The Dragonstone guard who had been ordered to act walked toward Aegor, holding a knife shorter than his palm. Shrugging apologetically, the young man glanced at him.

Bound tightly with his torso and limbs secured, Aegor could only feebly struggle against the ropes, shaking his body as he watched the guard approach. His thoughts raced, but no clear answers came. What was happening? Could it be that his blood, as someone from another world, carried some unique power that the Lord of Light, R’hllor, required? If that were the case, would he eventually be thrown into the fire and sacrificed at some critical moment?

He had knowledge far beyond anyone else in this world. He had a massive plan to slowly establish a foothold, build his own connections and influence, and eventually use resources and strategy to intervene in the Game of Thrones. He had plans to change pivotal events in the future and potentially alter the fate of the entire world. He had survived the White Walkers, left the Wall far behind, and was just beginning to embark on a new life. Was everything going to end prematurely on this desolate island at the mouth of Blackwater Bay?

…

Aegor’s wide eyes were fixed on the knife in the guard’s hand. A few drops of blood weren’t enough to scare him into losing his composure or begging for mercy, but the real issue was what might come after. Like Tyrion, he fancied himself a clever man, but cleverness was of little use against an opponent whose intentions were completely unknown. He had no idea why Melisandre had suddenly turned hostile, and he had no leverage to counter it.

“Just my arm—be gentle, please!” Aegor said, eyeing the guard’s trembling hand as it gripped the knife. He was determined to retain the last shred of dignity in this humiliating situation by choosing where the wound would be made.

“Alright…”

The man holding the knife was a young guard, no older than twenty. He had been a child during the last great war and had joined Stannis’s forces only a year ago. This was the first time he had ever used a weapon to deliberately draw blood from someone. Aegor’s calm but sarcastic remark only made him more nervous, and the guard applied too little force, resulting in a shallow cut. It took several seconds for the blood to start seeping out.

Hurriedly, the guard used the back of the knife to scrape up a few drops of blood and carried it over to the priestess.

Melisandre took out a handkerchief, wiped the blood off the blade, and let the fabric absorb the droplets. Then, she threw the blood-stained cloth into the brazier and turned her gaze intently toward the flames.

Aegor’s eyes also shifted to the fire but he saw nothing unusual. His blood didn’t have any kind of “power.” The flames engulfed the handkerchief, and aside from the brief addition of a new flicker, neither the color nor the temperature of the fire changed in any significant way.

However, Melisandre’s expression grew solemn. Her wide, unblinking eyes stared at the brazier as though it held the answer to some ultimate question, though whatever it was seemed frustratingly out of reach. She leaned closer, gripping the brazier’s stand, moving her face nearer and nearer to the flames.

Aegor was startled to notice that the flames actually licked at her hair, yet not a single strand curled or burned. The priestess of the Lord of Light truly had some extraordinary abilities; she appeared immune to fire itself!

About a minute later, Melisandre finally released the brazier stand and stepped back. Her gaze returned to Aegor, her red eyes gleaming with interest. As she opened her mouth to speak, the door suddenly burst open with a loud bang, and a man entered the room.

…

“You arrested the Night’s Watchman?”

Against the light of the brazier, Aegor couldn’t make out the figure’s face, but the commanding tone of the voice and his own instincts told him who it was. “Lord Stannis! I’m here under the orders of Jeor Mormont to oversee the mining of dragonglass. You should be aware of this! I swear I’ve done nothing wrong on your island. If I’ve offended you or Lady Melisandre unintentionally, I apologize. But please, untie me! I’m willing to face her directly to clear up this misunderstanding!”

“What do you mean by this?” Stannis ignored Aegor’s outburst and turned his cold gaze toward Melisandre. “The Night’s Watch came here to mine dragonglass. Lord Stark wrote to inform me of this, and I granted my permission. Who do you think you are, ordering the arrest of someone who entered my land with my approval?”

“Do you remember the ancient alien gods I told you about?” Melisandre asked, nodding respectfully toward Stannis. A faint smile played on her lips. “I sensed a powerful aura of a foreign god emanating from this Night’s Watchman. I wanted to understand why that—or perhaps those—gods sent him here.”

“I don’t care what you want to understand, Melisandre.” Stannis’s voice was calm but carried the weight of absolute authority. “You have your uses, which is why I tolerate your presence on Dragonstone. But if you continue to act without my approval and indulge in nonsense, I’ll have no choice but to send you away. Now, release the Night’s Watchman and apologize to him, or leave Dragonstone immediately.”

Relief swept through Aegor’s body like a wave. He had narrowly avoided disaster. For several seconds, his mind went blank before he silently clenched his fists behind his back. Knowing the plot and holding advanced knowledge suddenly felt meaningless. In this world, his fate could be decided with a single word from these powerful figures. He realized with startling clarity how urgently he needed to turn his advantages into tangible influence and real power.

“As you wish, my lord,” Melisandre said after a moment, her tone softening as she lowered her gaze. Her earlier confidence was gone, replaced by quiet obedience. “Let him go.”

The young guard holding the knife hesitated, clearly confused. But since both Stannis and Melisandre had spoken, he quickly moved to untie Aegor.

Without another word, Stannis snorted and turned to leave the room.

—

Perhaps it was because the young guard had been intimidated by Lord Stannis moments ago, or maybe he was simply clumsy by nature, but it took him several seconds to figure out how to untie the knot. Impatient, Melisandre finally shook her head. “Step aside, I’ll do it.”

Ever since she had ordered Aegor’s capture, the Red Priestess had kept a cautious distance of two meters, standing in a defensive posture. Now, confident that he posed no immediate threat, she approached the bound Night’s Watchman. The hot air radiating from her seemed to intensify as she ran her hand lightly along his arm, brushing against the ropes that restrained him.

Aegor flinched slightly. Her touch came with a faint, burning sensation, and almost immediately, the ropes binding him began to snap one by one with loud pops. Freed, he stepped forward to steady himself, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms. Touching the spots on his skin where he had felt the heat, he found no burns or injuries—only a lingering warmth.

Looking down at the broken ropes on the ground, he noticed the severed ends were charred black, faint wisps of smoke curling into the air. The ropes had been burned, yet his skin remained unscathed. The sheer impossibility of what had just happened left Aegor at a loss for words. No explanation, no knowledge he possessed, could account for it.

Melisandre stood within arm’s reach now, close enough that Aegor could have wrapped his hands around her slender neck and choked the life out of her. And yet, as much as he loathed her at this moment, he had to admit that he couldn’t bring himself to act. The woman standing before him, seemingly delicate and fragile, exuded an intangible power that made his instincts scream in warning.

“I apologize, my friend in black,” Melisandre said, her tone softened. But the expression on her face betrayed no genuine remorse, her words were delivered with the detached, self-assured air of someone who considered herself superior. “This is the first time I’ve encountered such a potent aura of a foreign god other than my Lord of Light, and I was caught off guard. I overreacted, and in doing so, caused you to suffer. Please, forgive me.”

—

Aegor had no intention of forgiving her, nor did he plan to leave quietly, tail tucked between his legs. He had always considered himself a calm and good-natured person, but when truly provoked, his anger was far from trivial. What bothered him more than the humiliation was the feeling of being at the mercy of an enemy whose motives and intentions he couldn’t understand.

Tonight, he intended to get to the bottom of this. If Melisandre couldn’t provide a reasonable explanation for her actions, he might need to add a “fight to the death” category to his mental blacklist.

When he returned to King’s Landing to begin preparations for his next steps—acquiring supplies, recruiting soldiers, and raising funds—his first order of business might just involve finding a way to eliminate this woman.

He already had an idea. The Faceless Man Jaqen H’ghar was currently imprisoned in King’s Landing, likely destined to be recruited by Yoren into the Night’s Watch. As a devout follower of the Many-Faced God, Jaqen would surely resist being taken to the Wall to swear an oath of service. If Aegor could find a way to release him, he doubted it would be difficult to secure Jaqen’s help in dealing with Melisandre.

Aegor couldn’t help but feel a curious fascination at the thought: what would happen if a devotee of the Many-Faced God, someone who claimed to be able to kill anyone, clashed with the mysterious priestess of the Red God?

“It’s easy enough for me to tell Lord Stannis that I forgive you, my lady,” Aegor said, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “But I was in the middle of enjoying a good meal when I was dragged off, tied to a pillar, and stabbed. If I don’t understand why any of that happened, I doubt anyone would expect me to let it go so easily.” His voice was calm but firm as he met her gaze. “I need an explanation, Lady Melisandre.”

***

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep