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***
274 A.D.
«Watch it! Careful, I fucking said! These aren't grain sacks! This is expensive merchandise! If you damage it, you'll spend the rest of your life as my juniors! - Life goes on, people die, generations pass, but some things remain the same. For example, until the end of time, in all worlds, there will be captains and XOs scolding negligent sailors for their faults.
Standing on the bridge of the Black Panther, I waited with a little excitement for shipment. As much as I had admired the wild and beautiful nature of the North, I quickly grew bored with it. I don't argue, it has its own unique charm, expressed in silence, peace and harmony between man and his foremother. But none of that is for me. I have always loved brighter landscapes, when the world around me played with all possible colors, showing everyone around life in its true splendor. For me there is nothing more beautiful than the green meadows of Prostor, with their soft and lush green grass and leaves constantly rippling in the breeze, or the long ago native hills and forests of the Western Lands, where I spent my entire second childhood and with which I have too many pleasant moments and memories.
We spent nearly four days on Bear Island, three of which were spent searching for that very bear.
All the tambourine dancing around Old Giora, in the form of explaining my intentions and my way of making money, was for the sake of this moment. You can't just sail up to Mormont and say "catch me your totem animal and deliver it here".
This is Westeros. The abode of lords and knights, men who live primarily by the laws of honor and duty. You can't just go to a representative of a noble house, whether it's a Lannister, a Fowler, or a Mormont, and demand to sell their symbol. It's analogous to asking to go to the Targaryens and demanding they give up the skull of the Black Terror Ballerion, or going to the Boltons and asking to sell their famous family cloaks sewn from Stark leather. That is a very strong insult to the whole family.
You need a reason. A very good reason that can satisfy all the canons of local honor. And I have found that reason, two reasons to be exact. The first is, of course, the food, sold at a discounted price (though in fact I bought it at half the price) and the promise that after showing the "overseas merchants the proud symbol of the Mormonts" I would take it back to Westeros and release it somewhere in the North. Without these two points being honored, not only would Mormont refuse my offer, but he would not sell a single hide.
«Mr. Felix, he's been brought in! - I was distracted from thinking about the difficulties of human relationships by Edward's voice, who had finished loading the last bales of furs and was now pointing toward the forest.
There was something to see. There was a monster sitting in a huge cage that had been ordered from Staromest and specially placed on the ship, rolled by several dozen men with the help of logs that had been placed beforehand. A huge furry monster with its mere appearance inspired fear. Brown fur, in many places tangled and hanging in shreds, sharp and long black claws, a jaw in one bite capable of chewing off the head of a grown man ... an old, but still at the peak of strength of a mature beast. One and a half times the size of his kin, he lay calmly at the bottom of the cage and, with a hidden threat in his gaze, surveyed his surroundings. I had no illusions that he would remain calm for long. Even from here, nearly two hundred yards from the ship, I could see the impressive claw marks left on the cage walls. Not big enough to break the cage and break free from its confinement, but big enough to tear a human to shreds with ease.
"And just how did they catch him?" - I wondered, watching my "goods" slowly roll up to the prepared raft on which he would be taken to the ship. I even wondered how the future triarch would keep him. There's not enough meat on him. Though, remembering how much money I was promised for this beast, I shouldn't even think about spending on it.
Yeah, I wasn't going to honor the second clause of the Mormont deal. The deal for this bear had already been made and the ambassador of one of the Triarchs of Volantis had hinted very directly what would happen to me if something went wrong. And death would be deliverance in such a case, not punishment.
No matter how much I cheer myself up, I'm still a nobody in this world. Yes I own three fast ships, yes I have a good crew of four hundred loyal sailors, yes I have good friends who will easily go through fire, water, and brass with me... but that's it. To most of Westeros, I'm just an underachiever who quickly escaped the Citadel, and the second son of a poor sword knight who got lucky in a tournament once. In Essos, the first thing they look at is the depth of the interlocutor's wallet, and I wasn't doing well with that. The money previously accumulated for almost 16 years was almost completely spent, and there were no new sources of income. I only had 300 gold dragons left, half of which would evaporate on the way to Volantis. So this bear was my most important and risky investment. If he makes it to the Free Cities alive, I'll be very rich.
«Dangerous beast. - A loud and familiar bass sounded beside me, making me flinch for a moment. - Strong. One of the bear king's wives for a reason.
"You can't let your guard down that much." - I thought, glancing in the direction of the approaching guest. He turned out to be Jorah Mormont, the only son of the local lord. I hadn't had much contact with him, but even so he left the impression of a true Northman - taciturn, a little rough, stern, and distrustful of outsiders. And all this was combined with a great love for his family, in the presence of which he became a completely different person. I still remember how in the courtyard of the manor, he played with little Dacey, his niece, organizing a fun battle on children's maces. Such are all the people of the north - tough and cold on the outside and warm on the inside. - "Eh, I'm envious. "I miss my grand-- Wait! What?!"
«Is that a female?! - The way Mormont laughed, clutching his stomach, my dumbfounded look amused him. It was only after he laughed and straightened his back that he was able to give a normal answer.
«It is one of the five wives of the bear king. - He said with more sense and seriousness in his eyes. - In the North we have a king in every more or less large forest. A beast so superior in height and stature that his other kin seem dwarfed by him. Legend has it that beast kings are blessed by the Old Gods and keep their final altars, living in huge enchanted mantises. I don't know about the south, but here, in addition to the Bear King, there are three other known kings - the giant black wolf who lives in the Wolfwood and rules the packs there, the old lion cub who has ruled the Wet Forest for several hundred years, and the Winter Fox who lives in the forests of Carhold. According to legends it was because of her and her ancestors that the Karstarks took their crest, the white sun.
The story told was a real revelation to me. None of the books I'd read in the Citadel about the North had hinted at these guardian beasts.
"It's true what they say, you live and learn." - I thanked Mormont and went with him into the ship's holds. I had to give the last part of the payment - a barrel of golden Boron wine, bought on the first voyage of the ships to Arbor.
After loading the last of the "live" cargo and bidding farewell to a satisfied Mormont, who looked adoringly at the barrel in his hands, preparations for departure began apace. There were only two months to go, and it would be better to hurry, lest we should be late.
Along with me were twenty other natives of Bear Island who wanted to see the world and earn money for their families. They were all young but experienced warriors, hardened by the inhospitable nature of the North and the constant skirmishes with Ironborn and wildlings. It was with that in mind that I had not recruited guards back in Staromest. Northerners, unlike Southern mercenaries, value their word over money. With them I can be sure that I will not be betrayed or stabbed in the back at the most unexpected moment.
"Rugged, battle-hardened, loyal to their employer, and honest to a fault." - I thought proudly as I watched Victarion put them to work on the ship, under the supervision of the more experienced sailors. - "Almost perfect soldiers."
The sailing was somehow mundane. There was no large crowd to see us off, only a few women whose sons and brothers were going with me came to the pier. Even Lord Mormont didn't come in person, sending his son instead, judging by the look in his eyes, who had already tasted the wine he'd received.
"Northmen." - I pondered, strolling into the hold and looking at our guest. - "No matter how happy they are with the food we brought, to them we will still be strangers who will have to leave. It is true what Maester Epin said - to conquer the North it must be completely exterminated and repopulated."
We are now heading for Darkwoods, the castle of the Glover family, who control the largest forest on the continent. There we can easily get a good supply of foresters and highlanders from the nearby Northern Mountains, and sell off the remaining goods, of which there are still plenty. Still, lords are not merchants and I was easily able to cheat the Old Bear, who seemed proud that he had gotten his food at half the price this time.
"As an old folk wisdom says, a bargain can be called a good deal if both sides think they've cheated the other," a grin came to my face. Even in Staromest, the difference in price between traded skins and sold food was fifteen times different. And there was no telling how much they would sell for in Volantis, Volan Teris, Valisar, and Saroj.
All that remained was to wait and hope for a tailwind.
***
It took us only half a day to get to the Glover family castle, and like the Mormont manor, it wasn't very impressive.
It was a simple wooden fortress built on a relatively convenient location. On a flat-topped hill stood a simple large loft and a rather tall wooden tower, surrounded by low wooden walls. Below the hill, outside the fortifications, was a courtyard with stables, a corral, a smithy, a well and a sheepfold, all made of the same wood. Protecting all this beauty was a simple deep ditch, with a sloping earthen rampart and a perambulation of logs. All in all, a squalor, not a castle.
It didn't give me a very good impression of the Glover family. I had expected much more from a house with some of the richest lands in the North. There's still-growing mountains only a hundred miles away. What's to stop them from ordering stone from the same highlanders and building a proper castle? And don't give me the world-famous "we don't have any money." The Wolf Forest is one huge treasure trove of valuable resources that are not used at all. Honey, berries, furs, construction and ship wood... and that's just the first thing that comes to mind. In Staromest, I've seen some particularly cunning peddlers with ties to the forest clans of the North sell wild forest honey for more than Bisbury honey - the most respected and ancient beekeepers in all of Westeros, tracing their lineage back to Garth of Greenhand himself. And they sell their sweet amber for their weight in silver.
So when I met the Glover family's messenger, their future heir, who was even younger than I was, I didn't have the best impression of the house.
Galbart Glover turned out to be a fourteen-year-old who had recently returned to his father's house from being raised by the Reeds, and was now learning the basics of running his own house. He said the current Lord Glover had mistaken me for a middle-aged merchant from the Western Lands and had sent his son to gain experience in dealing with foreigners. I wouldn't respect myself if I didn't take that chance. A young and inexperienced heir of a noble house can tell a lot about everything that happens in his lands, the main thing is to ask correctly.
And everything went like a sheet music. A well-crafted facial expression, a friendly smile, a few mugs of local ale and imported Arborian wine, and he considered me almost his best friend. From him I learned a sea of seemingly unimportant information, but if you dig hard enough, you can find real treasure. For example, I found out that one of the forest clans, engaged in beekeeping, was on the verge of starvation because of the mistakes of its head, who decided to save money and not prepare food in advance. This made it possible to go to a representative of this clan the next day and easily exchange ten bushels of grain for two hundred honeycombs, although under normal circumstances the foresters would have demanded twice as much. The same story happened with three other clans, for various reasons, standing on the edge of starvation.
In the end, after three days of anchorage at Darkwoods, the holds of my ships were filled with furs, honey, sealskin, ironstone products, and even a few narwhal horns found by the locals on the shore. And all this thanks to a simple conversation with the heir, who, according to rumors, received a slap on the wrist from his father when he found out how I knew the plight of his subjects, on whom he himself wanted to profit.
A bonus was the replenishment of my fighting strength. After a little propaganda in one of the inns, where I promised a salary in silver and the opportunity to see distant countries, almost all the local youth came running to hire me on the ships. I even had to organize a small tournament, where sixty of the best archers and forty of the best warriors were selected. And while the archers were all foresters who had hunted in the woods since childhood and never parted with their bows, most of the warriors were from the highlanders who lived in Stone Hill and were guests of the Glovers.
So soon the ships, having replenished their water and food supplies, finally headed south. The only ports where I planned to stop before arriving in Volantis were Lannisport and Sun Lance.
While after the Sun Lance, fate gave me one big and significant headache that would haunt me for years, there were only two incidents before that that severely frayed my nerves.
***
The first occurred when my vessels were rounding the Cape of the Sea Dragon, half a day after sailing. In the hold of the Purple Rhinoceros they found a boy of about ten or twelve years of age. He was sitting in the darkest and deepest part of it, crawling under the purchased furs and sleeping peacefully. At first they wanted to throw him into the sea, without any sentimentality, so that he wouldn't bother my eyes or even inform me. But later, Hoar, who was captain on the Rhinoceros, noticed that the boy was very reverently clutching to his chest a small lump that turned out to be a chick of the Northern Eagle, a proud and dangerous bird that lived only in the North and beyond the Wall. Because of this, he decided to show it to me, just in case, and he did not fail.
One of the hired woodsmen recognized the boy and told me everything he could about him. As it turned out, the boy's name was Volkan and he was an orphan in one of the forest clans, living under the care of the head of the village. But that wasn't the most interesting part. The boy was a werewolf, a man who could enter the bodies of other living creatures, take over their minds, control them from a distance, and see through their eyes.
Back in Staromest, I'd read some old books about them. According to those writings, a powerful werewolf can take on any living creature, even humans, but usually keeps only one "hand" beast around him, with which he has a strong spiritual bond. Werewolfism is one of the manifestations of magic still remaining in this world, a supernatural talent inherited by all descendants of the Children of the Forest. In the Seven Kingdoms, werewolves are born, but they are killed as soon as they show even the slightest bit of their gift. I've heard that beyond the Wall they are not only kept alive, but respected as powerful sorcerers and sorcerers.
When the fact that we had a sorcerer on the ship came to the attention of the others, most of the crew wanted to either drown him or kill him on the spot. It all depended on the religion of the proposer. Only my authority and a few personally beaten bodies could calm them down and make them listen. For where they saw a fearsome sorcerer who should not have lived, I saw a prospect.
Yes, in theory this boy would be able to possess and control people in the future, but even the books said that only the strongest of werewolves were capable of this. But there's one simple advantage that outweighs any disadvantage. Intelligence. After a conversation with Volkan, where I had to feed him, wash him, and examine him for diseases, I learned that he already had his own tamed animal, an eagle. He could already look through his eyes when he slept, and was soon to learn to do so consciously.
Imagining that if I had a man on my team capable of controlling a bird and looking through its eyes, I began to be overwhelmed with excitement. Pirates, storms, shoals and currents. All of these things would be known in advance, greatly reducing the risk of traveling by sea. Beauty. When I told the rest of the crew, even they were excited about the possibilities. Only the foresters and mountaineers, who had never sailed on ships before and did not know about the dangers of sea travel, were against it, but no one listened to them.
So the Black Panther had its own ship's werewolf to take care of and train. Joen, Rick and Dick, who had nothing to do during the voyage, unlike Robin, who was constantly training with the woodsmen, and Piper, who was helping the ship's carpenter.
***
The second incident caught up with me as we sailed past Whispers Bay and prepared to sail through Redwine Bay. After passing through it, my ships would have finally entered the Summer Sea, a warm and friendly ocean as large as the Sunset Sea and within which lay the famous Summer Islands. But when I and the rest of the crew jumped up from our hammocks in the night to an ear-splitting roar full of pain and despair, I didn't care for those thoughts.
"Bear." - Instantly it popped into my head, quickly removing any hint of drowsiness or any semblance of it. If anything happened to her, I'd be crying for my money.
I rushed to the hold, grabbing one of the guys hired on Bear Island by the scruff of the neck on the way, I thought over the worst variants of events, starting from the terrible illness of my ward, ending with a shark that squeezed through the hatch and started a fight.
Things turned out to be even worse.
When I entered the hold with twenty members of the crew, I was faced with the most horrible picture - a bear cub covered in blood, lying on her side and roaring all the time. And just fucking news from the very same guy still floundering behind me, with his collar still on:
«She's in labor.
"Mormont, here you are ******* son ******* ****** to all the devils in Pekla ****** in all...". - Such thoughts in my head were the most censorious. This creep had slipped me just a huge setup. I wouldn't believe that a species that had lived near bears for centuries couldn't detect late gestation in this female. It was clear why she was so sleepy, ate so much and hardly moved. All of her energy was going into the babies.
In that situation, I made the only choice possible at the time.
«All right! Get Robin and Joan over here! - I yelled in a voice that was almost as loud as the roar of a bear lying next to me. They were the only two who had gotten a silver link in the Citadel and had any practical experience in medicine. - We're going to deliver the bear.
The next few hours of my life were imprinted on my memory for a long time, no matter how much I wanted to forget them. I had experience in birthing bears, as had Joen and Robin, who had taken specialized courses at the university, but our past charges couldn't break a hapless human's spine with a paw and at least understand what was wanted of them. The only thing we could do was pour some poppy milk down her throat, to reduce the pain and soothe her, clean up the blood a bit, and pray. Seriously pray. With the whole team.
Eventually, after a few hours, it was over. The bear had survived, and was now lying peacefully with two little lumps at her side, constantly sucking on mother's milk.
Everyone on the ship breathed a sigh of relief. The most valuable goods were intact and even increased in quantity. If Volkan does not let us down and can get us through the Narrow Sea without getting caught in a storm, the small ones have a good chance to survive and be successfully sold to the triarch. And that could greatly increase the depth of my pocket.
That day, despite the tight deadline, all three ships docked at Sea Star, one of the many port towns on Arbor, and their crews were given a leave of absence. I needed a drink myself, then, and the Arborsok wine did a good job of it.
The ships left the island only two days later, with sailors as happy as cats in a bath of sour cream. After all their pleasures had to pay me and it cost almost fifteen dragons....
"Eh... It's a hard lot for an honest captain and merchant."
But after a few days we arrived at the Sun Spear, where a significant meeting took place, which cost me many gray hairs in the future.
***
We had seen Sunspear, the ancestral castle of the Martells from where they rule sandy Dorne, at dawn. Standing on the shores of the Summer Sea, on the peninsula of the Broken Arm, north of the mouth of the Zelenokrovna River, it was like a chimera, combining the cultures of two peoples, the Andals and the Rhoynars.
Back when I was a student at the Citadel, I studied the history and architecture of all the great castles of Westeros, such as Winterfell, Dragonstone, Harenhall, and many others. The Solar Lance was also among them.
Originally, even before the Rhoynar migration, this castle went by a different name, the Ark of the Sands. A squat, unsightly structure, resembling the shape of a giant coin, it did not even know its fate yet. When Mors Martell, whose coat of arms had a spear, married Queen Nymeria, "the sun of Roina", both symbols - the spear and the sun - were placed on the new coat of arms of the Martells ruling the Ark. The castle then received its current name.
Over time, its owners expanded and completed the castle, adding beautiful towers and buildings in the Rojnar style. The two main towers of the castle, the Tower of the Sun, crowned with a huge dome of gilded crystal, and the elegant 150-foot Tower of the Spear, topped with a spire in the shape of a real steel spear that adds another thirty feet to the height of the tower, were built almost a thousand years ago, during Nymeria's lifetime. Also, about four hundred years before W.E., when most of the Rhoynar assimilated and blended into the local houses, the defensive Looping Walls surrounding all of Sunspear were built to protect the desert rulers, winding all the way around the Shadow City.
Looking at this beautiful castle from the bay of Shadow City, I was immediately reminded of the old Disney cartoons about Aladdin and Jasmine.
"If the Sun Spear stood in the desert, it would be an exact replica of Agrabah" - I thought, while giving orders to replenish food and fresh water. We had only come into this city for that, as we had to hurry to Volantis. The Triarch elections would begin in two weeks, and the sooner we were there the better. - "To think of it. In Westeros, land of knights and medieval castles, there is an entire kingdom that seems to have stepped out of the pages of tales of the magical East. Wondrous local affairs."
Within an hour the provisions had been renewed and the fresh water barrels filled to capacity. Joen was even able to make a quick run to the market and buy some normal clothes for Volkan, something we had forgotten to do because of minor "problems" on the same Sea Star. After he had been washed, combed and dressed in normal clothes, which he used to wear with one big shapeless sailor shirt and pants, he even looked like a young aristocrat - correct facial features, curly brown hair, combined with a handsome face made the boy a real beauty. The maidens on the docks looked at him when they let him out on deck.
«Captain, we're ready to sail. Shall we start? - Edward finally said, coming toward me. He had already removed half of his clothes and was rubbing his sweating forehead with a white handkerchief. What can I say, Dorne's climate isn't great. Even now, on the dock, where the sea breeze was cooling my body, I could feel myself melting.
"Thirty-five degrees, no less." - I thought, nodding my head to confirm the start of sailing. The sooner we get out to sea, the sooner this infernal heat will pass.
«Hey, you! Stop! - A shout suddenly heard on the dock attracted everyone's attention. The one who shouted was a soldier dressed in the traditional uniform of the Martell home guard - spear, round shield, pointed helmet and lamellar armor, covered by a large amount of yellow clothing, with images of a spear piercing the sun. He, along with his companions - two similar guardsmen holding some sort of constantly jerking bundle - were talking to Victarion, who had descended to them from the White Tiger, judging by his gesticulations they would soon be walking towards us.
And so they did. Soon the trio came to the gangway of the Black Panther, and, not embarrassed by the not-so-kind looks of most of the Northerners, went up on deck.
"What do they want here?" - I thought, while a bad premonition was brewing in my soul.
«Who is Felix here, the owner of these ships? - The soldier who had been talking to Victarion asked rudely, looking around the ship, searching the clothes for the owner. I mean me. Well, good luck to him, for I was indistinguishable from the rest of the sailors by my clothes, in which I had always valued practicality more than appearance.
"Well, we'll have to find out what they're here for."
«That's me. - I finally called out, stepping down from the bridge and facing the soldiers. They nodded their heads at my appearance.
«You're going to Volantis? - Without even saying hello, I asked the head guard among the three of them. The soldier himself had a plain Rhoynaran face and, except for an interesting scar on his cheekbone, did not stand out. You see them once and forget them.
«Yes.
«You are to take this man there and deliver him into the hands of the merchant Belicio Taragos, who lives on the Street of Blue Ribbons. - At his words, the two remaining men let go of the ends of the bundle, dropping a young, black-haired Dornish man who, judging by the odor he smelled, was drunk out of his mind. - You will be paid a hundred gold dragons for the delivery. Here's your advance.
"They work fast," I thought, accepting the purse I was handed, which sounded full of gold coins. - "But why would the Martells want it... Unless..."
«Sail at once. - He said one last thing, and quickly turned around to leave.
«Who was he that he was being escorted by the guards of House Martell and paid such a large sum of money to transport him? - I barely had time to ask before those sly-assed Dornishmen scurried off into the sunset. There was still hope in my soul that fate could not have set me up so badly.
But it was all for nothing. The answer came immediately, and when I heard it, I realized how badly I'd been screwed this time:
«Prince Oberyn Martell of Dornish, son of Lethen and Edara Martell.
***
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