"Mr. Jeong, are you okay? You suddenly seem.... distracted." "I-I'm...fine, it's.... fine," Sung-ho answered somehow, his hands were shaking because of that ugly memory. He pressed his hands together forcefully under the desk, ignoring the pain running through his nerves Choi Dea looked at him with slight worry, wondering why he was sweating so hard. After he explained everything what happened with her sister and him, even though she wasn't sure whether it was truth or not, her expression softened a bit. She also noticed how he had reacted when she had mentioned his father Shi-woo. So she assumed that the relationship between Mafia son and father might not be good "Thank you for your explanation about Joo-eun," she said after a moment. "And I would prefer if you don't tell about this incident to anybody. Ever. Sung-ho frowned a little. "Urm, sure. She glanced at the bracelet again which her friend had given it to her when she was little. Even though she couldn't remember that,
Leafstone The Capital of Imperium He angrily smashed the black cat with his bare hands. "That could be a spirit, you know." A young golden-haired women, wearing a long tempting, transparent white robe and a necklace made of pink pearls around her neck, said behind him. "You're no witch," he snarled, wiping the blood from his bear hands with a linen rag. "Neither are you, My Lord." The man eyed her with astonishment, which was more than vexation. He reached to her boldly and grabbed her from back, grasping her slim waist. "Do I need to remind you who you are, Alvina?" He brush his stubbly chin roughly against her smooth white neck, poking the pearls. "No, My Lord." "But you will accept your punishment tonight. You already assumed that, didn't you?" "Forgive me, My Lord," she gasped quietly. The place they were standing, was a beautiful garden and it was dimly shining by the new moonlight. Various fragrant smelling flowers - Aster, Hellebore, Dianthus were blossomin
"Do you think our battalion will win?" "I don't know. Will we?" "Do you think I can die in the war?" "I don't know. Is it not your life?" "Are you worried about my life now?" "I am not sure. Should I be?" Alexander slowly let out a frustrated sigh, his gaze fell down at his son. He often wondered why his own blood was like this, who neither had any interest in war strategy, nor people around him. His only son Jordan was going to seventeen years old after two moon, his beginning to become a man. But he was always so inattentive about the things around him, except nature, which made his father slightly concerned. "Commander Alexander!" someone knocked at the door thrice, the voice sounded restless. "Come in," Alexander declared. A middle-aged senior soldier Amro hurriedly paced into the hall room with his heavy boots. He looked like a storm had gone over him, his outfit was covered with
At the same night, Hadassah had started a big fire at the middle of the Battle of Blood, while she was in the possession of little Celandine's body. The large vessel on the fire was filled with the sacred water for witches from Black Lake. It was an inaccessible lake inside a forest, only who had witch blood in their veins, could approach there. Beside the pyre, there were some ingredients which she would need to return back to her true self."Bonesbane," she muttered and picked up the tiniest bowl contained with a few bone shaped dark green leaves. She stared at the boiling black water for a while, then dropped the leaves into it and chanted, "Confundo." The flames exploded around the pyre when the leaves touched the water, her ragged breath quickened. She took a sharp intake and knelt in front of the pyre and picked up the next ingredient."Blood Soil," she muttered and poured the brown soil and tiny pebbles into t
Olgarias was awkwardly sitting on the back of a beautiful white horse, the reason of his uneasiness was he had always been bad at riding, the horses didn't seem to like him. Beside him, his private servant Ran was riding at another black, dangerous looking horse, he was grasping the belt skillfully with one hand, another one was holding up a lamp."Do we have to look around this place? What is the point of coming here in this dark, eh?" Olgarias said with slight annoyance, many things were going on his mind. His father had just died, it had been only three hours, already his brothers' armies were preparing for a battle to sit or seize the throne. Ravens just brought messages to every castle that tomorrow there would be a battle between his twin eldest brothers, Nrikawn and Moriah."I can see in the dark, Prince Olgarias. Allow me to bind this lamp with the belt of your horse, so you can see clearly," Ran politely spoke, extending the large lamp, which was
Moriah was gazing at his reflection. His tight black armor was made from iron, the breastplate was lined with transmuted thin craft of gold, the symbol of his army Wolf was carved in the left side of the plate. He saw his gesture in the mirror, as cold as always, two piercing and cruel eyes, small stubble around his chin. He blinked, slightly wondering why he was looking at himself, it was unlike of him.It was also a big day for him. He moved to corner of his room, stooping beside the giant bed. There was a mark on the golden wall, just like a small scratch of nails, it couldn't be shown if someone didn't look carefully. He took a deep breath and pressed his palm over the scratch, to reveal his secret chamber under the ground. Since, it was going to be a great day for him, he would want to have a talk with his Lord. With a buzzing sound, a passage emerged behind the wall, there were dusty staircases going down. Moriah picked u
Celandine rubbed her eyes idly, she was still feeling ridiculously sleepy. She extended her hands on the bed and yawned, moving her body to the other side. The pillow was so soft and felt comfy, the bed cover over her body felt smooth and warm. She could smell of just made bacon and beef, the smell was so intoxicating, at that moment, her stomach declared that it was craving for food.'Wait,' she opened her eyes, feeling weird. "Where the hell am I?" she mumbled. Her memories were all blurry, all she could remember was the image of Hadassah had stepped out from that magical pyre. The moment she recalled her face, hatred and rage appeared in her eyes. She looked around the room, it was neat and big sized, also well decorated with stylish furniture and expensive materials. She wondered if someone kind had found her somewhere or saved her from that witch. Her gaze fell on the wound of her wrist, it was bandaged welly. She nearly lost all of her
Hadassah left off her invisibility spell and moved her veil over her face. She thought that it was totally a waste of her time to watch that two secret love birds all roaming over each other. She already decided that Alvina had to die, but a tiny portion of her mind was protesting that it could be done later."Lady, what are you doing here?" A gentle looking warrior asked her in a worried tone, standing next to her. "This is a battle, M'lady, not the place for you wandering. Go to home!""I....I am....." she was slightly perplexed at this man's sudden appearance. She could hear the gloomy howling of wounded fighters far away from here, she quickly made a lie. "I.....I am...a Healer, Ser.""You are a Healer?" The warrior glanced at her up and down with suspicion.Hadassah pulled her veil more, not wanting to give this man a chance to see her face. He could be looking kind hearted, but she had many experiences from her previous life, they taught her t
"Mr. Jeong, are you okay? You suddenly seem.... distracted." "I-I'm...fine, it's.... fine," Sung-ho answered somehow, his hands were shaking because of that ugly memory. He pressed his hands together forcefully under the desk, ignoring the pain running through his nerves Choi Dea looked at him with slight worry, wondering why he was sweating so hard. After he explained everything what happened with her sister and him, even though she wasn't sure whether it was truth or not, her expression softened a bit. She also noticed how he had reacted when she had mentioned his father Shi-woo. So she assumed that the relationship between Mafia son and father might not be good "Thank you for your explanation about Joo-eun," she said after a moment. "And I would prefer if you don't tell about this incident to anybody. Ever. Sung-ho frowned a little. "Urm, sure. She glanced at the bracelet again which her friend had given it to her when she was little. Even though she couldn't remember that,
"I don't recall as we did." Giant was no more than five feet tall-his true name was Bedwyck-but a fierce little man for all that. "Slayer, did you ask Craster for his counsel?" Sam cringed at the name, but shook his head. He filled another spoon, brought it to Bannen's mouth, and tried to ease it between his lips. "Food and fire," Giant was saying, "that was all we asked of you. And you grudge us the food." "Be glad I didn't grudge you fire too." Craster was a thick man made thicker by the ragged smelly sheepskins he wore day and night. He had a broad flat nose, a mouth that drooped to one side, and a missing ear. And though his matted hair and tangled beard might be grey going white, his hard knuckly hands still looked strong enough to hurt. "I fed you what I could, but you crows are always hungry. I'm a godly man, else I would have chased you off. You think I need the likes of him, dying on my floor? You think I need all your mouths, little man?" The wildling spat. "Crows. When d
Celandine observed the man curiously who just came out from the chamber, going downstairs. She noticed the small hand batch on his black robe, wondering what that might be meaning. Suddenly everything around her changed. They traveled dawn to dusk, past woods and orchards and neatly tended fields, through small villages, crowded market towns, and stout holdfasts. Come dark, they would make camp and eat by the light of the moon and the lamps. The men took turns standing watch. Celandine would glimpse firelight flickering through the trees from the camps of other travelers. There seemed to be more camps every night, and more traffic on the kingsroad by day. She somehow knew it was a dream. Morning, noon, and night they came, old folks and little children, big men and small ones, barefoot girls and women with babes at their breasts. Some drove farm wagons or bumped along in the back of ox carts. More rode: draft horses, ponies, mules, donkeys, anything that would walk or run or rol
She was grubbing for vegetables in a dead man's garden when she heard the singing. Arya stiffened, still as stone, listening, the three stringy carrots in her hand suddenly forgotten. She thought of the Bloody Mummers and Roose Bolton's men, and a shiver of fear went down her back. It's not fair, not when we finally found the Trident, not when we thought we were almost safe. Only why would the Mummers be singing? The song came drifting up the river from somewhere beyond the little rise to the east. "Off to Gulltown to see the fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho . . . " Arya rose, carrots dangling from her hand. It sounded like the singer was coming up the river road. Over among the cabbages, Hot Pie had heard it too, to judge by the look on his face. Gendry had gone to sleep in the shade of the burned cottage, and was past hearing anything. "I'll steal a sweet kiss with the point of my blade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho." She thought she heard a woodharp too, beneath the soft rush of the river.
The morning air was dark with the smoke of burning goods. The old dry wood and countless layers of paint and varnish blazed with a fierce hungry light. Heat rose shimmering through the chill air; behind, the gargoyles and stone dragons on the castle walls seemed blurred, as if Moriah were seeing them through a veil of tears. Or as if the beasts were trembling, stirring . . "An ill thing," Hadassah declared, though at least she had the sense to keep her voice low "Silence," said Moriah. "Remember where you are. They were heading to the Garde Hundreds had come to the battle gates to bear witness to the burning of the Battle of Blood. The smell in the air was ugly. Even for soldiers, it was hard not to feel uneasy at such an affront to the gods most had worshiped all their live Moriah was thinking about his ancestors. They had overturned the altars, pulled down the statues, and smashed the stained glass with warhammers. The old Hand could only curse them, but Ser Hubard Rambton led
few of the lords lingered to speak in quiet voices upwind of the fire. They fell silent when they saw looking at them. Should Stannis fall, they will pull me down in an instant. Neither was he counted one of the queen's men, that group of ambitious knights and minor lordlings who had given themselves to this Lord of Light and so won the favor and patronage of Lady—no, Queen, remember?—Selyse. The fire had started to dwindle by the time Myra and the squires departed with the precious sword. Ezekiel and his son joined the crowd making its way down to the shore and the waiting ships. "Devan acquitted himself well," he said as they went. "He fetched the glove without dropping it, yes," said Dale. Allard nodded. "That badge on Devan's doublet, the fiery heart, what was that Black Horn sigil is a crowned stag." "A lord can choose more than one badge," Myra said. Dale smiled. "A black ship and an onion, Father?" Allard kicked at a stone. "The Others take our onion . . . and that flamin
"I don't recall as we did." Giant was no more than five feet tall-his true name was Bedwyck-but a fierce little man for all that. "Slayer, did you ask Craster for his counsel?" Sam cringed at the name, but shook his head. He filled another spoon, brought it to Bannen's mouth, and tried to ease it between his lips. "Food and fire," Giant was saying, "that was all we asked of you. And you grudge us the food." "Be glad I didn't grudge you fire too." Craster was a thick man made thicker by the ragged smelly sheepskins he wore day and night. He had a broad flat nose, a mouth that drooped to one side, and a missing ear. And though his matted hair and tangled beard might be grey going white, his hard knuckly hands still looked strong enough to hurt. "I fed you what I could, but you crows are always hungry. I'm a godly man, else I would have chased you off. You think I need the likes of him, dying on my floor? You think I need all your mouths, little man?" The wildling spat. "Crows. When d
Somebody is brushing hairs from my forehead. Then nudging my shoulder. "Sam, wake up," a voice tells softly. A Male voice. I am feeling confused. There's no male person in our home. Then who is it? I try to open my eyes, but can't, because sunlight is hitting me. Who the hell opened the damn curtains of the damn window? I raise my hands to cover my eyes, but something is in them. Something muddy. Wait...I'm not in home, am I? "Sam," that voice tells again. I snap my eyes open. A strong face welcomes me. I adjust myself in a seated position, glancing around. Who is this guy? Shit! I fell asleep on the mountain top. All the night. I squint at the sunlight, not feeling as panicked as others should be. "Who are you?" I look at his blue eyes. "I can ask you the same question," he replies. I yawn, staring at my hands which are covered with soil. So do my clothes. "You're not the fast who slept here all the night." He sits beside me, glancing oddly. "What time is
Lynn Vandestine He pushes the door open of his new studi Painting has always been his hobby, but it is his first time to open a workshop like this. When he was in his adolescence, it wasn't one of his pleasant times. In order to lighten his mood, he used to climb up at the top of his favourite mountain, with papers and paints in the backpack. Often, he brushed colors gently on the canvas, while thinking if a girl would appear in front of him just like that drawin Now, the place can catch a plenty of natural light, one of the reason why he bought this. The layout is flexible, it's enough big for his work. The paintings around the studio are mostly portraits, but he drew some landscapes, too, tried to do another genr "Hi, Tom!" he greets the guy, who is moving his brush with so much attention, benting towards the easel. Tom is a local artist and a student of art college, once Lynn helped his big brother with a mission, so he knew him a little. When Lynn needed an assistant for