GOT: My Secret Lover is sansa - Chapter 170 Ivory Cloud Palace

Chapter 170: Chapter 170 Ivory Cloud Palace

Alaric and the scout left the bustling camp behind, taking a pair of horses and riding west along the banks of the Blackwater Rush.

They rode for about two miles until the terrain sloped upward, leading them to the massive, raised bluff the scout had described. Alaric pulled his black warhorse to a halt near the edge and dismounted, his heavy boots sinking slightly into the pristine, untouched grass.

He walked to the precipice and looked out. The scout had been entirely right. The view was breathtaking.

From here, the entire Blackwater Bay was visible, glittering under the morning sun. To the east, the smoldering, ruined silhouette of King’s Landing sat like a physical reminder of the old regime’s failure. The bluff offered supreme high ground, naturally defensible with steep drops on three sides, yet with plenty of flat, open space to build a massive compound. It was disconnected from the stench and squalor of the city, but close enough to project absolute dominance over it.

“Perfect,” Alaric murmured, the coastal wind pulling at his dark cloak. He turned his gaze to the empty expanse of grass. “System. What’s the best option for a Royal Palace on this terrain?”

Instantly, a crisp blue interface materialized in his vision, hovering over the empty bluff. The System didn’t just give him a list; it provided a highly tailored recommendation.

[SYSTEM RECOMMENDATION: The Ivory Cloud Palace]

Note: While Obsidian Fortresses provide high durability, deploying one in this coastal environment is heavily advised against. It would clash with the natural topography and project a depressing, tyrannical aura. A sovereign’s seat should inspire awe, not just fear.

Alaric let out a low chuckle. The System had a point. He wanted to rule a functional, thriving kingdom, not a graveyard. He focused on the details of the recommended structure.

[The Ivory Cloud Palace]

Cost: 20,000 MP

Material: Master-crafted white marble reinforced with systemic magic. Impervious to standard siege weaponry and natural erosion.

Interior: Fully furnished. Features top-tier luxury items, including master-crafted beds, imported silks, intricately carved seating, and flawless decorative aesthetics.

Passive Trait [Immaculate]: Zero maintenance required. Dust, dirt, and decay are magically repelled.

Unique Effect [Sovereign’s Silence]: Projects a localized suppression field. The closer an entity gets to the palace core, the weaker foreign magic becomes. Only the User and those explicitly authorized can utilize magical abilities within the domain.

Alaric’s eyes lingered on the price tag. 20,000 MP.

That was a massive chunk of the points he had been meticulously hoarding. He tapped his fingers against the hilt of his sword, doing the mental math.

“There shouldn’t be any world-ending dangers knocking on my door anytime soon,” Alaric muttered to himself, thinking of the White Walkers far to the North and Daenerys across the Narrow Sea. “I’ve got time. I’ll just have to put in the work to earn the investment back.”

He made the decision. “System. Purchase the Ivory Cloud Palace. Start construction immediately.”

[Transaction Confirmed: -20,000 MP]

[Initiating Construction… Estimated Time to Completion: 4 Hours]

The ground beneath their feet gave a deep, resonant rumble. Suddenly, a thick, shimmering white mist began to pour out of thin air, rolling over the bluff like a heavy tide. As the mist thickened, Alaric could see the faint, glowing outlines of massive marble foundations weaving themselves into existence, silently building the palace from the ground up.

“It’s going to be beautiful, Your Grace,” the scout remarked, watching the magical construction with crossed arms. “But a palace like that needs proper guards.”

“I know,” Alaric said smoothly.

He closed his eyes and tapped into the deep, underlying mental link he shared with his summons. His awareness shot across the two miles of land, flying over the tents of his army, past the muddy riverbanks, and straight to the peak of Aegon’s High Hill.

There, perched on the scorched crater of the Red Keep, sat his two massive, thirty-foot stone gargoyles. They had been entirely motionless since the destruction of the city, looking like permanent stone monuments to the fallen castle.

Through the link, Alaric issued a single, commanding thought. Come to me.

Back on Aegon’s High Hill, the stone beasts suddenly shifted. The deafening sound of grinding rock echoed across the capital.

Down in the Tyrell camps situated near the city walls, thousands of soldiers froze. Men dropped their rations and weapons, pointing up at the hill in absolute terror as the massive stone statues spread their wings. Screams erupted from the ranks as the gargoyles crouched, their thick stone muscles coiling with impossible kinetic energy.

With an explosive leap that shattered the stone beneath them, the two behemoths launched themselves into the sky.

Alaric stood on the bluff, watching the two massive silhouettes soar over the Blackwater. A few seconds later, the sky above them darkened.

BOOM.

The gargoyles landed on either side of the mist-shrouded construction site with a concussive impact that shook the very foundation of the bluff. Dirt and grass kicked up into the air as the thirty-foot stone monsters slowly stood to their full height. They folded their massive wings and settled into a perfectly still, intimidating crouch, their hollow stone eyes staring out at the capital.

Alaric smirked, looking up at his new gatekeepers.

He then turned away from the Tall stone gargoyles and looked back at the scout, who was still staring up at the gargoyles in absolute awe.

“Ride back to the camp,” Alaric commanded, his voice carrying effortlessly over the coastal wind. “Gather the commanders. Tell the men to look to the western bluff. Announce that their King is raising a new palace from the earth itself using his divine power. Let them watch it take shape.”

The scout’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of being the harbinger of such news. “At once, Your Grace. They won’t believe their eyes.” He leapt onto his horse, snapped the reins, and galloped hard back toward the sprawling army encampment.

By the time the scout reached the vanguard of the Tyrell and Northern forces, the camp was already in an uproar. The sight of the Red Keep’s stone gargoyles taking flight had sent waves of panic and awe rippling through the ranks. The scout rode straight into the center of the chaos, pulling his horse up hard.

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