Chapter 3
Time: 199 - 179 Years Before the Doom
POV: Kaelen (Elias Vance)
The Balearys manse was less a house and more a small city carved from fused black stone, towering over the surrounding structures in Valyria. Dragons, massive and terrible, roosted on the highest spires, their scales glinting like jewels in the harsh Valyrian sun. The air itself hummed with raw power, a stark contrast to the quiet, natural energy of Sothoryos. This was a place built on ambition and arcane might, utterly alien to my Ael'athar senses, yet fascinating to my Earthly mind.
Vaella led me through echoing halls, past slaves in rich livery and Valyrians in silks and fine metals, all of whom gave me curious, often disdainful, glances. I kept my face blank, observing everything. The rich tapestries, the intricate carvings, the sheer, undeniable wealth. This was the heart of an empire, arrogant and powerful. And in less than two centuries, it would be dust. The thought gave me a cold, pragmatic resolve.
We entered a vast chamber where a man sat at a table laden with scrolls and maps. He was older than Vaella, with the same striking silver hair, though his was pulled back in a severe braid. His violet eyes, however, held a sharp, dangerous intelligence that Vaella's youthful gaze only hinted at. This was Archon Vhaelor Balearys, the head of the house. He looked up as we entered, his expression unreadable.
"Father," Vaella said, her voice respectful but firm, "This is Kaelen, the one I spoke of."
Vhaelor's eyes fixed on me, piercing and assessing. He said nothing for a long moment, simply studying me, as if trying to decipher a complex equation. I returned his gaze steadily, projecting calm and a subtle hint of the unusual, without giving anything away. I was a scholar, a curious being from the wild. Nothing more.
Finally, he spoke, his voice deep and resonant. "My daughter tells me you pulled her from the jaws of death, single-handedly subduing a fully grown cockatrice. An impossible feat, for one of your... appearance." He waved a dismissive hand, indicating my simple attire and lack of Valyrian finery. "She speaks of stone rising and vines binding. She speaks of secrets."
"Your daughter speaks truthfully, Archon Vhaelor," I replied, my voice steady. "The jungle of Sothoryos holds many secrets. And I have learned to speak to it." I kept it simple. Vagueness was my shield.
Vhaelor leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "Vaella also tells me you demand a price for your silence. And passage to Valyria. Is this true?"
"It is," I confirmed. "My interest lies in knowledge. Your Freehold is famed for its libraries, its arts, its understanding of the world. I seek to learn."
He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "A scholar. In the depths of Sothoryos? And with such... singular talents. You are a curious being, Kaelen. Most men would demand gold, or power, or a dragon."
"Gold is fleeting. Power, in the wrong hands, is poison," I stated, drawing on my historical knowledge of countless fallen empires. "And dragons are not for those who seek to understand, but to dominate. I seek understanding. I seek to observe. To learn the ways of the Freehold, its smithing arts, its naval architecture, its very philosophy." I knew what I needed: the practical skills that could build a new civilization, and the insights into how the old one worked – and how it failed.
Vhaelor regarded me for a long moment, a calculating glint in his eyes. He was arrogant, yes, but also intensely pragmatic. A powerful, mysterious asset, bound by a secret and a desire for knowledge that seemed harmless enough. "Very well, Kaelen," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You are bold. I like boldness. You may stay as long as you wish. You will have access to our libraries, to our artisans, to our shipwrights. You will learn what you desire." He paused, his gaze sharp. "In return, your silence remains absolute. And should House Balearys ever again face a crisis where your unique... talents... might be useful, you will offer them. Quietly."
"Agreed, Archon Vhaelor," I said, a slight bow of my head. The deal was struck. My grand education had begun.
The Scholar-Warrior (199 - 179 Years Before the Doom)
For the next twenty years, Valyria became my classroom. I lived within the sprawling Balearys compound, a peculiar guest who was neither thrall nor master, yet held a strange, unspoken influence. Vaella, initially wary, slowly became something akin to a friend. She was fascinated by my perspective, by my quiet observations of their society. I, in turn, learned much from her. She spoke of Valyrian politics, the rivalries of the dragonlord houses, the intricate dance of power that held the Freehold together.
My days were a blur of intense study. I spent hours in the Balearys libraries, vast repositories of knowledge carved into living rock, devouring texts on history, engineering, and the arcane arts. I sought out the best smiths, watching their every move, learning the secrets of Valyrian steel. It wasn't magic, I realized, but a highly advanced form of metallurgy, involving precise temperatures, unique folding techniques, and perhaps a subtle infusion of dragon breath or blood that altered the molecular structure of the metal. My rapid regeneration meant I could work in the scorching heat of the forges longer than any human, never tiring, never burning beyond repair. I learned to hammer, to fold, to temper, absorbing every technique.
I also found the best sword masters. Valyrians were fierce warriors, and their fighting styles were elegant and deadly. My Ael'athar body was already incredibly agile, and my rapid regeneration allowed me to push past pain, learning complex forms and maneuvers. I trained relentlessly, my muscle memory adapting with astonishing speed. I didn't just learn to wield a sword; I learned to master it, combining their techniques with my own understanding of physics and leverage.
Years turned into decades. I continued to grow, but my Ael'athar form reached maturity around twenty. After that, I simply stopped aging. My skin remained smooth, my hair as silver-white as the day I was reborn. Vhaelor and Vaella, who were growing older, observed this with increasing awe and unease.
One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, Vaella, now a mature woman with lines of experience around her eyes, watched me closely. "You do not age, Kaelen," she stated, not as a question, but a simple fact. "You are... the same as when you arrived."
"My people are long-lived, Vaella," I replied simply, the truth veiled within a half-truth. "We walk a slower path through time."
Vhaelor, now visibly older, his face deeply lined, later called me to his study. "Your secret is safe, Kaelen," he said, his voice raspy. "We have honored our pact. But your... longevity... it draws attention. Soon, the others will notice. Even our closest allies." His eyes held a hint of desperation. He had benefited from my quiet insights, my ability to "sense" truths others missed, my subtle ways of gathering information without overtly using my powers.
It was my cue. My time in Valyria was nearing its end. I had absorbed all I could here. I had glimpsed the arrogance, the internal decay, the simmering tensions that would surely contribute to the Doom. I had learned how to make the finest steel, how to fight, how to understand the intricacies of a complex, doomed empire.
"My studies here are nearing their completion, Archon," I said, my voice gentle. "I feel the pull of new horizons. I wish to continue my journey of knowledge, to explore the wider world. To seek new... adventures." A convenient excuse. I knew where I was going next. To Essos, to learn how to build the ships that would carry my empire's trade and armies.
Vhaelor nodded slowly. He understood. My presence, while beneficial, was also a riddle he couldn't solve, a secret that was becoming harder to keep. "Then go, Kaelen of Sothoryos," he said, a strange mix of regret and relief in his voice. "May your adventures bring you the knowledge you seek. Remember your debt to House Balearys."
I gave him a deep, respectful bow. "Always, Archon."
I had come here a curious outsider. I left a master of steel and sword, with decades of observation and a lifetime of ambition still ahead. My journey to build the Sothoryan empire now led east.