CHAPTER 415: CHAPTER 415: EPILOGUE

The ship rocked violently in the storm, forcing Belier to stop writing his notes. Carefully adjusting the ink screen, he leaned against the wall, made his way to the nearby hammock, and lay down, letting his body sway gently with it as he waited quietly for the storm to pass.

"Was signing up for this expedition to the Origin the right choice or the wrong one?" Belier lay there, lost in thought.

If left to his own nature, he would have preferred a quiet life at home. As for expeditions and adventures, reading about them in the newspapers would have been more than enough.

Unfortunately, he had no choice but to sign up. Staying home would have meant getting married—to a woman he didn’t love.

Now that the expedition ship had passed the Stepstones and entered the Narrow Sea, he was beginning to feel a twinge of regret. Not because of the danger; although there had been casualties during the last two expeditions, they had been due to carelessness, not because the Origin itself was particularly perilous.

His true regret stemmed from the news that had come from the Imperial Capital as they passed the Stepstones: a permanent base was to be established at the Origin. Participants in the expedition would be required to stay at the base for at least three years—a far cry from the initial plan of just a few months.

Still, despite his dissatisfaction, there was nothing he could do. It was a direct order from His Majesty the Emperor, and thus beyond dispute.

"Farewell, my beautiful flowers..." he sighed aloud at the thought.

Just then, the tightly shut door swung open and a towering, broad-shouldered man entered. After glancing at Belier lying in the hammock, he closed the door behind him, grabbed a towel, and began drying the rain and seawater off his body as he asked in a deep voice, "Didn’t you say you were going to write your adventure notes? Why are you lying in the hammock?"

"Do you think I can write anything in this state?" Belier rolled his eyes and pointed at the swaying room.

The big man chuckled. "Aren’t all Maesters supposed to go through the Black Cave trial? I thought environments like this were nothing to you."

Belier shot back, "And what about you? All you divine chosen ones have undergone the Divine Emperor’s Trial. Shouldn’t you be able to withstand any harsh environment? So why are you wearing leather coats and cotton clothes?"

The big man simply smiled and didn’t argue further. He peeled off his soaked clothes, tossed them into a laundry basket, and changed into a dry set.

Sitting down on a wooden bed, his body swaying lightly with the ship, he retrieved a pipe and some tobacco from a leather pouch hanging by the bed. After lighting it and taking a few puffs, he said, "We should reach Blackwater Bay in two days. But the last expedition team reported that Blackwater Bay is frozen over. We might have to land near Crackclaw Point, travel overland, cross the Crownlands, and head to Old King’s Landing."

Belier listened silently. After a while, he asked somewhat abruptly, "By the way, we’ve been together for half a month, but I only know your first name is Jon. What’s your last name?"

The big man fell silent for a moment before answering, "Stark. My surname is Stark."

Hearing that, Belier froze. He sat up in the hammock, staring at Jon in shock. "Stark? The Starks of Zamettar?"

Jon nodded with a bitter smile.

Belier couldn’t help but take a closer look at his roommate.

In the Empire, the Stark family of Zamettar was among the highest of nobility—not just because they held a hereditary dukedom, but also because the Starks carried the blood of the Divine Emperor.

According to rumor, the founder of the Stark family of Zamettar, Sansa Stark, had been a paramour of the Divine Emperor. She had never married and had borne him a child, who later became Eddard Stark, the White Wolf of Winterfell.

For the past three centuries, House Stark of Zamettar had maintained exceptionally close ties with the Divine Emperor’s royal family, including several intermarriages. Other than the Tyrells of Yeen, they were the family with the closest blood ties to the Imperial dynasty. Over a century ago, the Stark family had even been granted a dragon egg, making them the second noble house outside the Imperial family to possess a dragon.

Unfortunately, more than thirty years ago, during the rebellion in the capital, the Starks had backed the wrong side. They were stripped of their titles, their dragon was reclaimed, and the entire family was exiled to the far eastern city of Mya, placed under the supervision of Asshai’s spellcasters and the Silent Court.

Although the new Divine Emperor had granted a general amnesty three years ago, House Stark had not been among those pardoned.

That was why Belier was so shocked to discover that his roommate was from House Stark. By all rights, he should have been confined to Castle Mya—so why was he participating in this expedition to the Origin?

Jon seemed to sense what Belier was thinking. Before Belier could even ask, he said, "His Divine Majesty granted me permission to undergo the Divine Emperor’s Trial. I passed the trial, and His Majesty pardoned our crimes, allowing me to join this expedition. If I can make contributions and achieve merit, my family will be fully pardoned."

Belier stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say. Born a commoner in the Divine Capital, he hadn’t even been born yet during the rebellion thirty years ago. Affairs of the great houses were far beyond him, and he didn’t dare pry, even though his heart was filled with curiosity.

Yes, curiosity—despite knowing that a commoner like him risked danger by poking into such secret matters, Belier still couldn’t suppress the intense curiosity burning inside him.

After all, the rebellion had broken out and ended so abruptly that news of it barely reached the empire’s borders before word of its suppression followed immediately after. By all estimates, the entire rebellion hadn’t even lasted a full day. Many found it all deeply puzzling.

But for those who were actively or passively caught up in the rebellion, its consequences were anything but mysterious. Overnight, more than half of the empire’s highest-ranking nobles disappeared—including ancient houses like House Stark, which had enjoyed immense prestige since the Old Continent days. Countless members of the middle ranks were also implicated. Even now, thirty years later, the aftershocks of that event had yet to fully fade.

It was precisely because the rebellion erupted and ended so suddenly, coupled with a strict royal ban on discussing it, that the entire affair remained shrouded in mystery—a mystery that continued to be a major focus for the fearless Maesters of the Citadel.

Of all the unanswered questions, House Stark’s involvement stood out as the greatest mystery. House Stark had always been staunchly neutral within the empire, stationed far from the Divine Capital, guarding the mouth of the Yihe River, and never involving themselves in the political struggles of the capital.

Yet, during the rebellion more than thirty years ago, Brynden Stark, the head of House Stark, inexplicably declared support for the rebels. He made this announcement just as the news of the rebellion reached Zamettar—which meant the uprising in the capital had already been crushed by then.

Naturally, no one heeded Brynden Stark’s call. The Night’s Watch regiment stationed nearby swiftly seized Zamettar, and when House Stark attempted to flee by sea, they were intercepted by House Martell of the Isle of Tears.

Almost everyone who studied this period of history believed that Brynden Stark must have been bewitched by some kind of sorcery, leading him to make such a disastrous decision. Even the judges who presided over House Stark’s trial had held this belief. Otherwise, House Stark would have shared the fate of other houses directly involved in the rebellion—total extermination—instead of being exiled to the far east and placed under permanent house arrest.

Belier finally couldn’t hold back his curiosity and asked, "Why did your clan chief suddenly declare support for the rebels back then? Surely your family’s informants in the Divine Capital would have already known the rebellion had failed? Given the speed of messenger falcons, the news should have reached Zamettar in time, so why..."

Jon Stark remained silent for a moment. He took a few deep drags on his pipe before answering bitterly, "All because of that damned love."

Hearing Jon’s words, Belier immediately understood. Among the many rumors surrounding House Stark’s involvement in the rebellion, one in particular claimed that Brynden Stark had been deeply in love with the mother of the rebellion’s leader—who at the time was the Empress herself. Blinded by emotion, he had made that fateful, irrational choice, ultimately dooming his entire house.

Thinking of this, Belier glanced at Jon again with a hint of pity. It was clear Jon had been born into House Stark after the rebellion, carrying the original sin of his bloodline from the moment he drew breath. In the end, he had been forced to sacrifice himself to atone for his family’s past. Although completing the Divine Emperor’s Trial and becoming a divine chosen one was considered the highest honor for any citizen of the empire, it also meant giving up the ability to reproduce and surrendering all personal freedom—living solely for the Divine Emperor, much like the Unsullied legions under the Empress.

"You don’t have to feel sorry for me. Honestly, this might not be a bad thing. I was able to leave that cursed place, join the expedition team, and come to the land of my ancestors. That’s been my greatest dream," Jon said, gazing at the old map of the continent hanging in the cabin. "Maybe this time we’ll even find the whereabouts of the God Emperor."

"The whereabouts of the God Emperor?" Belier blinked in confusion. "Isn’t the God Emperor in the Divine Capital?"

Jon corrected him, "To us, the ancient houses, there is only one true God Emperor. The one sitting on the Supreme Throne in the Divine Capital is merely the Emperor, not the God Emperor."

"Ah! You mean His Majesty!" Belier’s face lit up with realization. "Actually, the Temple of the Storm God, the Temple of the God of Calamity, the Temple of the God of Magic, and even the Faith of the Seven believe the same thing—they just don’t dare say it openly." He chuckled. "I didn’t expect you to believe those unreliable folk tales too, thinking the God Emperor isn’t dead but returned to the Old Continent."

"He is a god," Jon said solemnly.

Belier smiled and said, "I’m a Maester of the Mortal faction."

In the empire, opinions on Lynd Tarran, founder of the Tarran Dynasty, were deeply divided. The two mainstream views were the Divine faction, led by the royal family and the temples, and the Mortal faction, supported by the Citadel and the nobility. Although the Mortal faction had always been at a disadvantage, it had never disappeared, and debates about whether Lynd Tarran was a god or a man were a constant topic among the Maesters.

Jon spoke in a low voice, "What if I told you that fifty years ago, my great-grandfather met His Majesty the God Emperor? Would you believe me?"

"Really?" Belier exclaimed in surprise. "Then His Majesty would be over three hundred years old!"

Jon said nothing more. He tapped his pipe against his boot to knock out the ash, tucked it into his pocket, then lay down on the bed and closed his eyes to rest.

Belier was eager to continue the conversation, but he could tell that Jon wouldn’t say another word. So, he lay back in the hammock, silently pondering whether Jon’s words could possibly be true.

Throughout the Tarran Empire, there were countless theories about whether the God Emperor Lynd Tarran was still alive. After the deaths of the God Empresses Daenerys and Nymeria, the God Emperor had abdicated, handing the throne to the Holy Emperor Augustus, then departed the empire, riding the sacred dragon Deltos.

Some ships sailing the Summer Sea had reported seeing Deltos linger for a time at the ruins of Valyria before vanishing deep into the heart of Essos.

Some claimed the God Emperor had gone to the holy city of the God of Calamity, since he himself was the incarnation of that god, and the abandoned holy city was effectively his own domain. Others said he went to Braavos, the birthplace of the Temple of the Storm God, since Lynd was also seen as the Storm God.

But the most widespread belief was that the God Emperor had flown over Essos, crossed the Narrow Sea, and returned to Westeros.

To this day, the final whereabouts of the God Emperor remained an unsolved mystery. The royal family had organized numerous expeditions into both Essos and Westeros in search of him, but all had ended in failure. However, there were reports from ships claiming to have spotted Deltos near the icebound ruins of Oldtown.

Thus, the theory that the God Emperor had returned to Westeros remained the most popular.

Beyond establishing a base to assist the Maesters in studying the potential for reclaiming the Old Continent, the expedition’s more crucial purpose was to find the tomb of the God Emperor—or to find the sacred dragon, Deltos.

The current Divine Emperor desperately needed to locate the tomb of Lynd Tarran or Deltos to prove the legitimacy of his reign.

Although the current Divine Emperor had been appointed by his predecessor and his succession was perfectly legal, he suffered from a fatal flaw: he had no dragon.

None of the dragons owned by the royal family had submitted to him. He could only control them through the Dragon Horn. As a result, certain ill-intentioned individuals used this against him, questioning his bloodline and claiming he was not the true heir of the God Emperor.

While the Divine Emperor held absolute control over the empire and these hidden dissenters posed no real threat, their words had left a wound in his heart. After ascending the throne, he spared no expense from the royal treasury to organize multiple expeditions to the Old Continent, hoping to find the God Emperor’s tomb or the sacred dragon.

Thanks to the Divine Emperor’s generous funding, the expedition ships were the finest available—powered by runes developed by the Black Cave, eliminating the need for sails. These ships were far faster than traditional multi-masted vessels and built with steel hulls, far sturdier than wooden ships. Even collisions with floating ice would not destroy them.

Two days passed quickly. With the sound of a horn, Belier and Jon awoke from their sleep in the cabin. They hurriedly dressed and rushed onto the deck, where a crowd had already gathered. Looking into the distance, they saw a strip of land emerging at the edge of the frozen sea.

"The Old Continent! We’ve returned! The Old Continent!" Cheers erupted from the ship. Belier and Jon exchanged an excited glance, then shouted with joy, raising their arms high as they rushed into the jubilant crowd.