The words hung between them.
The master stared down at the flowers as though seeing something far beyond them.
“And those who come to him in servitude and faith shall be rewarded. They shall know power. They shall know knowledge. They shall stand beside him until the end of days as rulers of entire cities, not like insects crawling in the dark, but as those among the most powerful; we could rule the world.”
For a moment, he sounded almost entranced.
Draqen stared at him, unease and fascination twisting together in his chest.
“I saw none of this in my visions, including his arrival. Such a power, although felt strongly, should have appeared in my visions,” Draqen said.
The master did not answer.
“None of him,” Draqen pressed, stepping closer despite himself.
“Not even the smallest hint. We always see signs of these things in the water, but now nothing. And the rituals should have revealed something. Our foresight should have pierced some semblance of the past and even the future. But not this future. How could that be?”
His voice sharpened, etiquette slipping from him entirely.
“How could he escape us?”
The question was blunt, but it was a valid one.
It was a question that not even the master could answer fully.
Draqen was not merely another servant.
He was a member of the council, the master’s right hand, and one of the few men permitted to speak with such dangerous honesty.
The master was silent for a few breaths.
Then he said, “His power has blinded us to the truth of it.”
The older man finally turned.
His face was calm, but his eyes shone with clarity.
“We have achieved a lot in piercing the veil of time, but we still have many things yet to learn. The aether could transcend all, yet our crude understanding of it has only scratched the surface,” he said.
“A candle may be seen in a dark room. A torch may be seen across a field. But stand before the sun, Draqen, and tell me what shape it has. Tell me where its edges begin. Tell me how a man is meant to see anything while blinded by its glory.” Read the latest chapters at novelping dot com.
Draqen remained quiet once more.
“The rituals were inconsequential because he was too powerful for them,” the master said softly.
“Neither did I. But I saw something else…. I saw worlds beyond ours, armies upon armies, massive constructs of iron and steel, and before them all stood a man with red hair and blue eyes. I looked at him, and he looked back. He stared at me and he called my name. We need to meet him; his invitations are not a prelude for harm but a calling for us to take charge of our fates, and he is willing to guide us to it.” The old man stood up and turned to face the 42-year-old man.
His face was full of wrinkles, but he had a certain physical strength in his stature.
This was Qarro Nestoris, antiquarian; a wealthy merchant; patron of obscure religious studies; sorcerer supreme; investor in shipping ventures; and leader of the Order of the Covenant.
The Order of the Covenant is a mysterious and ancient religious order, established in Braavos since the city’s creation, although its influence is subtly felt well beyond the borders of the Free Cities.
In public it is known by another name, pretending to be a philosophical and benevolent society dedicated to knowledge, discipline, power, and the search for a “higher truth.” It frequently attracts into its circle wealthy benefactors, merchants, lords, intellectuals, and roaming mystics, many of whom consider it to be but one obscure Braavosi cult among countless others.
But in reality the Order worshipped the Force but named it something else: the Aether.
To its members, the Aether was not just an invisible force but a supernatural cosmic intellect that was intertwined through all living things.
The few psychically attuned felt it provided visions, intuition, whispers of fate and power to the worthy enough to seek communication with it.
Here they were not altogether incorrect, but their knowledge was dangerously inadequate.
Over generations the veneration of the Order has turned to ambition.
Its leaders began to choose the darker flows of the Aether, mistaking hunger, dominion, and terror for hallowed revelation.
They harnessed its power via ceremony, manipulation, and information that was held jealously.
Not for enlightenment, but for riches, influence, and covert authority.
Worship had become a weapon, and what they termed “communion” was the first step on the road to corruption.
The overwhelming majority of the Order’s followers possess no supernatural ability whatsoever.
Ninety-five percent of them were normal, with the exception of four.
And at the apex of these four stood Qarro, otherwise known as the Master.
Unlike most of his lower followers, he possesses genuine supernatural capability, limited but real.
Through obscure rites and ancient practices, he has learned to perceive fragments of possible futures, influence weak minds, and occasionally perform acts that appear miraculous and insidious to common people.
To his disciples, he is regarded as the living voice of the Covenant itself and its chosen.
The other three formed the inner hand of the Order.
First among them was Draqen, Qarro’s right hand and most trusted disciple, a potent sorcerer trained by Qarro himself.
Beside him stood Malekith of Asshai, a man steeped in shadowed learning and foreign mysteries, and Verin of Tolos, a ritual mage who had immersed himself in both the Aether and the fire magic of the world.
Verin, in particular, possessed knowledge most men would kill to obtain.
He understood the hidden means by which life could be lengthened beyond its natural span, though such methods demanded sacrifice and were never without cost.
The remaining ninety-five percent of the Order were ordinary men and women.
They were not sorcerers, seers, or vessels of hidden power, but merchants, patrons, servants, scribes, sellswords, minor nobles, and desperate seekers drawn together by faith, ambition, fear, or longing.
Yet through ritual, meditation, blood offerings, narcotics, and ancient ceremonies preserved across centuries, many came to believe they had touched something divine.
The ultimate power of the Order was not in armies, fleets, or open conquest, but in infiltration and influence.
It lived by stealth via the secret arteries of power, banking, counting houses, trade guilds, regal courts, temples, brothels, merchant fleets, and clandestine meetings where the wealthy decided the future of a small island on the other side of the world that held valuable goods.
Qarro dropped his voice.
“This secret has to be kept between us,” he said.
“I’ll tell the other three myself. As to the council, they are to stay completely outside the portrait. We must keep our discoveries secret.”
“Meanwhile, we must also make preparations to go west. To the north.” Nestoris said.
“We will find him there. The chosen one”