Qyburn narrowed his eyes and put forward a more specific conjecture.
"The Valyrians are descendants of the Bloodstone Emperor and the Amethyst Empress, as is House Hightower. But what about House Dayne of Dorne? House Dayne shares physical traits with the Valyrians and House Hightower. Their main branch resides at Starfall and possesses the greatsword Dawn. Arthur Dayne was even known as the 'Sword of the Morning.'
"Their cadet branch resides at High Hermitage, where Gerold Dayne is called the 'Darkstar.' Dawn and night, light and darkness. Do these not correspond to ice and fire, the Long Night and the dawn? And then there are Valyria's two famed swords, Blackfyre and Dark Sister. Their very names subtly echo fire and night. That can hardly be a coincidence."
Lo Quen's expression shifted slightly.
"Maester Qyburn, if that is truly the case, then I have to wonder whether House Dayne's treasury might also secretly preserve a piece of Black Stone from beyond the sky, or something closely connected to it."
After a brief moment of thought, he made his decision.
"I will arrange for trustworthy men to go to Starfall shortly and investigate thoroughly."
Another thought followed immediately.
"As for Blackfyre and Dark Sister… Illyrio once gave Blackfyre to Young Aegon, and it eventually ended up in my hands. But Dark Sister… legend says it remained with Brynden Rivers all along. Yet I saw no trace of that sword in the caves Beyond the Wall."
Marwyn frowned.
"Could he have hidden it somewhere deep within the cave?"
Lo Quen shook his head.
"I burned that weirwood and the surrounding area completely with dragonfire. With my current perception, it would have been impossible for me to miss an object of Valyrian steel's caliber. The most likely explanation is that Dark Sister was moved ahead of time, given to someone else, or… taken during the Others' attack."
Marwyn considered this.
"Taken by the Others? But what use would they have for a Valyrian steel sword? It's a weapon meant to kill them."
Qyburn offered his own view.
"Perhaps precisely because of that. If they take one away, humanity loses a weapon capable of threatening them. Weakening one's enemy is always advantageous."
Lo Quen nodded.
"That's one possibility. In any case, the whereabouts of Dark Sister remain a mystery. Perhaps, as implied in the Old Gods' words, all answers and all final clues ultimately point eastward.
"Melisandre's prophecy claims Jon Snow is on the eastern continent. He has already been resurrected once by the Lord of Light's magic and may gradually be eroded or even controlled by the Lord of Light's will. If we head east and follow this thread, many truths should reveal themselves in time."
Marwyn and Qyburn both nodded, their expressions heavy.
This discussion had yielded enormous insight, nearly overturning their understanding of the nature of the world itself.
The so-called reincarnation of Azor Ahai, the lie of a prophesied savior who would save the world, was all false.
The truth was a cruel cycle that had lasted for thousands of years, born from ancient false gods struggling against one another for power.
There was no savior at all. Only ancient wills, obsessed with power and playing with lives, manipulating everything from behind the scenes.
After concluding his long discussion with the two maesters, Lo Quen left the study.
As he walked through the slightly chilly corridors of Storm's End, his mind was still digesting everything he had learned about the Black Stone and the fate of the world.
Just then, a young woman with a face full of freckles approached and gently blocked his path.
She was Desmera Redwyne, one of the last direct descendants of House Redwyne of the Arbor.
Her father, Lord Paxter, along with the rest of her family, had perished in the naval battle at Whispering Sound.
Now, she and the surviving women of her house had been settled within the court of Storm's End, carrying out simple court duties.
Desmera wore a plain but elegant dress, her posture proper and her demeanor respectful.
Holding a roll of parchment in both hands, she bowed deeply to Lo Quen.
Her voice was clear.
"Your Grace, a letter has just arrived from Conquest Keep. It is an urgent message from Lord Meizo."
Lo Quen's heart stirred as he took the parchment.
He unrolled it at once, a flash of delight crossing his eyes.
The letter was brief, yet its contents were more than enough to shock.
The Tattered Prince, together with his Windblown Company, had successively breached and seized control of the two major Free Cities, Pentos and Norvos.
...
The next day, in the great hall of Storm's End, the Small Council convened as the king and his ministers debated a new fiscal plan.
In Lo Quen's new kingdom, there was no Hand of the King. He held all power himself.
Below the dais, Tyrion stepped up before the enormous map. He planted a finger on several key points and spoke loudly.
"Your Grace, my lords, the war has destroyed the old order. But that also means we can build a more efficient new order on relatively clean ground. The Seven Kingdoms' five great cities lie in ruins, trade has stalled, and the flow of gold has dried up. We must find stable, sustainable sources of revenue."
His first strike was aimed at the fertile Reach.
"Arbor. The men of House Redwyne have all fallen at Whispering Sound. Given the many offenses House Redwyne, and Lord Paxter himself, committed against Your Grace, all their lands, fleets, and most importantly their wine industry are to be confiscated by the Crown.
"I have already dispatched commissioners to take over the vineyards and wineries, retaining most of the experienced vintners and craftsmen. Arbor's fine wines will no longer be a single house's cash cow, but the kingdom's treasury. We can authorize reliable merchants to handle sales, allow the Crown to take substantial profits, and strictly control export quotas, using them as a diplomatic weapon."
Then his gaze shifted west.
"Next, let us turn our attention to the Westerlands…"
He paused, something complicated flickering in his eyes, but it cleared almost at once.
"House Lannister is likewise all but extinct. The future lord of Casterly Rock belongs to the child of Your Grace and Queen Myrcella… Therefore, all gold mines, whether already discovered or yet to be found, are from this day forward declared the exclusive property of the Crown. Any private mining, refining, or trade in gold will be treated as a grave crime."
The sheer force of that decree made several nobles present draw a sharp breath, instinctively trading frightened looks.
It meant the lifeblood that had once made House Lannister richer than kingdoms was now clenched in the king's fist.
And yet no one dared object.
The nobility of the Seven Kingdoms had been devastated by years of internal conflict; fewer than one in ten remained. The Westerlands had been nearly uprooted entirely, and most surviving houses were badly weakened, living in constant dread.
Besides, everyone understood that the future principal lords of the realm, whether in the Reach or at Riverrun, were all the king's own blood.
When the nobles had come to offer congratulations on the naming day of the children born to Lynesse and Roslin, all eyes had fallen on the two infants: the same black hair, the same dark eyes, and Lo Quen's undisguised affection. Any lingering doubt had vanished on the spot.
No one dared speak.
To do so would mean setting oneself against the king, against the future lords, and against the very direction of the kingdom itself.
They could only bow their heads and struggle to find their place in the new order.
Tyrion's fiscal policy did not end there.
He continued laying out his proposals: clearing the debts left by the old regime, redesigning the kingdom's tax structure, and preparing, once immigrant settlements stabilized and production recovered, to implement fairer land taxes and commercial taxes.
But stripped down to its essence, every new system had the same purpose: weaken the power of the local nobility and strengthen the Crown.
All the nobles listened to Tyrion, quietly weeping inside.