Chapter 4
Time: 179 - 149 Years Before the Doom
POV: Kaelen (Elias Vance)
Leaving Valyria was a strange feeling. For twenty years, that sprawling, arrogant city had been my university, my forge, my training ground. I carried its secrets within me—the intricate dance of its politics, the raw power of its magic that still defied my Earthly understanding, and the practical knowledge of its steel and swords. But I also carried the heavy certainty of its coming destruction. It was a dying empire, and I had learned all it could teach me for my own goals.
My journey led me across the Jade Sea, on a merchant vessel whose captain was too awed by my subtle Valyrian finery (gifts from House Balearys) to ask too many questions. My destination: Pentos. It was one of the Free Cities, a bustling hub of trade and intrigue, far from Valyria's direct shadow, and a prime location to find what I needed next: knowledge of shipbuilding.
Pentos was a stark contrast to Valyria's grand, imposing silence. It was loud, crowded, and alive with the smell of spices, fish, and sweat. Merchants shouted, sellswords swaggered, and the air buzzed with a different kind of energy—the energy of commerce and competition. I navigated the labyrinthine streets, my heightened senses taking in every detail, my mind absorbing the new culture, the new rhythms of life.
I spent days observing the docks, watching ships of every size and design being built, repaired, and loaded. My goal wasn't just to learn how to build boats, but why they were built that way. The physics of buoyancy, hydrodynamics, the stresses on different woods and rigging in varied seas—these were the new equations I needed to solve. I watched the shipwrights, their calloused hands moving with practiced ease, their eyes judging angles and curves. They were artisans, engineers, and, to me, invaluable sources of information.
My target became a particular shipyard, one known for building sturdy, long-haul merchant vessels. Its owner was a gruff, stocky man named Tobos, his face weathered by sun and sea, his hands like gnarled oak. He oversaw his apprentices with a sharp tongue and an even sharper eye for detail. His ships were known for their reliability. He was precisely what I needed.
One afternoon, I approached him as he inspected a ship's keel. "Master Tobos," I said, my voice polite, my Valyrian-accented common tongue a little stiff from lack of practice, but clear.
He grunted, not looking up. "What do you want, boy? This ain't a place for idle gawkers."
"I am Kaelen," I replied, standing my ground. "And I wish to learn. I have observed your work for days. Your vessels are strong, your methods precise. I believe I could be a useful apprentice."
Tobos finally looked at me, his eyes, dark and shrewd, taking me in. My pale skin, my unusual amethyst eyes, the fine, though simple, clothes. "An apprentice? You look like you've never lifted anything heavier than a feather. And you speak like you've come from beyond the world, pale one." He settled on "pale one," a common enough descriptor for someone of my coloring from the sunnier south.
"I am quick to learn," I countered, keeping my tone even. "My strength is deceptive, and my mind is eager. I seek knowledge, Master Tobos, in all its forms. I will work tirelessly. I will ask no pay, only teaching. For as long as you deem me useful."
He scoffed. "No pay? What's your game, boy? You rich Valyrian fancy boy come here for amusement?" He paused, then his eyes narrowed. "You ain't one of them thralls, are ya? 'Cause if you are, you're in the wrong city."
"I am no thrall," I stated firmly, meeting his gaze. "I am simply... a traveler with a deep curiosity about how things are made. From the ground, to the sky, to the sea." I tried to imply a broad interest, without giving away my actual powers. "I believe your craft is as vital as any in the world."
Tobos studied me for a long, quiet moment. He'd likely never met anyone quite like me. No pay was a powerful incentive, and my calm confidence must have piqued his interest. Or perhaps he saw a challenge. Finally, he spat on the ground. "Alright, stranger. You want to learn? You start with scrubbing decks and hauling timber. If you can last a week without whimpering, then maybe I'll show you how to tie a knot. But don't expect special treatment. This ain't no parlor game."
"Thank you, Master Tobos," I said, a genuine sense of triumph welling within me. This was it. The next phase.
The Shipwright's Apprentice (179 - 149 Years Before the Doom)
For the next thirty years, Pentos became my new school. I started at the bottom, just as Tobos had promised. I scrubbed, I hauled, I cut timber, my rapid regeneration making the grueling work tolerable, even easy. My body grew strong, lean, and accustomed to the relentless demands of the shipyard. Tobos, for all his gruffness, was a master. He taught me about wood: its grain, its strength, how it flexed and resisted. He taught me about sails, rigging, and the intricate dance of forces that kept a ship afloat and moving.
My mind devoured every lesson. I didn't just learn what to do; I learned why. I spent my nights poring over old shipbuilding diagrams, sketching out my own designs, applying the principles of fluid dynamics I remembered from Earth. I was a sponge, absorbing everything. Tobos, at first dismissive, slowly grew to respect my tireless dedication and my seemingly uncanny knack for understanding complex problems. He never saw me age, of course. He just saw Kaelen, the diligent, quiet apprentice who never tired, never complained, and eventually outpaced all his other workers.
I met others in Pentos too. Fellow apprentices, cynical dockworkers, shrewd merchants. I learned their ways, their hopes, and their fears. I saw the power of trade, the importance of reliable transport, the arteries that kept a civilization alive. This wasn't just about building ships; it was about understanding the backbone of an economy, crucial knowledge for any aspiring empire builder.
As the decades passed, Tobos, now an old man, saw me surpass even his own skills. He was well past his prime, his hands gnarled with age, his mind still sharp but slower. He had seen me remain young, while he himself withered. He never asked how, or why. Perhaps he was too old, too tired, or too resigned to the strange wonders of the world. Perhaps he just valued my skill.
One evening, as the twin suns of Pentos dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues, Tobos found me on the nearly finished deck of a new merchant galley, inspecting the mast. "Kaelen," he rasped, his voice weak. "You're the best I've ever taught. Better than me, truth be told. You could take over this yard. Make it truly great."
I looked at him, at the years etched on his face, the life he had lived. "My thanks, Master Tobos," I said, a genuine warmth in my voice. I had come to respect him greatly. "But my journey is not yet done. There are still many horizons to explore, many currents to understand."
He nodded slowly, a knowing look in his rheumy eyes. "Aye, I thought as much. Some men are built for one place. Others... for the world. You're the latter, Kaelen. Go. Build your fortunes. Just remember the old shipwright who taught you to tie a good knot."
"I will," I promised. "And thank you, Master Tobos. For everything."
I left Pentos a master shipwright, a quiet observer of trade, and a man with thirty more years of experience in this strange new world. My next destination lay far to the east, a place of ancient wisdom and even more ancient secrets: Yi Ti. I needed to see its wonders, absorb its culture, and perhaps uncover more pieces for my grand puzzle. My empire wouldn't just be strong; it would be wise, adaptable, and far-seeing.