"Jon, do you know why I chased that hawk this afternoon?"
"Warg," Jon nodded, his expression complicated as he gently touched the scar on his cheek. "In fact, I know that hawk. It used to belong to Orell. I killed him, and his hawk scratched my face. I heard the six-skinchanger, Varamyr, inherited that hawk."
"Six-skinchanger Varamyr? Didn't he have five pets?" Dany asked in surprise.
"Adding Orell's hawk, he might as well be called the 'Seven-skinchanger.' Three wolves, a shadowcat, a snow bear as large as a hut—he was almost the strongest skinchanger among the wildlings."
Dany remained silent. Not just the strongest among the wildlings—looking across the whole world, that Varamyr fellow had few equals... at least until the Stark family's generation of 'bugs' appeared.
Take Bran, for example; he would definitely be stronger than the Six-skinchanger.
Even putting Bran aside, Varamyr made Jon extremely wary, because his talent was not even half of Jon's.
"Are there many skinchangers among the wildlings?" Ser Barristan asked.
"At least twenty," Jon replied, "but none are as powerful as Varamyr. Most can only bond with a single animal. The strong ones can tame a shadowcat, the weaker ones only manage a goat or a wild boar."
The old knight's face changed drastically, and he exclaimed, "Twenty? By the Seven, even a shadowcat or a sparrow, if used cleverly, could alter the outcome of a war!"
Before Dany and Robb appeared, the old man might not have worried about such things.
But after personally experiencing the Slaver's Bay wars, he understood well: even a simple information asymmetry could put an entire side at a crushing disadvantage. And the suppression of cavalry and pack animals by powerful legendary beasts would only deepen that disadvantage.
Even if a skinchanger only controlled a sparrow, they could sneak into enemy castles and eavesdrop on the entire battle plan and troop deployment.
The advantage of completely mastering enemy intelligence—how terrifying that would be!
"Twenty is not a lot," Dany shook her head indifferently. "One skinchanger among a thousand followers of the Old Gods, and one greenseer among a thousand skinchangers. There are about 130,000–140,000 wildlings beyond the Wall. To have only a dozen or so skinchangers is already very few."
Jon hesitated. "The North also worships the Old Gods. Why... have we never heard of any skinchangers?"
Dany looked at him and gave a strange 'hee hee' laugh. "Searching for a horse while riding one—you yourself are a wolf spirit!"
"I'm not!" Jon hurriedly waved his hand, denying it with urgency, as if Dany had accused him of being a villain or a monster.
"You are instinctively denying your true nature. Jon, I understand. Skinchangers have been demonized by the Andals and by the Citadel, and you don't want to be seen as a monster.
But as a follower of the Old Gods, denying yourself, denying the skinchangers, is equivalent to loudly cursing that 'the Old Gods are evil.'"
"Varamyr was the strongest skinchanger among the wildlings," Jon said, his voice a little agitated, "but I heard from Ygritte and other wildlings that, as a child, he controlled the family's hunting dog to kill his own brother—committing kin-slaying. When he grew up, he stole his master's wolves, his house, and his land—worse than breaking a sacred vow.
He ruled over more than a dozen nearby villages through force. Anyone who dared to resist was torn apart by his wolves. He even used his shadowcat to raid villages for women.
According to Your Grace's explanation, the gift of skinchanging comes from the Old Gods' blessing. Why would the Old Gods bless someone so wicked?"
Jon's heart was torn; he partly agreed with Dany's view that skinchangers were related to the Old Gods, but the ones he had encountered had all been villains. Could it be that the Old Gods he worshipped favored evildoers?
"Jon, you misunderstand me," Dany said, instructing Barristan with a few words before continuing. "The gift of skinchanging is a personal bloodline ability. Whether it fundamentally comes from the Old Gods, I am not sure.
However, in the faith of the Old Gods, skinchangers hold the same status as priests.
You can question the character of a particular skinchanger, but there's no need to deny the entire 'Old Gods priesthood' system.
It's like the Faith of the Seven—there are no fewer corrupt High Septons than corrupt skinchangers, but I still take pride in my faith in the Seven and in my role as a priestess if I had one.
Another simple example: I have a gift for sorcery, but Ser Barristan does not.
If we both worshipped R'hllor, the Lord of Light, I could become a Red Priestess with barely any piety, while he, no matter how devout, would have no power at all.
Because he has no talent, his status in the Red Temple would be far below mine."
Archmaester Aemon mused thoughtfully, "That explanation is very clear, and very objective. To be honest, I, too, used to hold prejudice against skinchangers."
Jon's expression softened. He nodded silently, accepting Dany's reasoning. He hesitated a moment, then asked, "Then what should I do?"
"First, we need to test your talent."
As she spoke, Barristan returned from the tower above, carrying a long rectangular wooden box.
Dany took the box, opened it, and pulled out a piece of black crystal streaked with silvery patterns. She fitted it into the circular socket at the base of the box and said to Jon, "This is a glass candle. Try it—let's see how long it takes you to light it."
"How do I light it?" Jon dragged a chair over to the table, staring curiously at the black crystal. "Is this dragonglass? I found a bundle beyond the Wall once, with dozens of dragonglass daggers inside."
Archmaester Aemon explained slowly, "Dragonglass is the common term for obsidian. The Valyrians called it 'frozen fire.' Dragonstone Island holds massive deposits of dragonglass."
"The Iron Throne can wait," Dany said firmly, "but I must seize Dragonstone immediately."
"That is the ancestral seat of House Targaryen," she emphasized.
"And afterward?" Aemon asked worriedly. "Will Your Grace garrison it?"
"What does the old master think of House Velaryon of Driftmark and House Celtigar of Claw Isle?" Dany asked.
"As long as you appear before them riding your dragon, their loyalty won't be a problem," Aemon said. "But during the War of the Five Kings, they followed Stannis to King's Landing and suffered heavy losses.
Driftmark now has only a boy earl, not yet ten years old. As for Celtigar, the earl was defeated and captured, held prisoner by Duke Tywin in King's Landing—it's unclear whether he has returned to Claw Isle."
"A hundred or so guards will be enough. I have dragons—who would dare send ships to besiege Dragonstone?" Dany said confidently.
"You're not going back to Slaver's Bay?"
"Ha, it's only about seven thousand kilometers away in a straight line. With the defenses of Dragonstone, surely we can hold out for more than three days?"
"Uh..." Old Aemon looked stunned and asked doubtfully, "You mean you'll communicate with Dragonstone through magic?"
"Exactly. Glass candles. Archmaester Marwyn has already sworn loyalty to me. He's not just a maester of the Citadel—he's a sorcerer too."
"'Sorcerer' Marwyn?" Old Aemon's expression turned odd. "I know of him—his reputation in the Citadel isn't exactly good."
"By the way, what's going on with Archmaester Perestan? I noticed your relationship with him seems... complicated," the old maester asked again.
"Bzzt—" Just as Dany was about to explain the Citadel's conspiracy to the old maester, a silver-gray light suddenly filled their vision, then burst apart in an instant, the brilliance fading away.
"Ah—" Jon cried out blankly, rubbing his eyes. In a daze, he said, "M-my obsidian lit up. I didn't even touch it—it just suddenly started glowing."
"This... the legends are true? Glass candles really can light up on their own?!" Old Aemon said in disbelief.
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Dany studied Jon carefully, her expression solemn. After a while, she said slowly, "You lit the candle in less than half an hour. Jon Snow, your talent is very strong."
"The faster you light the glass candle, the stronger your talent?" Jon, feeling proud, grinned and asked, "Your Majesty, how long did it take you?"
"Just a glance," Dany said lightly, lifting her smooth chin slightly.
"Uh, what do you mean?"
"I merely looked at it once, and the candle lit up immediately, steady and bright. The light was so dazzling, it seemed to pierce the very heavens, visible even from tens of miles away. It shook the gods themselves, who descended upon the earth."
Dany spoke calmly, but Jon and Aemon's faces twisted. The corners of their mouths twitched, and their eyes practically screamed: Keep bragging! Anyone who believes you is an idiot!
She raised an eyebrow and asked, "You don't believe me?"
"It's just too exaggerated—completely divorced from reality. It's impossible to believe!" Old Aemon smacked his lips and said fairly.
Barristan spoke solemnly, "It's true. I was there at the time and even fought a battle against a god. At first, I was ready to charge in and cut him down! Fortunately, Her Majesty stopped me."
What the old knight really meant was: If I'd charged, I would've been dead for sure. Being alive to talk to you now is thanks to Her Majesty's wise intervention.
But in Jon and Aemon's eyes, the once fearless and upright Barristan had completely changed—now full of flattery and boasting, shamelessly trying to polish his own image.
Cut down a god?! Ordinary people wouldn't even dare brag like that, yet this legendary Kingsguard said it with a straight face.
Jon decided not to expose their outrageous bragging. After all, they were all big shots. So, he shifted the topic: "Do I need to learn sorcery?"
"Most wargs rely on instinct to communicate with animals. As long as you don't reject your wolf-spirit identity, it should be easy to find your direwolf. As for the warg meditation techniques, they definitely exist, but I don't know them."
At this point, Dany's expression shifted slightly, and she gave a curious smile. "Have you received any information from the glass candle?"
"Some strange runes..." Jon said thoughtfully.
"You can try practicing with it. No need to guard the gates tonight—stay in the hall and use the glass candle."
Jon, thinking the Dragon Queen was bestowing some priceless secret manual upon him, quickly and joyfully agreed: "Thank you, Your Majesty!"
He had no idea what consequences might come from the prophesied "child of destiny" turning into a shadowbinder...
"Your Majesty, I see you communicate with your dragons effortlessly. Are you a warg too?" Barristan asked curiously.
"No. A warg's soul enters an animal's body and takes over completely, regardless of the animal's own will. The body becomes a human's to command, like a man transforming into another form.
But my control over Drogon relies on commands—he fully understands me, yet retains his own independent will.
It's like when I ask you to do something—you can understand, but whether you obey depends on your choice. You might comply, you might refuse, or you might pretend to obey while secretly disobeying.
Also, my soul cannot enter wolves, shadowcats, or any other beasts. Apart from dragons, I can't control any animals."
"Wargs sound... kind of evil," Jon frowned.
"A profession is neutral—whether it's good or evil depends entirely on what you do with it."
My dear nephew, once you become a shadowbinder, you'll understand just how pure and kind wargs truly are.
The next morning, the wind had died and the snow had stopped. Sunshine bathed the land, the sky was a clear blue, and the Wall stood like a giant crystal between heaven and earth, reflecting a beautiful halo of rainbow light.
Even better for the Night's Watch, as Dany had predicted, the wildling army did not launch another attack.
However, at Her Majesty's firm insistence, the Night's Watch reluctantly released a wildling captive.
The wildling carried a parchment sealed with the three-headed dragon crest, bearing a message from the Dragon Queen proposing a three-way summit: Night's Watch, Wildlings, and Dragon Queen.
Since the weather was so clear and visibility was high, after breakfast, Dany mounted Drogon and flew deep beyond the Wall, maintaining an altitude of over a thousand meters, intending to search for the legendary White Walkers.
(End of Chapter)
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