer still understood.
The city was often called the City Stained by Shadow.
Not merely because its buildings were fashioned from black stone, but because every aspect of the city carried an unsettling sense of wrongness.
Asshai was enormous.
Its territory covered an area nearly four times the size of King's Landing.
Yet its population was astonishingly small.
The native inhabitants numbered no more than those of an ordinary town.
The land surrounding the city was barren and infertile.
Nothing could be cultivated there.
A river known as the Ash River flowed through the city.
Its waters were as dark as black stone itself.
They were undrinkable.
Even the fish that swam within it were grotesque creatures—twisted, vicious things known to attack and devour humans.
The people of Asshai survived entirely on food and fresh water brought by merchant caravans.
Fortunately, the region was rich in precious gems and gold, ensuring a steady stream of traders despite its grim reputation.
Some even claimed that Asshai's gems and gold carried the same curse as its people, bringing misfortune to anyone who possessed them.
The people of Asshai were equally strange.
They never revealed their true faces.
Some wore carved wooden masks.
Others hid behind veils.
According to rumor, they removed these coverings only in the dead of night, when no light whatsoever remained.
And almost every one of them practiced sorcery.
Asshai was known throughout the world as the City of Magic.
Warlocks, alchemists, necromancers, red priests, moon-singers, pyromancers, shadowbinders—
Practitioners of every forbidden art eventually found their way there.
Within Asshai, they could perform blood sacrifices, conduct experiments on living subjects, and pursue any manner of dark or forbidden knowledge.
There were no taboos.
No laws.
No boundaries.
It was a place where madness and mystery thrived unchecked.
Then Marwyn paused.
"There is one more thing worth mentioning."
"There are no animals in Asshai."
"And there are no children."
The mention of children immediately caught Drogon's attention.
His thoughts drifted to Craster and the sons he had sacrificed to the Night King.
If there were no children in Asshai...
Then where had they all gone?
"Do the people of Asshai worship any gods?" Drogon wrote.
Marwyn nodded.
"Only a small number follow the Lord of Light."
"The majority worship the Black Stone itself."
"They treat it as a divine entity, though I've never heard—"
His voice suddenly stopped.
Marwyn stared at Drogon.
A look of shock spread across his face.
"Wait..."
"Are you suggesting the Black Stone itself might be a god?"
Marwyn had immediately grasped the implication.
The source of magic.
According to every conclusion he had reached through decades of study, only two groups could wield magic:
Followers blessed by gods.
And descendants of the Dragonlords.
If Asshai's people drew power through worship of the Black Stone...
Then logically, the Black Stone itself might truly be a divine being.
"Is faith in a god really necessary to use magic?" Marwyn asked eagerly.
He wanted confirmation.
For years, he had suspected this connection but lacked proof.
Drogon understood exactly what Marwyn was seeking.
Though the maester knew no magic himself, he had spent his life studying it.
And his conclusions had come remarkably close to the truth.
Ordinarily, Drogon wouldn't answer such a question.
Knowledge concerning gods was not something meant for ordinary mortals.
Yet after hearing so much from Marwyn, refusing to answer felt unreasonable.
After a brief pause, he simply nodded.
The confirmation hit Marwyn like a thunderbolt.
His eyes lit up instantly.
Years of speculation had finally been validated.
Seeing Drogon's interest in the Black Stone, he continued.
"There are three major theories regarding the origin of Asshai."
"The first claims Asshai was built by the Bloodstone Emperor of the ancient Yi Ti Empire."
"According to the legends, he became obsessed with a sticky black stone that fell from the heavens."
"He eventually used that stone to construct the great city of Asshai."
"The second theory claims Asshai was built by creatures known as the Deep Ones."
"Hybrid beings with human bodies and fish-like heads."
"The final theory suggests that Asshai was originally built from ordinary stone."
"But for reasons unknown, it later became corrupted and transformed into what it is today."
Hearing the name Deep Ones once again, Drogon couldn't help growing suspicious.
The mysterious race appeared far too often in stories connected to Black Stone.
After learning his lesson from the Night King's remains, he no longer dismissed legends, speculation, or ancient myths.
Sometimes the most unbelievable stories concealed fragments of truth.
As for the Empire of Yi Ti, Drogon had encountered references to it while reading in the Citadel.
It was older than any kingdom or civilization known in Westeros.
Its history stretched so far into the past that even recorded history struggled to contain it.
Many called it the Great Empire of the Dawn.
According to legend, its wealth and power had surpassed even Valyria at the height of its glory.
Drogon scribbled another question.
What do you know about the Bloodstone Emperor?
Marwyn thought for a moment before answering.
"The Great Empire of the Dawn fell because of civil war."
"After the death of the Amethyst Empress, her younger brother—the Bloodstone Emperor—seized power."
"He murdered his sister and claimed the throne for himself."
"Once he became emperor, his rule grew increasingly cruel."
"He took a tiger-woman as his wife."
"He practiced dark sorcery."
"He offered blood sacrifices."
"He enslaved countless people and ruled through terror."
"Eventually, his atrocities brought disaster upon the empire."
"A terrible plague swept across the land."
"The sun ceased to shine."
"And the Long Night descended upon the world."
At the mention of the Long Night, Drogon's eyes narrowed.
Anything connected to that ancient catastrophe immediately caught his attention.
He quickly wrote another question.
The same Long Night that struck Westeros?
The room fell silent.
Even Marwyn seemed hesitant to answer.