The azure sea was perfectly calm, save for the slow, steady beat of drums and the gentle gliding of oars. The large merchant ship, the Seidurion, groaned, its heavy tow ropes taut, its sails hanging pitifully from the masts, motionless.
Ahead lay the Summer Sun and the Playful Jossau, two oarsmen, each with two hundred oars and a strong crew.
Now, the Seidurion, with its large belly, massive sails, and overflowing cargo, could only move forward slowly and painfully, towed by the ropes released from the oarsmen ahead.
Even so, standing on the foredeck, holding the gilded sword given to him by Illyrio at his waist, gazing at the clear blue sky, Viserys felt a sense of joy.
This morning, after bidding farewell to his treasurer at the port, Viserys, along with his sister, his personal maid, his newly recruited knight, and his eunuch guard—a group of five—boarded the Seidurion, their first stop on their planned journey to Myr.
Deeply moved by their bond, the king and his subject held hands and spoke for a long time at the port before reluctantly parting.
The night before his departure, Viserys instructed his treasurer to change the price of the dragon bone pendant and solemnly told Illyrio to make sure anyone inquired about it and that he would be informed. He also urged Illyrio to hurry north, to move in unison with him, so that the forces of the Seven Kingdoms would see their actions and follow suit.
Illyrio readily agreed to the king's orders, and the king's riddle was quickly deciphered.
"Warriors, grant them courage and victory, and they will wield your shining sword to cleanse the world of all evil."
The prayer came from the Warriors chapter of the Seven Star Bible, the words of a warrior blessing the forty-four sons of Hugo, King of the Hills.
The king was clearly in high spirits and full of confidence, ready to embark on his great cause of restoring his kingdom.
"Your Excellency," Captain Glory spoke to Viserys in Valyrian with a heavy Pentos accent, "it seems we'll encounter a storm on our voyage. The weather in the Narrow Sea is always like this; there's no wind for days before and after a storm."
Glory was a middle-aged captain with dark hair and a full black beard, an old Pentos like his master, Illyrio.
Glory possessed an old-fashioned composure and experience, and spoke Common, Valyrian, and several other regional dialects. He claimed to have been sailing for twenty years, having visited the Summer Sea, the Jade Sea, and Sothros. The route from Pentos to the Summer Sea was the one he knew best.
The night Viserys met Glory, Illyrio had instructed Glory to treat Viserys as he would treat him, to address Viserys as "Your Excellency."
Glory had given the "Your Excellency" the best cabin on the merchant ship; at least outwardly, he treated Viserys with utmost respect.
Viserys said, "I'm not afraid of storms, I only hope that after the storm comes the north wind, so we can get to Myr quickly."
The Narrow Sea was often stormy, and Viserys and Daenerys had crossed it dozens of times during their exile, fleeing from one free city-state to another.
Viserys always said they were just one step ahead of the usurper's assassins.
Life at sea occupied almost half of their exile. As
the ship sailed away from Pentos, Viserys saw a rare, genuine smile on Daenerys's face.
Undoubtedly, her time in Pentos had been very difficult; the pungent saltiness of the sea air on the ship, and the feeling of freedom she experienced upon seeing the boundless ocean under the vast sky, brought her joy.
While Viserys spoke to the captain, she quietly leaned against the deck railing, watching the dolphins swimming and playing beside the Cyduion, occasionally eavesdropping on Viserys' conversations with others.
She would never have dared to do this before.
"My lord, a north wind is a terrible sign of winter. And even with the wind, it will take seven or eight days to reach Myr." Ser Jorah Mormont came to the foredeck and stood beside Viserys. "We've just left Pentos Bay."
Even in this heat, Ser Jorah preferred to sweat profusely, wearing his chainmail and leather coat, his dark green cloak embroidered with a man-of-pearl bear always by his side.
Ser Jorah had a bull-like neck and shoulders, his arms and chest covered in thick black hair, while his head was completely bald. He naturally gave off an impression of honesty and kindness, and his smile always put those he met at ease.
The night Illyrio introduced him to Viserys, the exiled knight, upon hearing Viserys's identity, offered to serve him.
"You offer your allegiance to me on our first meeting?" Viserys didn't rush to agree, asking his request, "What do you want from me?"
"Honor," he said. "Serving the king is an honor."
Viserys said, "You're not being honest enough; that's not the mark of a knight."
"This is no empty boast. Fighting for the king brings me honor," he said earnestly. "I was banished by King Robert, stripped of everything, and lost all. I wish to serve you, hoping you will grant me honor. Only by helping you regain the throne can I hope to return home."
It was a plausible excuse, and Viserys, not wanting to listen to his lies any longer, readily agreed to his allegiance, and Mormont became his bodyguard.
Viserys kept Jorah for the same reason he had initially chosen to stay in the Court of Illyrio: never underestimate the power and resolve that high-ranking figures like King Robert and Varys could mobilize. The beggar king was destined to be surrounded by such people, whether he was like this now, or sought other paths as a mercenary or something else.
The wolf pit next to him would be occupied by either Jorah, Kara, Rajo, or some other unknown character not mentioned in the original work. He could directly identify Jorah as a wolf pit based on the text. But if it were someone more talented, without mind-reading abilities, how could he be sure who would rise to power, gradually becoming his right-hand man, and ultimately betray him?
Would he be expected to be shocked and say, "Are you still around, Brutus?
" Viserys asked him, "Is your horse settled?" Just as Jorah refused to remove his chainmail, he also refused to leave his horse with Illyrio, so the captain cleared a space for it below deck.
"Yes, sir," they all replied in unison, addressing him as Lord Viserys.
"You've come at the right time. It's so hot; tell me what the North is like."
Captain Glory, not wanting to listen in, made an excuse to leave.
Butch, the eunuch guarding Daenerys, was a taciturn man; he could go an entire day without uttering a word.
Jorah was sweating profusely from the sun, his throat burning, but he still responded respectfully, "What would you like to hear, my lord?"
Viserys casually struck up a conversation with him, "Is there snow in the North at this time of year?"
—
Jon Snow casually grabbed a handful of snow from the ground, rolled it into a snowball in his hand, and threw it at the trees in front of him.
The snowball exploded in the middle of a tree trunk thirty paces away, leaving a puddle of snow on its surface.
He mentally cheered for himself.
Ghost raised its head, its red eyes staring at the spot where Jon had thrown the snowball for a moment, then quietly sat down at Jon's feet.
Jon bent down and affectionately stroked its head: "Watch closely, the next one, I can hit it next one too."
Ghost grew very quickly. When he first found it, it was barely bigger than Jon's palm, but in just over a week, it had grown to be about the same size as the cats in the castle. At first, Jon could only feed it with a towel soaked in milk, worrying every day that it would die. Now, it could eat minced meat, chewing on chicken bones incessantly, and growing bigger every day.
News of the King's impending arrival at Winterfell had spread throughout the city. Although the King had already departed some time before the news reached Winterfell, the journey from King's Landing to Winterfell was long, and the King's carriage was moving slowly. Lord Eddard predicted the King would arrive in two weeks. Upon
receiving the news, Lord Eddard immediately dispatched Captain Jori Caesar with the Honor Guard south along the Kingsroad, instructing him to meet the King at the Wheel Palace before he crossed the Neck.
Along the route from the First Men's Graveyard to Winterfell, there were few inns or towns to rest in. After nightfall, the King and his entourage would have to camp wherever they could find shelter. Without the help of Northerners familiar with the terrain, they feared they would leave a bad impression. Inside
the city, Jon's half-brothers and sister were receiving urgent training in the etiquette of meeting the royal family.
No one had time to train or play with Jon. Jon had wanted to beg his father for permission to go out of town with the patrol—wild men had been crossing the Wall lately—but Lord Eddard was always busy, and by the time Jon thought he had time, the patrol had already left.
He found the town unusually hot these past few days and couldn't stand it. So he rode out of town himself, riding for a while on the road between Winterfell and the now deserted winter town. He was resting near the city gate.
After riding and breathing in some cool air, he felt much better.
Lately, Jon had been having trouble sleeping at night, frequently having vivid dreams of a vast, cloud-shrouded sea.
Jon had never seen the sea, only getting a vague impression from the maesters and the books in Winterfell's archives; he didn't understand why he had such dreams.
This had improved considerably after he found Ghost and devoted himself to raising it, but occasionally he was still troubled by these vague and strange dreams.
A new snowball was formed in his hands. He tossed it casually, and it hit the tree trunk squarely.
Before he could cheer himself on, a soft thud came from behind him, and a snowball exploded a few steps away. He and Ghost turned around and saw a small figure waving at him from the south gate wall.
Jon couldn't help but smile; judging from the look, his little sister Arya must have skipped etiquette class again.
Jon led his horse back to the city, handed it to the stable boy in the stable, and quickly climbed the stone steps up the wall.
When Jon arrived, Arya was teasing her wolf cub. "Little sister, shouldn't you be in etiquette class right now?"
Arya made a face at him. "Etiquette class? It's more tiring than sewing class." She picked up the wolf cub and placed it next to Ghost, who was quietly following behind Jon. "See, it's because I didn't spend as much time with Nymeria as you do that she didn't grow as big as Ghost."
Arya named the wolf cub after the legendary warrior queen who led her people across the Narrow Sea.
Ghost was the fastest-growing and tallest of the wolves. It sniffed Nymeria, who was beside Arya, gently nibbled her ear, and then sat quietly at Jon's feet.
Jon actually wanted to talk to Arya longer, but at the last minute, he warned her with a grown-up tone, "If you're gone too long, Sister Mordan will definitely send someone to inform your mother. If Lady Stark finds out you skipped class again, you definitely won't be able to come out of your room to see us when we're training in the training grounds."
"I know. Why do you talk like Father?" Arya got up with a helpless look, shoving the wolf cub at Jon. "Jon, watch over Nymeria for me. I'll come back to find her after class."
Arya was always quick and decisive; as soon as she finished speaking, she got up and ran off. Luckily, there was a bridge connecting the main castle and the armory at the south gate; otherwise, she definitely wouldn't have been able to run back and forth between the walls and the main castle in the short ten-odd minutes during Sister Mordan's break in etiquette class.
Jon, carrying Nymeria, watched his little sister run away, a wide grin spreading across his face.
His mood instantly brightened.
—The
night Viserys left Pentos. A ghost market on the coast outside Pentos.
"What, the market's closed?"
Viserys had left in a hurry; Illyrio still had to send people to clean up the mess. To meet the Beggar King's demand for dragon bones, he had found some cheap goods, thinking they would be useful for a long time.
Acquiring low-priced goods of dubious origin was one of the Merchant Governor's businesses. His connections had recently attracted many people to sell stolen goods.
"I brought some good stuff this time," a thin, scarred man said indignantly. "You won't even take a look?"
The person in charge ignored him: "Go somewhere else. Good things always sell. I'm closing up shop."
He pleaded, "Nowhere else can I find prices as fair as yours. Take a look?"
The person in charge ignored him and left.
"Damn it." After the man was gone, he cursed. "What a wasted trip." He grumbled as he left, not intending to look elsewhere, and went straight back to his fishing boat.
Before the man could row away... The manager, now dressed differently, approached him and got straight to the point: "Look what good stuff this is. If it's genuine, my master won't take it, but I can."
The man smiled broadly, put his hands in his pockets, and poured a crystalline object from a tattered bag.
The manager's eyes lit up.
Calling it dragon bone was an understatement; it was more like a sapphire, the dragon bone serving as an embellishment.
Such a pure sapphire was rare, a deep sea blue, beautifully transparent, and virtually flawless.
They were regulars, and both parties seemed sincere; the transaction was quickly completed in the fishing boat's hold.
Neither of them realized then that this would be their last transaction.
That night, the fisherman, who made his living by fishing and occasionally acquired ill-gotten gains, drowned after falling into the sea from his boat while drunk.
A few days later, this business manager, many levels below Illyrio, became one of the drunkards who drowned in the Pentos Canal.
Your Majesty the Queen, Your Majesty, Your Grace, Your Highness, Your Excellency, My Lord…
I've noticed some people get hung up on titles. Actually, English has many honorifics. In fact, besides these, George R.R. Martin used a wide variety of titles for powerful figures, employing many Old English words; there's bound to be one that fits.
.....
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(End of Chapter)