Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 83: Marsh Marigolds

Rhaegar looked at Sam Crabb with a thoughtful expression, as if he was trying to decide what to say.

The man's unwavering loyalty was both admirable and a bit of a challenge.

But as he kept thinking about it, the Forest Witch's arcane knowledge started to look pretty appealing.

If these notes held the key to defeating the shadow creature, they might also open a path for him to delve into the mysteries of magic.

Who wouldn't want to have such mystical powers at their disposal?

Taking a deep breath, Rhaegar said, "Lord Sam, I think the contents of these notes could be really useful. I'll give your request some thought."

"Yes, Prince."

Sam's astonishment was evident in his eyes as he replied with equal gravity, "May the glory of heroes shine upon you. I sense that you will be the new hero of Crackclaw Point."

"I hope so."

"Lord Sam, since our time is short. I will ride Cannibal to The Whispers Castle. Can you tell me to the location of the notes?"

Without hesitation, Sam replied, "They're stored in the basement of the castle. Ask Yara for help. She'll show you where they are."

"Very well. I will leave immediately."

With his mind on defeating the shadow creature, Rhaegar told Trangal to deal with the wildlings outside the city walls. Then, he rode Cannibal towards the Whispers on the southern coast.

...

The Cannibal reached its destination in just ten minutes, landing gracefully at the castle gates. The guards stepped forward to salute, recognizing the dragon rider.

As Sam's children emerged from the castle to greet him, Rhaegar exchanged brief pleasantries before seeking out the young girl, Yara.

Though initially confused by his request, Yara, ever the resilient daughter of the Crackclaw Point, wasted no time in leading Rhaegar down to the castle's basement.

Descending through two levels, one well-lit and the other shrouded in darkness, they reached their destination.

With the flicker of an oil lamp, Yara illuminated the dim surroundings, revealing an eerie room filled with various objects and boxes. In one corner sat a desk decorated with an array of skulls.

"This is it, Prince," Yara murmured softly, making her way to the desk and lighting a large candle.

Though taken aback by the strange sight, Rhaegar steeled himself and approached the table, noticing a wooden box resting on it.

Yara pulled a key from one of the skulls and unlocked the box, revealing a thin, yellowed book inside. With great care, she handed it to Rhaegar and cradled it in his hand.

As Rhaegar accepted the book, he felt the smooth texture of parchment beneath his fingertips and realized it was no ordinary paper.

"Let's step outside, Prince," Yara suggested, noting his discomfort in the dimly lit cellar.

"Agreed. Let's go outside," Rhaegar replied.

As they walked, Rhaegar studied the Forest Witch's notes, his brow furrowing with each line he deciphered.

The writing was indeed Valyrian, but it was a far cry from the traditional High Valyrian of the Targaryen family. It was a mixture of various dialects, interspersed with both common and obscure scripts, creating a tangled web of words.

Fortunately, Rhaegar's knowledge of Valyrian allowed him to make sense of the jumbled text, though it would have been dizzying for anyone else trying to read it.

"Nature Magic... Flower of Life... Dead Man's Murmur..."

By the time he came out of the cellar, Rhaegar had read the whole book, which was only a few pages long.

The book was pretty slim, with just three spells and some basic info on nature magic. Of the three spells, Rhaegar could only fully understand one: the Forest Witch's "Dead Man's Murmur," a spell that can resurrect severed heads.

The other two spells were harder to get. One spell involved animal shapeshifting, which required an innate ability that most humans don't have. The third spell focused on connecting with the essence of nature, which meant having a deep understanding of the natural world.

Mastering these spells would require not only a deep understanding, but also an innate talent for natural magic—which is a challenge even for someone like Rhaegar.

"Luckily, Dead Man's Murmur is pretty straightforward. It doesn't require any special talent, just certain materials," Rhaegar said thoughtfully.

The magic was based on a unique substance: the Flower of Life. The Flower of Life has a powerful vitality that preserves the head from decay, allowing the spell to awaken the memories of the deceased.

But there was one key difference: memory wasn't the same as consciousness. The skull was able to speak, but it didn't have any real intelligence. It was just a puppet, a hollow echo of the life it once held.

This realization left Rhaegar with a sour taste in his mouth. He recoiled from the idea of manipulating corpses for personal gain, finding it morally repugnant.

"What a despicable form of magic," Rhaegar muttered, his brow furrowed in disgust.

This wasn't the kind of magic he was looking for. He was drawn to the awe-inspiring magic flames or great swords, the magic of heroes and warriors.

"No wonder the Citadel shuns such practices; they only breed corruption," he mused, his disappointment evident as he handed the book back to Yara.

"Did you not like the contents?" Yara inquired, her tone soft.

"Valuable knowledge, perhaps, but not the kind I seek," Rhaegar replied with a shake of his head.

Still, he formulated a plan.

The Shadowbinder's head stayed put in the Dyre Den.

If he could revive it, there might be a chance to gain insight into how to fight the shadow creature.

Turning to Yara, Rhaegar asked, "Do you know anything about the Flower of Life?"

He had memorized the incantation for Dead Man's Murmur, but the spell required a crucial component: the Flower of Life.

Yara's expression turned curious as she gestured to the family banner that adorned the wall of the waiting room. "Prince, our emblem - the Marsh Marigold - is also known as the Flower of Life."

Rhaegar glanced back, taking in the intricately wrought golden flower - a stark contrast to its origins in the murky swamp.

"I had assumed it was just a common marsh orchid," Rhaegar admitted in surprise.

Yara explained with a smile, "While marsh marigolds may resemble orchids, they have a distinct coloration and thrive in different environments."

"The marsh marigold, said to be hardy and teeming with vitality, is hailed as the flower of life."

Undeterred, Rhaegar pressed on. "Where might one find it?"

Yara shook her head. "Marsh marigolds are extremely rare, thought to have disappeared over a century ago, probably driven to extinction."

Rhaegar said, "If I go on an expedition on the dragon's back through the swamps of the Peninsula, Is there any chance of finding one?"

Yara gave a realistic assessment. "Given that half of the peninsula is covered by swamps and barely inhabited, the chances of finding a Flower of Life in the middle of the swamps are pretty slim."

"That's fine," Rhaegar replied confidently, sounding sure of himself and his abilities. "As long as it's still out there, there's a chance."

Then he turned to a more pressing matter. "Regarding the notes, please keep it safe, the Forest Witch was clearly good at natural magic."