XelofBloom
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🕑 Added 2023-06-07 03:49:50 +0000 UTC“We’ve located over ninety-five percent of the request.” First said his form looking suave as usual. Eve stared out the window of the Silver Bank at the expanding city of Braavos. It was inevitable that her financial empire had expanded on the back of the commoners. As quality of life improved, so did the strength of her financial might.
“It is critical that we find every dead body we can.” Eve said turning from the reflective silver glass windows. “Every body we dust now is one less soldier for the enemy.”
“Understood, but they can still retreat into the sea. We have no way of chasing them into the depths.” First said letting a smidge of fear creep into his voice.
“The sea will be denied. I’ve taken steps for that, the Seven were not an accident.” Eve said with calm assurance. Even her most well-trained worried when they didn’t have the full picture. It didn’t bother her, blind faith was useful, but loyal rationalists were easier to predict.
Eve cast her senses outward twisting space to view a scene from far North. The enormous glass window glinted as it turned a silver sheen. “Let us see how things are proceeding.”
In the harsh North, beneath the snow-kissed canopy of the Haunted Forest, Elyse, the lady of House Darring, set her gaze upon the imposing edifice of the winter border of Far North, its icy sheen glowing in the eerie moonlight. Armed with a crude hatchet and an unyielding determination, she ventured forth, defying the biting cold and the tales of dread. The expedition was paid for by the Silver Bank so only the best was on it.
Wielding a fur cloak to shield her petite frame from the cruel winds, Elyse's face was hardened by resolve and a sense of duty, the austere lines weathered from the numerous battles she had weathered over the years. Her azure eyes bore an uncanny resemblance to the icy wilderness, holding a world of wisdom and courage. She had been handpicked by the Bank’s enigmatic ruler for this journey.
Rumors that a Wall was coming were prefaced by the expedition to ensure it was needed. If she found the whispers of legends true it would be erected to guard the realms of men from the Others. Elyse had willingly entered the frozen wastes, embarking on a quest to unveil the secrets of the land, to know if there was truly an enemy lurking in the shadows. Would they find the Others, or were the tales spun by the Northman full of drak.
The seemingly unending forest groaned under the weight of the fresh snowfall, the frozen silence punctuated by the distant howl of a lone direwolf. Elyse and her party of brave men moved like shadows against the whiteness of the North, their eyes continuously scanning the wilderness for any signs of the enemy.
Deeper they trekked into the wilderness, beyond where any mapped parchment extended, guided by the eerie green hues of the northern lights. They encountered frozen streams, their waters stilled by the harsh cold, and towering trees covered in blankets of frost. At times, they discovered traces of the Free Folk - abandoned huts, or the scar of a hastily doused fire.
Eve watched them travel through the silver mirror’s spell. It was much like watching an adventure film from the safety of her seated comfort. First stood behind her without movement. The passage of time was nothing to them as they kept watch.
On the third day of the journey, a sudden, harsh snowstorm trapped the explorers within the confines of a large cave. Here, Elyse stumbled upon ancient markings etched into the icy stone walls, symbols that seemed eerily similar to those drawn by the Children of the Forest. Her heart fluttered in trepidation; she was touching the past, perhaps the very origins of her enemies.
Eve’s eyes gained an icy tint as she saw the runic language. “Desperate people are idiots, as to be expected.”
Once the storm subsided, Eve’s paid professionals set out again, only to be greeted by a sight as baffling as it was terrifying. A weirwood tree, towering and ancient, stood alone in a clearing, its bark as white as bone, its face bearing an expression of anguish. Its crimson leaves, resembling droplets of blood against the snow, rustled ominously.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a disconcerting screech that echoed through the icy expanse. The enemy had arrived. From the depths of the white wilderness emerged the chilling truth they had been seeking - a horde of wights, their eyes glowing an unnatural blue in the dim light. But Elyse was undeterred. She and her men were ready for the fight.
The Silver Bank had equipped them with strange weapons and armor engraved with glowing runes.
A feeling of adrenaline surged through her as she clutched her hatchet tighter, the harsh cold forgotten, her gaze unwavering. This was the moment she had ventured so far for. This was the time to truly test her mettle. With a determined exhale, Elyse commanded her men into position, steeling herself for the battle that would decide the fate of her company.
The forest fell silent once more as if holding its breath, its peace disturbed only by the cold winds whispering tales of the imminent clash. And so began the battle, the war between life and death, between fear and courage, and between the known and the unknown. The woman from House Darring had crossed the threshold, and only time would reveal if she could become victorious.
“I’ve paid quite a bit for these mercenaries. Good to see it was worth it.” Eve spoke from the safety of thousands of miles away. First nodded agreement behind her chair.
"Steady men," Elyse cried out, her voice echoing through the white vastness as the horde approached. "We fight not just for our lives but for the Silver Bank’s coin! Stand strong!"
Her men responded with a resounding war-cry, the metallic clatter of their weapons and shields filling the silence of the frosty air. The wights descended upon them, and the clearing transformed into a battlefield, each warrior fighting a whirlwind of unyielding death.
Elyse moved with a grace that belied her robust armor, the hatchet in her hands a mere blur as it cut through the wights. Her every step was a dance with death, her every strike carrying the strength of her resolve. Despite their number, the wights seemed to falter before her unwavering onslaught.
It was clear the weapons and armor of the Silver Bank were more than mere steel and silver. The strange runes adorning them gave power to their wielder pushing them beyond the limits of humanity.
Yet, the battle was far from won. As the night thickened, the ice-blue glow of the wights seemed to multiply, their onslaught relentless. Exhaustion threatened to take hold of her men, their breaths turning into ragged gasps in the frosty air.
“Drink the potions you fool.” Eve whispered into the air of her room.
“Potions out!” Elyse commanded as if hearing the words of her employer.
Blue and red tinted vials were drained by the entire company in a few swift seconds. Moments after drinking the potion, from the corner of her eye, she spotted it - a towering figure, eerily calm amidst the chaos of the battlefield. A Dreadknight. Elyse knew their fight against the wights was futile unless they struck the heart of the darkness. It was fortunate the creature hadn’t personally intervened until now.
Summoning her refreshed strength, Elyse plunged through the horde, her gaze fixed on the Dreadknight. Each step was a fight against the rising dread in her heart, each breath a plea to the Old Gods for strength. As she neared, the powerful figure it turned his gaze toward her, his icy eyes piercing her resolve.
“So, he’s already managed to create second tier undead.” Eve mused from her chair. “Second tier?” First asked as he watched the mercenary commander charge. “Indeed, much like humanoids, the undead have their own tiers to rise through.” Eve said as her eyes consumed the battlefield’s fighting.
At the Far North, Elyse did not falter. With a shout, she lunged forward, her hatchet aimed straight at the Dreadknight. A moment stretched into an eternity, the world around them seemed to pause, the noise of the battle reduced to a distant hum.
Then, with a force that shook the clearing, her weapon struck, embedding itself into the creature’s armor. The runes on the axe blazed a bright red light driving away the darkness. There was a moment of uncertainty as if the Silver Bank’s weapon had failed, but it passed. A chill ran down Elyse’s spine as she watched the Dreadknight’s figure shatter, falling apart like ash and dust. It was surreal as if the creature from nightmare had vanished at the touch of red sunlight.
In the wake of their leader's defeat, the remaining wights collapsed, their bodies crumbling into the snow, their menacing glow extinguished. Silence descended on the clearing once again, the bitter cold of the night broken only by the ragged breaths of the surviving warriors.
They had won. She lived!
Elyse collapsed to her knees, exhaustion overtaking her. The sight of the fallen Dreadknight, a mound of powdered ash and dust, burned into her memory. Her heart hammered in her chest, the rush of victory mingling with the bitter taste of loss. They had paid a heavy price. Three of her men lay still in the frozen wastes never to rise again. Her men moved with mechanical precision to strip the corpses and turn them to ashes with Silver Bank devices.
“Excellent work. Triple their bonuses when you fetch them.” Eve said gesturing with a single hand. First bowed and stepped toward the mirror’s image. Instead of colliding with the glass he vanished within it to appear in the Far North.
A faint glow of the rising sun began to spill over the horizon, the first rays of dawn banishing the darkness of the night. Elyse looked around at her brave men, their eyes reflecting the same mixture of relief, grief, and determination that she felt. They were far from home, in the heart of the wilderness, but they had completed the job without error.
There was the sound of ice snapping. A second later a figure appeared from a blazing silver doorway cut into the air.
“Greetings, Lady of House Darring.” First said his voice unnaturally loud in the silent snows. Everyone appeared to have trouble grasping how a person appeared from nothing. Furthermore, he looked like nothing so much as a butler decked in the colors of the Silver Bank.
“T-The Bank?” Elyse stuttered trying to comprehend. She recognized First as the trusted hand of the Silver Bank’s enigmatic ruler. He had been near the lady labeled Third when she signed the contract.
“Indeed. If you would we can return to Braavos with haste.” First said looking impeccable. “Step through the door and receive the agreed upon payment, as well as bonuses.”
Elyse blinked before stumbling toward the strange silver door-light. On the other side was a large room with a roaring fire visible through the portal. Tables laden with food were clearly visible.
“If you could do this…?” Elyse asked confused.
“The Silver Bank is not a charity.” First said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It warned her that asking further was not a good idea.
With a nod, the hired mercenaries proceeded through the portal. Inside the Silver Bank's discreetly opulent room, Lady Elyse, stood at the head of her band of grizzled mercenaries. Her pale skin and steely gaze were a testament to battles fought in lands far from home. The trained professionals behind her, clad in rune armors and carrying standard weapons, also with runes, were a grim embodiment of violence-for-hire.
First entered from the portal everyone had passed through into the room within the depths of the Sliver Bank, his garb as pricey as his surroundings. Elyse knew without question, this was First, the first of the Faceless, the Silver Bank's ruler’s representative, a man who controlled more wealth than many a king. She had made the connection after taking a brief meal. He moved with the certainty of one who knew that, in this room, his word was law. She didn’t doubt if there were any issues, he could dispose of her entire company runic weapons and armor or not.
He studied the mercenaries with cold, detached interest. "The Silver Bank appreciates your service," he said, his voice as hard as the coins he dealt with. "Your payment awaits."
With a curt nod, two servants came forward from a nearby door, lugging large chests. They heaved them onto the tables with a thud that echoed through the silent chamber. Plates rattled at the weight now being born by stout wood. First opened the chests revealing mounds of silver and gold coin branded with the Bank’s sigils, their minted surfaces gleaming coldly in the dim light.
“Take what you can carry. The Bank is no charity, but it is no miser either.” First said stepping back.
There was a moment of stillness as the mercenaries beheld the tangible proof of their dangerous work. Then, they moved forward. Elyse, with a nod of satisfaction, filled her sturdy leather pouch with the cold silver and gold coins. Each mercenary followed their commander’s suit, their eyes gleaming with the reflections of their earnings. They had spilled undead blood, risked life and limb for this silver, and every coin was a testament to their survival and skill. No one questioned the bonus of gold given. It was clear the Bank was buying silence.
As the last mercenary collected his due, First spoke again. "The Silver Bank may call upon your services in the future. You will be compensated accordingly," he said. His icy gaze locked with Elyse's. "Until then, Lady Darring."
Elyse nodded, hefting her now-heavy pouch. She looked at her band, their faces lit up with the satisfaction of a job well done, and the promise of more to come. As they filed out of the Silver Bank, the cold Braavosi wind hit them, carrying whispers of silver and steel, of blood and coin. But for now, they were richer than ever before. They'd live, fight, and, if the gods were kind, die by the sword. And the Silver Bank, unfeeling and unerring, would continue to count its wealth.
Giving one glance back at the incredible institution, Lady Darring departed with her men. She had territory to acquire!
