Skyrim System In Westeros

Jaime, noticing that the king remained silent and the cheering gold cloaks showed no sign of stopping, stepped down from the dais and addressed Wright.

"Ser Wright, after seeing you fight two opponents at once, I won't test my swordsmanship against yours. But I hear you know magic." Jaime stopped ten paces away and drew his longsword. "I'd like to see it in action."

Wright studied Jaime. The man possessed knightly honor and valued his reputation. His one fatal flaw was falling in love with his sister—a single misstep that had led to a cascade of poor decisions.

"If I use magic, you won't last a single strike."

Jaime had only read about magic in books and had never witnessed it himself. He cautiously shifted into a balanced stance, sword gripped in both hands, ready for attack or defense. "We won't know unless I try."

"As you wish."

Wright tucked the book in his left hand behind his back and raised his right hand. Magic surged forth, manifesting as blue lightning crackling around his arm and palm.

The gold cloaks watching from the sidelines immediately shouted, "Back! Back!" clearing the field to give them a wide berth.

This was the first time any of them had seen magic. Watching the blue lightning coil around Wright's hand, they instinctively retreated. On the dais, Robert straightened in his seat. He had seen Wright's magic when the boy was younger and had since learned more through the books Wright had written. He understood magic's potential for healing, support, and combat, but descriptions in texts from other regions were limited to auxiliary spells or enchanted objects. Robert was eager to see how Wright had grown in skill over the years.

Cersei and Joffrey leaned forward, straining to get a clearer view. The Kingsguard shifted closer, ready to shield the king if the situation escalated.

Jaime, seeing the blue lightning sparking in Wright's hand from ten paces away, immediately understood that this magic attack was likely ranged. Without hesitation, he charged forward.

Wright, however, redirected the lightning onto himself. It surged across his entire body, enveloping him in a web of crackling energy that filled the air with a constant sizzling hum.

Jaime stopped in his tracks, uncertain of how to proceed. The sight of Wright covered head to toe in lightning was unnerving. But reasoning that this was a sparring match, Jaime steeled himself, thinking it couldn't be too dangerous, and thrust his sword forward.

Wright stood motionless, watching Jaime through the veil of electricity.

The moment Jaime's blade was within half a body's length of Wright, a bolt of lightning leaped out on its own, striking Jaime and sending him flying backward. He landed five or six meters away.

Jaime hit the ground, unable to cry out as his body convulsed uncontrollably. His sword fell from his hand, and he could only twitch violently, sparks occasionally dancing across his armor.

A stunned silence fell over the crowd. Not a single person made a sound.

Wright raised his right hand again, this time a pale white aura encircled his palm. The aura began to radiate outward, linking his hand to Jaime's armored body. Slowly, Jaime was lifted into the air, suspended mid-air by the force of Wright's magic.

Using a telekinesis spell, Wright manipulated Jaime's armor, lifting him upright and halting his embarrassing spasms as he twitched on the ground.

"Don't hurt Jaime!" Cersei shouted as she saw her brother being hoisted aloft.

"Don't worry. Jaime is fine. I've restrained the magic to its weakest intensity," Wright replied calmly.

By the time he finished speaking, Jaime had stopped convulsing. Wright released the spell, allowing Jaime to drop to the ground. Jaime staggered but managed to steady himself.

"I'm fine."

"This is me holding back," Wright said, his tone even. "But if I unleashed my full power…"

He let the sentence hang in the air. The book he held floated upward, hovering behind him as his hands came together, mimicking the motion of shaping energy. Magic surged through his body and pooled in his hands, once again manifesting as blue lightning that coiled and snapped around his arms.

Wright extended his hands toward the distant tower of the Red Keep. Thick, intertwined bolts of lightning—each as wide as a man's arm—erupted from his palms, streaking across the training yard and slamming into the tower. The sound was deafening, a deep, thunderous roar that eclipsed anything heard before.

The bolts of lightning didn't dissipate as they would in a storm; instead, they continued to stream from Wright's hands, carving a glowing white scar across the tower's stone surface. The noise was so overwhelming that even those closest to Wright couldn't hear each other. The sheer force of the sound made their ears ache.

The training yard was bathed in an eerie blue light, the brilliance of the lightning almost painful to behold. Gold cloaks crouched low to the ground, covering their heads, as the bolts crackled ominously overhead.

When the lightning finally ceased, the training yard plunged back into normalcy, though the crowd's ears still rang from the onslaught. Far off, the side of the tower bore a bright, white Z-shaped mark scorched into the stone.

Even though this was only an intermediate spell, its effects were far more overwhelming than what Wright had imagined from descriptions in books or games. What would an advanced destruction spell look like? He couldn't help but wonder. Still, such a display came at a cost—his reserves of magic would take at least a month to replenish.

Wright wasn't done, though. Flames burst to life in his hands, swirling and growing until they formed a fireball the size of a barrel. The temperature around the training yard rose noticeably, though the spectators were far enough away not to feel the searing heat directly.

He aimed his hands at the tower. With a sharp motion, the fireball shot forth, streaking through the air before striking the tower's wall with an explosive force. A deafening boom echoed across King's Landing, followed by a brilliant cascade of flames that engulfed the tower's exterior. The entire structure seemed to glow, wrapped in a mantle of fire that spread in all directions.

Wright brought his hands together again, forming an orb of frost before him. The sweltering heat from the fireball vanished, replaced by a biting chill as a wintry frost seemed to envelop the training yard. Dense, white mist swirled around Wright, sinking toward the ground. The ice orb, silent in its flight, soared toward the tower and detonated upon impact. Instantly, the roaring flames were extinguished, and the tower's upper section became encased in glistening white ice.

The explosion of fire, lightning, and frost had drawn the attention of the city guard. Gold cloaks poured into the training yard, alarmed by the deafening sounds and blinding flashes of light. King Robert quickly commanded a few Kingsguard knights to maintain order, and the commotion was soon quelled.

The crowd fell silent as they turned their gazes to the tower. Its scorched, frost-covered surface bore witness to Wright's display of power. Whispers rippled through the gathered onlookers as they pointed at the tower, discussing the unbelievable strength of the magic they had just witnessed.

The book that had been hovering beside Wright gently floated back into his hands. With his head held high and his composure restored, Wright resumed his usual scholarly demeanor. In truth, he was utterly drained—this was the first time he had exhausted his magical reserves entirely. His legs felt weak, and it was all he could do to remain standing. Taking advantage of the confusion in the crowd, he nodded to Robert before retreating to his chambers.

Only after Wright had departed did the assembled onlookers begin to recover from their shock. A few dutiful guards hurried to inspect the tower for structural damage, but most remained rooted in place, exchanging exaggerated accounts of the magic they had witnessed.

Fire, frost, lightning—these elements were commonplace in nature, but to see them conjured from a man's body was a revelation many struggled to process. For years, magic had been little more than a myth, relegated to the pages of stories and legends. Now, faced with the undeniable reality, the spectators were left speechless.

Cersei rushed to Jaime's side, pulling him close as she checked for injuries. The Kingsguard closed ranks around Robert, who sat deep in thought. Though he had seen Wright wield magic as a child, this was the first time he had witnessed the full extent of his abilities. Whatever conclusions he drew, he kept to himself for the moment.

\---

Back in his chambers, Wright sat at his desk, carefully analyzing the performance of his spells and noting down his observations.

In games, fire magic couldn't even set a tree ablaze and rarely interacted with flammable materials. Frost spells lacked the chilling cold to condense air into mist. Lightning was faint, with dim flashes and muted sound effects. These limitations stemmed from the constraints of game development—balancing visual design, system performance, and artistic direction. Reality, however, adhered to natural laws, introducing countless unpredictable factors that amplified the perceived power of magic.

In practice, magic also faced limitations. For example, in games, a fireball would damage every enemy within its blast radius. In reality, the explosion's effect would be mitigated by obstacles like armored soldiers in the front ranks, leaving those behind largely unharmed. Even the front-line targets might sustain only superficial burns due to their armor, remaining combat-ready despite the blast.

Of course, Wright's written works contained none of these musings on game mechanics. Instead, they focused on practical observations and techniques for using magic. These volumes were destined for Renly Baratheon, carefully curated to pass down knowledge without revealing its origins.