Black wings bring black words.
A raven from King's Landing swooped down upon the Lannister caravan, its dark feathers a harbinger of ill tidings.
The news spread through the camp like wildfire—Jon Arryn, Hand of the King, Lord of the Eyrie, Protector of the Vale, and Warden of the East, had suddenly succumbed to a mysterious illness.
Joffrey felt a flutter of surprise in his chest; he hadn't expected the Hand to perish quite so swiftly, having calculated at least a sennight or two remaining to the old man.
I should count myself fortunate that I did not delay, he thought, grateful he had already conveyed the necessary information to Lord Tywin, thus securing House Lannister's support.
Had I allowed Stark to receive that poisonous seed of discord hidden within the secret letter, wresting their strength would have proven far more troublesome.
The caravan continued its measured progress along the Kingsroad, wheels creaking against packed earth, banners snapping in the wind.
Due to matters that could not be spoken aloud, the Lannister siblings and Lord Tywin maintained their wary silence, minds churning with calculation and contingency.
Until King Robert's disposition became clear, the caravan would likely maintain its present course, neither hastening nor diverting.
Joffrey retreated to his private quarters to continue his research, fingers drumming against the polished wood of his desk.
Which to study first—the greatsword or the glass candle? He hesitated but a moment before deciding. Best to pursue the project with clearer expected returns.
"Hanna," he called, his voice carrying the easy authority of one born to command, "bring me the glass candle."
Of all the treasures plundered from the vault, only the greatsword remained stubbornly inscrutable. Valyrian steel was legendary, of course, and like the glass candle with its intricate patterns, it was undoubtedly a tool of magic with specific properties.
The function of gems and crystals had already revealed itself—they provided some manner of energy for magical workings.
But this particular greatsword showed nothing remarkable; it neither offered energy for other magic nor displayed any visible changes during his examinations, leaving him at a loss for how to proceed.
Though his curiosity gnawed at him like a hungry rat, more pressing matters demanded his attention.
Over the past two days, through rigorous practice and contemplation, drawing upon existing information and hard-won data, he had constructed a temporary framework for understanding magic:
Gems, crystals, and other "sensing sources" that only he could perceive absorbed and stored a certain magical energy that proved difficult to harness directly—this energy he had temporarily named "Source Energy."
The nature, origin, quantity, and effects of this "Source Energy" remained shrouded in mystery.
Valyrian steel and other "light-emitting sources" that could both be sensed and emit a visible glow could absorb "Source Energy" and transmute it into a usable magical force; this second type of energy he had dubbed "Magic Energy."
The white light that mended damaged Valyrian steel and healed wounds was specifically "Recovery Magic Energy."
More precisely, what he truly sensed was "Source Energy," while that which could both be perceived and emit light was "Magic Energy"—the physical items themselves were mere vessels, ordinary carriers for extraordinary power.
And the "converter" that transformed Source Energy into Magic Energy was not the visible patterns themselves, but rather the unknown "force" that lay behind them.
Joffrey gave this force an ancient name—Rune.
He noted with interest that the Rune consumed nothing when converting Source Energy into Magic Energy, but creating and splitting new sub-Runes required the expenditure of its own essence—that invisible, cold energy that whispered against his consciousness.
This precious cold force he named "Rune Energy."
Unlike Source Energy and Magic Energy, thus far he could only sense the Rune Energy he personally possessed; he remained powerless to detect Rune Energy in other magical artifacts.
When he had used the Recovery Rune to create Valyrian steel previously, he had briefly sensed the Rune Energy during the transfer process—that distinctive coldness that slipped between his thoughts like winter's breath.
What he had previously believed to be a special sense for the Rune itself weakened with the consumption of Rune Energy. In other words, it was actually a perception of the Rune Energy contained within the Rune, not a sense of the Rune's true nature.
This realization rendered the Rune a wholly ethereal concept. It could not be directly sensed, nor could its true structure be observed, vastly increasing the difficulty of his research.
Fortunately, there remained the patterns.
Though these patterns were merely Magic Energy flowing along prescribed paths dictated by the Rune's needs—a distorted projection of the invisible Rune—they provided a crucial window.
It was precisely through these patterns that Joffrey could indirectly touch the Rune, and through a convergence of chance and determination, obtain mastery over it and glimpse the mysteries of magic that had eluded generations.
Then there was his first use of the Recovery Rune three days past.
Joffrey felt a surge of satisfaction as he realized that the propagation and advancement of magic was not as insurmountable as he had feared.
At the very least, it was not so challenging that magic's influence upon the world need be negligible.
Taking himself as evidence, the Recovery Rune could not only absorb Source Energy and convert it to Recovery Magic Energy but also continuously generate Rune Energy, creating other items bearing the Recovery Rune. Most remarkably, it could grow alongside his soul, twining itself into the very fabric of his being.
This last aspect was perhaps the most wondrous; it seemed the soul provided sustenance for the Rune to flourish, while the Rune, in turn, offered the soul strength to grow more powerful.
Perhaps Rune Energy is some manner of derivative or variant of soul power itself, he mused, the thought both thrilling and disquieting.
Returning to the matter at hand.
Given the accumulation rate of Rune Energy, Joffrey estimated he could create one or two pieces of Valyrian steel each day, or heal two or three minor injuries. The impact of magic was already profound.
Yet this raised a perplexing question: by such calculations, Valyrian steel should not be so vanishingly rare.
There existed hundreds of Valyrian steel weapons throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and likely thousands across the known world; he alone could double this number within a decade.
Could it truly be that only a handful of mages existed in each generation of Valyrians?
This was patently absurd. As a lost magical civilization, Valyria's mastery of the arcane arts must have been far more widespread, their command of such forces woven into the very fabric of their society.
This was, therefore, likely not a limitation of the Valyrians themselves, but rather some peculiarity of his own situation.
Is my Rune growing at an unnatural pace?
Or does my method carry hidden, significant costs I have yet to discover?
Perhaps they did not possess Runes within their consciousness at all, but employed entirely different means to harness magical power?
As this thought formed, he immediately recognized a critical blind spot in his reasoning.
Seven hells! Why have I always assumed others also possess Runes?
Previously, he had subconsciously presumed that others experienced magic as he did, attributing its decline to the rarity and difficulty of observing Runes. He had not questioned this presumption deeply enough.
But now that the idea had taken root, and recalling what little was known of magic in this world, the answer seemed suddenly, blindingly clear.
From all practical manifestations he had witnessed or heard tell of, the ways in which this world employed magic were diverse—spells, mediums, rituals, dreams, artifacts, blood sacrifice, life and death...
There existed countless methods, yet none described magic manifesting at the mere direction of thought.
The magic known to the world was not only labyrinthine and obscure but lacked both precision of effect and certainty of outcome. Luck and happenstance played outsized roles—traits wholly inconsistent with the reliable, predictable effects of his Runes.
In terms of difficulty, though Joffrey could only perceive the distorted patterns projected by the Rune, this alone seemed to represent an unrivaled talent in this world.
Even so, he had been forced to meditate deeply upon these patterns in his dreams, completely consuming dozens of Runes before successfully taking his first step. Those who could not see the patterns at all would find such magic entirely beyond their reach.
My Rune is likely unique, he realized with a quiet thrill.
The magic employed by others was perhaps merely an empirical application of Runes or secondary forces. They did not truly comprehend the Runes or the more fundamental magical principles, rendering their magic both complex and difficult to control.
Could it be that in this world, specific actions, sounds, or phenomena can trigger the power of the Rune without true understanding?
Only after encountering other practitioners of the arcane arts could he hope to answer such questions.
"Your Highness, the glass candle."
Hanna approached with careful steps, holding the artifact with both hands as though it were spun from the thinnest silk. This treasure appeared deceptively fragile, and she had no desire to be the one who broke it.
Joffrey took it from her hands and examined it with meticulous attention, turning it slowly in the candlelight.
This was a magical tool explicitly mentioned in the histories he had studied.
Fashioned in the shape of a candle, it was crystal clear yet emanated a mysterious black light from within. Crafted from the famed dragonglass, it earned its name "glass candle" from its translucent appearance, though dragonglass was no true glass.
Dragonglass—known also as obsidian—had been called "frozen fire" by the Valyrians. It was said to inflict grievous harm upon the Others who commanded ice magic.
During his time in King's Landing, Joffrey had specifically sought out ordinary dragonglass and discovered that, like gems and crystals, it could automatically absorb and store Source Energy.
Is Source Energy itself anathema to the Others? he wondered.
At any rate, the Valyrians had harnessed dragonglass to craft these remarkable glass candles.
The sorcerers of the ancient Valyrian Freehold were said to use these candles to send their sight across mountains, seas, and deserts. Seated before such a candle, they could intrude upon the dreams of others to display visions, or communicate across half the known world in an instant.
Even these known functions set Joffrey's modern soul aflame with possibility.
Magic satellites, dream realms, instantaneous communication—these are the fundamental building blocks of a magical network!
Could I be the Lord of the Magic Networl itself? The thought sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine, a future so bright it nearly blinded his mind's eye.
After dismissing his servants with a wave of his hand, he immediately focused his thoughts to commune with the Recovery Rune nestled within his consciousness, while simultaneously attempting to meditate upon the intricate patterns adorning the glass candle.
Can the Rune Energy of different Runes be employed universally?
He sensed the answer hovering just beyond his grasp, tantalizingly close.
The Rune Energy concealed within the Recovery Rune must—must—be capable of constructing an entirely new Rune.
And with that, the path forward illuminated itself before him, clear as daybreak after the longest night.
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