Skyrim System In Westeros

In the year 282 AC, Robert's betrothed, Lyanna Stark, was abducted by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Enraged, Lyanna's brother, Brandon Stark, stormed into the Red Keep in King's Landing, demanding justice from the king and declaring that Rhaegar should come out and face him.

Before the situation could be clarified—and considering that threatening the life of a prince was a grave crime—King Aerys ordered Brandon and his northern entourage arrested. As all of them were nobles, the king demanded their fathers come south to King's Landing to resolve the matter, keeping things relatively normal at first.

However, once the fathers arrived, Aerys descended into madness. Without trials, he had them all executed. Those killed included the Lord of Winterfell and his heir, the Lord of Deepwood Motte and his heir, the heir to the Lord of the Vale, the Lord of Runestone and his heir, and the Lord of Seagard.

The news of these executions sent shockwaves throughout the Seven Kingdoms. To kill great lords and their heirs without trial was an unprecedented abuse of power. Even the high-ranking lords barely had time to utter a word before being executed.

Jon Arryn, who arrived later, narrowly escaped the same fate. When the king demanded that he surrender Robert and Eddard, the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands—regions long bound by ties of friendship and intermarriage—stood united in rebellion. Jon Arryn, as Robert and Eddard's foster father, raised his banners in open defiance of the king. The bannermen of the North, Vale, and Riverlands swiftly answered his call, assembling their armies. Meanwhile, the Reach and Dorne declared their support for the crown, while the Westerlands and the Iron Islands withheld any public declarations of loyalty. A war engulfing the entire continent was now unavoidable.

Within the Vale, factions divided between royal loyalists and rebels. Under the leadership of Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark, the rebels defeated the royalist forces in Gulltown. Eddard then returned to the North to rally his bannermen.

Robert raced back to Storm's End in the Stormlands, gathering his bannermen to join the rebellion. Across the Stormlands, banners were raised, and men flocked to Storm's End. The castle and its surroundings became a hive of military activity, with tents sprawling across the fields. Within the castle walls, armored soldiers and commanders moved constantly, while the ringing of hammers from the blacksmiths repairing weapons and armor echoed day and night.

Late at night, Robert, Stannis, and their bannermen concluded their war council. As the lords dispersed, Wright led a sleepy Renly into the room.

Wright gestured for a private conversation, waiting until everyone else had left. The four Baratheon brothers—Robert, Stannis, Renly, and Wright—sat together.

"What's on your mind, Wright?" Robert asked, his voice weary. He looked utterly exhausted. While he thrived in tournaments, commanding an army was an entirely different beast. As lord of Storm's End, Robert was now forced to deal with matters of governance and strategy, roles he detested. He would rather lead charges into battle than plan them.

Stannis, though more accustomed to administrative duties, was similarly overwhelmed. Managing the logistics of a full-scale war was far beyond anything he had ever faced before.

"Do either of you know much about magic?" Wright asked, his expression unusually serious.

Robert frowned. "I've heard that forging Valyrian steel requires magic, and they say Storm's End was built with it. But we've never seen anything truly magical here. Why are you asking about this now?"

"Magic has long been lost," Stannis replied, his tone flat. "I've seen a few so-called magical items before, but they were nothing more than cheap tricks—glowing lights and strange sounds."

Wright turned to Robert, his expression serious.

"Valyrian steel can be reforged once its techniques are understood. Blacksmiths in Qohor, for example, have mastered this skill. But creating Valyrian steel from ordinary iron requires magical forges and enchantments."

Then, he shifted his focus to Stannis.

"Magic draws its power from the world's magical energy. For centuries, this energy was in decline, and magic faded from the world. But now, the tides have turned—magic is returning. As the flow of magical energy strengthens, there will be more people capable of wielding true magic. However, magical items are not indestructible. Powerful ones can be destroyed by equally potent magical forces, leaving behind only trinkets with minor enchantments."

"How can you be so sure?" Both Robert and Stannis looked at him skeptically. If anyone else had said such things, Robert would've kicked them out of the room, and Stannis might have ordered the guards to dunk their head in water to bring them back to reality. But this was their younger brother, so they restrained themselves and listened.

Wright stood up but found himself still shorter than the table. Climbing onto his chair, he unsheathed the small dagger at his waist and sliced his left palm. Blood immediately welled and dripped onto the table.

"Are you mad?!" Robert reacted instantly, reaching out to grab Wright's hand, but Wright raised his right hand to stop him, shouting, "Renly!"

Renly, who had been struggling to stay awake as the conversation turned to magic, straightened at his brother's call. Watching Wright deliberately cut his own hand, Renly realized it was his moment to act.

Stretching out his hands, palms hovering near Wright's injury, Renly concentrated. Slowly, a glowing orange light appeared between his hands. As he pushed the light toward Wright's bleeding palm, the wound began to close rapidly, the blood drying and the flesh knitting back together. Within moments, the cut had completely healed. Wright wiped away the remaining blood with his sleeve, revealing a pristine, unscarred hand.

Robert and Stannis crowded around, inspecting Wright's hand, his sleeve, and then turning to examine Renly's hands as well. Their skepticism lingered—they were convinced it might be some sort of trick, but they could find no evidence of deception.

"Is this truly magic?" Stannis asked, his voice filled with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

"Of course, it's magic! This spell is called Healing Hands." Renly puffed out his chest, clearly expecting praise.

Wright patted Renly's shoulder in approval. "Renly's magic is something I taught him. He has an innate talent for healing and alteration spells."

Renly's Healing Hands ability was still at an apprentice level. While it allowed him to mend wounds, the process was only "slow" in comparison to more advanced spells. For minor injuries like a small cut, healing took mere moments. For more severe injuries—like broken bones or deep lacerations—it would require considerably more time.

When Wright first discovered that Renly possessed magical potential, he theorized that it was due to their bond as twins, which had passed the magical bloodline to him as well. Wright painstakingly transcribed several beginner-level magic books from memory, but Renly—who could barely read at the time—struggled to follow along. Patiently, Wright taught him to recognize letters and diagrams, guiding him step by step through the fundamentals of magical energy flow. After two months of effort, Renly successfully cast a simple light spell for the first time, an achievement that left him so ecstatic he couldn't sleep for three days.

After further study, Wright confirmed that Renly's primary magical aptitude lay in restoration magic, with a secondary talent in alteration magic. He had reached the apprentice level in restoration but was still a novice in alteration. As for destruction magic, Wright refrained from teaching it, fearing Renly might burn the house down. Additionally, Renly's Magicka reserves were less than a tenth of Wright's. Unlike Wright, Renly didn't have a system to allocate points to Magicka or skills. Everything he had achieved was through pure hard work and practice.

Robert, still skeptical, turned to Wright. "You taught Renly? Do you know other spells?"

Wright didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned around, conjuring a white orb of light in one hand and shooting it toward the ceiling. With his other hand, he formed a blue orb, which exploded in a shimmering cascade that surrounded him, forming a humanoid shield of glowing energy.

Then, leaping onto the table, he extended both hands forward. A violent wind, laced with shards of ice, erupted from his palms, slamming into the walls. The gust extinguished the room's candles, leaving only the orb of light on the ceiling to illuminate the room with a brightness surpassing that of the candles.

The icy wind was bone-chilling, rapidly covering the walls and furniture with a layer of frost. Wright turned and directed the stream toward the opposite wall and Robert's armor mounted on a wooden mannequin. In moments, the armor, too, was encased in thick ice.

Because they were in a closed space, the wind swirled chaotically, amplifying its ferocity. Ice shards flew through the air, cutting like blades. Renly climbed onto a chair, positioning himself in front of Robert and Stannis. He cast a protective barrier of restorative magic to shield them from the freezing onslaught.

When the icy storm finally subsided, two walls and much of the furniture were coated in solid ice. The rest of the room was strewn with frost and ice shards, transformed into a world of white. Wright turned back to his brothers, raising his hands. A red flame ignited in his left palm, while blue electricity crackled in his right.

"This is my magic."

Robert and Stannis stared in astonishment at the transformed room. At last, they fully accepted that their younger brothers were indeed magic users.

"Can Stannis and I learn magic too?" Robert asked cautiously, his tone hopeful.

Seeing the eager expressions on their faces, Wright sighed inwardly. Magicka was either present or absent—it couldn't be forced. He could only explain gently.

"I'm sorry. Renly and I are both in the exploratory stage of our magic. Historically, only those born with an affinity for magic could become mages through study. Even then, magical talent could skip generations. Unfortunately, neither of you has Magicka within you."

"Magic is a technique, but Magicka is the source that fuels it. Imagine Magicka as a tree. A clever person can chop the tree into firewood to provide warmth. Magic works similarly—if someone can sense Magicka and has the intellect to harness it, they can develop ways to cast spells."

Wright couldn't reveal that his knowledge of magic came from another world, but since this one did have a real source of Magicka, he fabricated a plausible explanation.

Though disappointed, Robert and Stannis seemed to accept the situation. Suddenly, Robert burst into laughter.

"In our generation, two out of four Baratheons are magic users. This proves that the Baratheon bloodline carries the potential for magical talent. Even if Stannis and I lack it, that doesn't mean our descendants won't have it. The more children we have, the higher the chance of producing another mage!"

Wright was stunned. Could Robert's infamous abundance of bastards later in life stem from this belief?