Davos clung to the railing of the Moon's Grace as the ship slowed, its weathered wooden hull groaning as it pulled into Ragman's Harbor, the docking place for all ships not hailing from Braavos. The journey had been long—two weeks since they'd fled King's Landing in the dead of night, and Davos, at 10, still couldn't quite believe where he was. The Narrow Sea had been a trial, with Tom puking over the side the whole way, but now, as the harbor's bustling docks came into view, Davos's green eyes widened, his golden curls bouncing as he leaned forward, awestruck.
The Titan of Braavos loomed ahead, a colossus of stone and bronze straddling the harbor's entrance, its legs planted on either side of the channel, a sword raised in one hand, its helm's visor open to reveal a stern, weathered face. Flames burned in its eyes—beacons for ships—and its roar, a deep bellow from the wind passing through its hollow form, echoed over the water. Davos's jaw dropped, his breath catching. He'd heard tales of the Titan in Flea Bottom, whispered by sailors in taverns, but seeing it was something else entirely. It was a giant, a god of stone, guarding the city with a might that made the Red Keep look like a child's toy. Seven hells, he thought, it's bigger than anything I've ever seen.
The ship docked with a gentle thud, and Davos stepped onto the gangplank, his blue leather jerkin—marked with a falcon badge—feeling suddenly too fine for a boy like him. Ragman's Harbor buzzed with life, a chaotic swirl of color and sound that made Flea Bottom seem gray and small. Men with hair dyed purple and blue strutted past, their silks shimmering, their accents sharp and lilting. Others had skin black as coal, their eyes bright against their dark faces, speaking in tongues Davos couldn't fathom. A woman with a shaved head and golden tattoos danced with a monkey on her shoulder, her laughter like bells, while a man in a feathered cloak juggled knives, his hands a blur. Oddities everywhere, Davos thought, his head spinning. I ain't never seen nothin' like this.
He glanced down at himself, at the fine leather boots Edric had given him, the steel sword at his hip, the falcon badge that marked him as more than a gutter rat. I was just an orphan cutpurse in Flea Bottom, he thought, a lump in his throat. Stealin' bread, dodgin' Gold Cloaks, sleepin' in alleys. Now he was across the world, in clothes he could never have afforded back then, part of a lord's crew, seeing things he'd never dreamed of. How'd I get here?
His gaze shifted to Edric, standing at the ship's bow, giving orders to the 14 Arryn guards in their blue cloaks, their armor gleaming, their movements precise as they secured the ship. Edric, at nine and a half, was still a boy, but Davos couldn't help but feel starstruck. The lordling's plain white tunic was sweat-stained from the heat, his sandy blond hair tied back, the three scars on his head stark in the sunlight, but there was a power in him that drew every eye. The guards obeyed his every word without hesitation, their discipline a testament to his command. Even in Braavos, amidst all the oddities, the foreign dockworkers and sailors couldn't take their eyes off him—the young lordling with his fierce scars, his steel sword, and his retinue of armored men. He's just a boy, Davos thought, but he's more'n that. He's… somethin' else. The things he can do—leadin' us, fightin' like a man grown, plannin' this whole trip. He's got power, real power.
Davos was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Edric approaching until the lordling's voice cut through his stupor. "Davos," Edric said, his tone sharp but not unkind, his blue eyes steady. "Take the boys—Tom, Wyl, Waymar—and five guards. Go to the Red Temple, check out the city, and report back to me at the ship by dusk."
Davos blinked, snapping to attention, his golden curls bouncing as he nodded. "Aye, m'lord," he said, his voice steady despite the awe still buzzing in his chest. He turned to the others—Tom, still pale but standing, Wyl, grinning at the chaos, and Waymar, proud as ever—and waved to five of the Arryn guards. The Red Temple, he thought, his heart racing. Braavos. I'm really here. With one last glance at Edric, Davos led the group into the city, the Titan's shadow looming behind them.