Lady R’hllor’s miracle did not alarm everyone. Or rather, it only alarmed a small portion of people.

Within the densely packed houses and buildings of Hogwarts Town Inner Keep, the ordinary staff and soldiers still rose at the sound of reveille as usual. Yawning and rubbing their sleepy eyes, they dressed and left their rooms to begin another day of work and life. Indoor personnel started clearing the ice that had formed overnight on the ground. The soldiers on duty patrolled in formation to maintain order within the keep. The warehouse staff busied themselves with taking stock of the remaining supplies from the previous war and calculating the materials needed for the next expedition. More officers from the industrial guard, currently without assignments, gathered in the center of the training ground after a steaming hot breakfast to begin their daily warm-up drills.

Aegor, with the Red Priestess and a few attendants, passed quickly through the square and streets. His presence not only caused the Inner Keep, which was still in its slow morning start-up phase, to suddenly stir with energy, but also attracted more attention than usual.

It was not merely because of the faint trace of majesty exuded by the Lord Commander, something only vaguely sensed from afar by ordinary people. It was more so due to subtle changes in the Red Priestess’s demeanor.

Aegor noticed it clearly.

So this was the power of the Red God.

Once his status as a Prophet had been confirmed, he had casually used the phrase “Lady R’hllor,” and Melisandre immediately adopted the term without hesitation. She also began addressing the deity that way. Normally, the witch would walk side by side with him, even holding his arm at times to slow his pace and keep him under her control. Today, however, she uncharacteristically took half a step back, following behind him and quickening her stride to match his. The priestess, who usually would not waste a word on him unless necessary, was now willing to walk aimlessly and waste time at his side.

Combined with how the other Red Priest, Moqorro, had obeyed his command without the slightest hesitation, all these behavioral shifts pointed to the same conclusion. Lady R’hllor’s authority and status in the hearts of Her followers were far greater than Aegor had initially assumed. Her meticulous attention to detail and thoughtful handling of matters also far exceeded expectations. The religious status of the Prophet was far higher than that of any ordinary chosen speaker.

What he had expected to face, resistance or questioning from high-ranking Red God followers, simply never appeared. As the representative, he had easily gained recognition and the power to command the Red God’s senior priests. If he could similarly gain control of the manpower and resources of the entire faith, then the value of this upfront reward would be truly considerable, far exceeding expectations.

This realization greatly lightened Aegor’s mood, and his steps became more relaxed. With the wind at his back, he crossed half of the Inner Keep and arrived at the nearest military stables with a small group of followers.

The Night’s Watch did not have formal cavalry units. The horses they kept were for Ranger patrols and officers leading units outside the walls. At this hour, the stable hands were feeding the dozens of military horses their morning hay. Skilled and efficient, they had already fed half of them within moments. Aegor waved a hand to indicate that they should continue working and not stop to greet him, then leisurely approached the stable, keeping his eyes on the horses behind the fence and observing their reactions.

The horses that had already received their breakfast buried their heads and ate heartily, snorting as they chewed. Those still waiting were shaking their heads and tails, twitching their ears, and staring impatiently at the stable hands, snorting and stamping their hooves. In short, they were making their presence known in every way to urge the workers to hurry.

At first, it seemed that none of the horses noticed or cared about Aegor’s presence. But after a few seconds, their reactions became unmistakable. First, the ones eating hay raised their heads one after another and stopped chewing. Then, the restless horses that had not yet received hay also went quiet, turning to stare at the Lord Commander in silence.

Finally, as if an invisible wave had rippled out from Aegor’s center and swept through the stable, the dozens of strong warhorses visibly froze in place, as if a stasis spell had been cast. From a few to all, they stood perfectly still. Only their heads turned uniformly toward Aegor, like sunflowers turning to the sun. Nearly a hundred eyes fixed on him alone.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

It was not just Melisandre and Aegor’s attendants who noticed. The stable hands also realized something was wrong. After muttering in confusion, they dared not slack off in front of the Lord Commander and continued filling each horse’s trough with hay. But none of the horses bent their heads to eat.

How is this different from what I imagined?

Aegor looked around, puzzled. He even reached out and touched one of the horses behind the fence, which stood motionless as if petrified. He discovered they were neither startled by the Dragon might emanating from him, nor panicked into running wild. Nor were they so intimidated that they dared not breathe. Their breathing and vital signs were perfectly normal, yet they watched him as if he were some alien being they had never encountered in their lives.

Clearly, the horses could sense the aura that came from him after the Dragon scale was implanted. But instead of fear or panic, they responded with curiosity and stillness.

This meant one of three things. Either the horses had enough intelligence to understand he posed no threat. Or the Dragon might within a single scale was insufficient to frighten them. Or most likely, the thoughtful Lady had considered all outcomes before entering Her hibernation. The enchantments cast on this scale included functions to control the intensity and form of its aura, ensuring that this reward would assist its bearer without interfering with daily life.

After all, for a Prophet bearing such responsibility, it would be a disaster if he could not even ride a horse normally.

That question resolved, Aegor’s thoughts naturally leapt from horseback to something far more thrilling.

He suddenly had a feeling, for no apparent reason, that the aura from this scale would affect dragons very differently from how it affected horses. It was very likely he already possessed the qualification to ride a dragon.

Heh, riding a dragon. The thought alone was thrilling. For a fantasy-obsessed youth, this might be a dream come true. But for Aegor, a realist who valued his life more than anything, in an era where dragon-hunting ballistas were everywhere, the temptation of riding a dragon paled compared to the value of commanding a dragonrider.

A soft cough interrupted his thoughts.

What are you doing? Normally, Melisandre would have already snapped at him. But now, facing the Prophet and chosen representative of the Lord of Light, she held back. Though she knew this man inside and out, he had, after all, just communed with the true god. His status was no longer what it once was. Who knew whether his seemingly bizarre behavior with the horses was actually part of some divine mission entrusted to him by Lady R’hllor?

A minute passed. The horses gradually lost interest in Aegor and one by one emerged from their frozen state, lowering their heads to enjoy their morning hay again. The man himself was pulled from his thoughts by the priestess’s cough. Pleased to confirm that his cheat ability extended to animals, he casually gave the stable hands a few instructions, just to make the visit seem justified, then waved and led his bewildered attendants out of the stable.

On the way back to the office, Melisandre unexpectedly asked about the true meaning behind his visit to the stables and once again tried to extract information about his encounter with Lady R’hllor through careful hints. Aegor calmly brushed her off with a few vague replies. But in his heart, he was regretting something else entirely.

What currently made him the most uneasy?

It was not the potential rebellion within the Gift. Nor the two troublemakers who had just arrived and were already on their way to the Queen. Nor Robb Stark in the South, plotting and scheming while being played for a fool. Nor the remaining Six Kingdoms to the South.

It was one special Night’s Watch soldier. Greenseer Bran Stark.

Other potential enemies, Aegor either already had the means to deal with or at least had some way to understand and guard against. But this one, whose origins, abilities, and intentions were all shrouded in mystery, was the only one who truly made Aegor feel anxious.

During his dream where he met Lady R’hllor face to face, he had the perfect chance to ask Her about this boy’s background and how to handle him. The thought had crossed his mind. But in the end, he had chosen not to, fearing that the Lady was conjured by the Greenseer.

Now he had no way to contact Lady R’hllor again. But since he was now Her Prophet, perhaps he could use that title to test this mysterious character. He could say, Lady R’hllor asked me to bring you a message, and bluff him into backing off from causing trouble or interfering.

But was Lady R’hllor truly as powerful as She claimed? Did Her name carry enough weight to threaten other supernatural beings outside Her faith?

What if the Greenseer was not afraid of the Red God at all, or already knew She was severely wounded and unable to intervene? Then waving Her banner would be nothing more than a joke.

His mind was full of tangled doubts, and he had no idea how to resolve them.

Amusingly enough, he got his answer far sooner than even his most arrogant expectations could have predicted.

Retracing his steps across half of Hogwarts Town Inner Keep and nearing the outside of the office building, still dozens of meters away, he saw the wooden wheelchair, the only one of its kind in the Gift, being pushed by a strong female Grey Citizen.

Sitting in it, with a blanket draped across his legs, was Bran Stark.

(To be continued.)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep