Volantis 281 AC
Volantis… one of the oldest cities in Essos, one of old Valyria's first colonies. The city dazzled with its magnificent walls rising around three great canals, its stone bridges and its harbors. The hot sun made the red stones of the ramparts gleam; in the harbor the clatter of ships and the rattling of the slave markets mixed together. At the heart of it all, in the aristocratic quarter known as Old Volantis, three great houses stood. The Galtigar family, who controlled the harbor and the slave trade, the Aerteris Family, who held religious and political power, and the Qoheros family, who controlled spices from the East and the gold mines.
Although these three houses sometimes spilled each other's blood, they were generally in a cold war; the balance was an element that must not be broken. But that balance had now taken on a shape some did not want...
In a grand mansion of Old Volantis, in a wide hall built of stone, a faint scent of spice and sea salt mixed in the air. Sunlight streaming from the high ceilings illuminated the maps on the table; yet the gloomy atmosphere about the harbor disaster made the shadows appear deeper. Trianna Qoheros sat at the head of the table in a black and gold-embroidered gown, her hands resting on the edge as she watched her advisers in silence. Her eyes held both anger and a carefully calculating expression.
Varion, white-haired and wizened, leaned his hands on the table and spoke:
— My lady, the harbor gangs have become thoroughly disorderly recently. Of our last five merchant ships, only two managed to profit from the harbor; the rest were looted.
His eyes were fixed on the map, each word piercing the silence of the hall.
— We must take measures now. We need to take steps to protect the harbor and secure our ships.
Muscular and bold Selrik spread his arms, the jingling of his light armor accompanying him:
— Taking measures won't help. Harbor control has been in the hands of the Galtigars for years and our ships are still being looted. The situation is clear… Political war seems about to give way to swords.
Cunning Dovran glanced at his notebook and intervened in a quiet voice:
— Perhaps undermining the enemy from within, secretly taking control of the harbor would be more effective. Open conflict would risk our family's reputation.
Trianna quietly scanned each of her advisers. She calculated inwardly: The harbor… again the harbor… The harbor is still in the Galtigars' hands, but our patience has a limit. Varion is right; measures must be taken. Selrik's anger is merciless but real… Dovran's suggestion is plausible, covert moves… But if we waste time we will be the ones to lose; furthermore, it is hard to predict the stance of Aerteris and the other minor houses — they will fight for any advantage, either with us or, worse, against us.
Trianna pressed her hands harder to the edge of the table and waited silently without taking her eyes off her advisers. Which step would protect House Qoheros; which would put it in danger? The time to decide had come, but what would she decide?
Just then the hall's ornate door was opened by two servants and a messenger entered,
— My lady, as you ordered, the Masked Devil has arrived and waits in the inner hall.
Trianna examined the messenger with tired but determined eyes; the man was respectful yet his legs trembled slightly and beads of sweat dotted his brow — he was clearly frightened.
— Bring him in.
She gave the order clearly.
— As you command, my lady!
At that moment Wise Varion looked at Trianna uncertainly.
— My lady, are you sure? This man could make things worse. I think it would be wiser to carry out our business without drawing the other houses' attention.
Military adviser Selrik thought very differently,
— The era of calm is over for us, Varion; it is blood time now and if we want to survive this conflict we need someone whose mere presence could win the battle.
While the two advisers argued, Dovran and Trianna grew quiet and continued to calculate. Trianna argued with herself inside,
\~The political war ended long ago; if my brother had not died maybe things would still be as before, but now the house is in a woman's hands and they will not respect that; they will throw everything they have at us. Now this can only be solved with blood.
As the meeting in Trianna Qoheros's hall continued, a silence fell with the creak of the heavy door. A shadow slipped inside; a Kuman mask, embroidered and completely covering the face, clad in chain armor decorated with black and red leather. The eye holes were sharp and angled, and the tooth motifs of the mask gave the impression of a terrifying smile.
The men whispered: "The Masked Devil Draven..."
His steps were heavy and sure, echoing on the stone floor. A few Kuman cavalrymen waited behind him; their masks and armor doubled the shadow. Each of his movements cast fear over the city and the meeting hall.
Varion was the first to react, eyes wide:
— Is this… the Masked Devil?
Selrik reached for his sword but stopped; the deadly resolve in Draven's eyes froze even him.
Dovran, quietly glancing at his notebook, whispered:
— Everyone in the city knows him… Politics aside, this man does his work mercilessly.
Trianna stood straight at the head of the table. The man known as the Masked Devil stood before her. Her inner monologue raced:
\~Fear and death… power and loyalty… This man could be used strategically. If he stands with me, we could defeat the Galtigars. But if uncontrolled, he could impose his own law.
Draven stopped and surveyed the hall silently. The look behind his mask conveyed not only death but also a message of assurance to his loyal soldiers. Then, in a deep, low, threatening voice, he spoke:
— You called, I came; what do you want?
The hall fell into silence for a moment; only the rasp of breath behind the mask could be heard. Trianna maintained her composed and measured posture as she studied the Masked Devil; she now knew he would be an important trump in Volantis's chaos, but how could she convince this man?
After a momentary silence Trianna signaled her attendants to leave; the advisers, reluctant though they were, gathered their notes and filed out one by one.
— I will explain the situation to you.
Trianna began to explain the situation with the map before her:
— The harbor gangs have gone out of control; recently nearly all of our merchant ships have been looted. The Galtigars still control the harbor, but we do not have time to wait. If we do not take action, control of the city will fall entirely into their hands.
Trianna pointed at the harbor entrances on the map with her fingers. Standing at the head of the table in her black and gold-embroidered gown, her face showed both determination and a hardness mixed with grief.
— If my father and brother were alive we might still be able to maintain the old balances, but now the house is in a woman's hands… and they will not respect that. They will do everything they can. We must restore balance to the harbor, the caravans, the gangs.
Her eyes met the gaze behind Draven's mask.
— What we need is not only to protect the harbor… but also to reinforce the enemy's fear. We must secure the caravan routes, silence the gangs, and show who truly rules Volantis. Your methods are ideal for this task.
Draven was silent for a moment; his eyes narrowed behind the mask as he weighed every word and felt the tension in the room. In a deep, low, threatening voice he asked:
— To silence the gangs? Do you mean to destroy them?
Trianna, hardening her voice, answered:
— Not so much to destroy… as to send a message. But when necessary, we will not hesitate to use your methods. Volantis must remember our prestige and the power of our house. I may be a woman, but I am a leader, and in the world these men are used to, only fear and resolve endure.
Behind his mask Draven seemed to smile faintly, then glanced at the Kuman cavalry behind him. Each stood like a shadow; their masks and long lances conveyed not only fear but the presence of death.
— Understood. The harbor, the caravans, the gangs…
Trianna looked at the map once more and thought to herself:
\~If my brother were alive we would not have to spill so much blood… But now for my house and our city this blood and fear are necessary.
At that moment something Trianna did not expect happened: Draven strode to the table, his masked gaze locked onto her. In a low and threatening voice he said:
— Let me remind you… I am a free man; no one can give me orders and no one can oppose me; do not forget this will not be free.
Trianna paused for a moment, facing the cold horror behind the mask. Still she did not step back; she took a deep breath and pushed the small chest on the table toward Draven. The lid was ajar; several gleaming pouches of coin and a few engraved valuable seals could be seen inside.
— I know… you say it will not be free. That is why I offer something tangible: if you secure the harbor and the caravan routes, both reward and certain authorities will be yours. Controlling the harbor and the gangs will be your domain… and you will see the return yourself.
Draven's masked face seemed to show a faint smile as he touched his finger to the chest, then nodded slightly:
— Hmmm… tangible and rewarding… good. But remember, my path is drawn with blood and fear. The harbor, the caravans, and the gangs… they will all pay.
Trianna watched the masked figure's resolve and ruthless manner in silence, thinking to herself:
\~This man is free and merciless… but a concrete reward has caught his attention. If I direct him correctly, Volantis's chaos can turn in our favor.
— Then it's agreed. Begin and bring me results. We will discipline the harbor, the caravans, and the gangs by your methods.
Draven nodded slightly and then looked at the Kuman cavalry. The Masked Devil was ready to move in Volantis's shadow; fear and death would spread through the city with his steps.
After receiving the necessary information and maps from his two cavalry commanders, Draven left the manor; at that very moment a hologram appeared before his eyes that only he could see:
ARMY SYSTEM
NAME: DRAVEN
CLAN: KUMAN BEY
STATUS: MERCENARY (THE MASKED DEVIL)
LOCATION: VOLANTIS
YEAR: 281 AC
POINTS: 500 P
CALLS: KUMAN CAVALRY (20 MEN)
STORE (REFILLS MONTHLY):
-KUMAN CAVALRY (10 MEN) - 1000 P
-ROMAN LEGION (10 MEN) - 3000 P
-MONGOL HORSEMEN (10 MEN) - 5000 P
ACTIVE MISSION: QOHEROS' LOST GLORY
-After losing many of its men, Qoheros lost its honor under a woman's leadership; now the other houses see them as easy prey. By seizing the harbor and the gangs, restore them to their former glory.
CONDITIONS:
-HARBOR SECURED
-GANGS INTIMIDATED/ELIMINATED
MISSION REWARD: 1000 P
Yes, Draven was no ordinary man; he had been transferred into this world like the characters in the novels he had read in his previous life.
In his previous life he had been the son of a stern-tempered history professor; his life had passed in a room called a study reading books, his only entertainment sources were TV series and films — among these series Game of Thrones was his favorite. When he opened his eyes in this world he was in Volantis; trapped in this den of evil in Essos until the system provided him on its first free draw with 20 Kuman soldiers and equipment. With those soldiers he began mercenary work and soon became famous especially in Volantis; the terrifying Kuman mask combined with a 100% mission completion rate and his ruthlessness earned him the nickname the Masked Devil. Now he had a chance to take the reins in Volantis and he would not waste it. The Kuman soldiers who once shook the Black Sea in his previous life would now shake Essos.
When the heavy doors of Trianna's hall closed, Draven's footsteps echoed along the marble corridor. His two most trusted commanders, Dragan and Varek, walked silently behind him. At the exit, as the cool air of the dark courtyard hit their faces, Draven spoke without removing his mask.
— This will bring gold and power, but it will also demand blood. Taking Volantis's harbor is harder than looting a caravan. Galgitar's dogs will not retreat easily.
Dragan was large, his face marked by old sword scars, a man born in battle. He leapt in with his harsh voice:
— The harbor gangs are disordered. We can crush them with a direct attack. A few night raids, hang their dead in the squares… fear will be enough.
Varek, lean but sharp-eyed, was a strategist; he put his fingers to his chin and thought:
— Fear is good, but not enough. The Galtigars' money is behind the gangs. If we do not destroy their roots, we will only cut off heads; new ones will grow in their place. First secure the caravan routes, dry up their income. Starved gangs will not last long.
Draven was silent for a while, sizing up his two commanders behind the mask. Finally, in a deep and icy voice, he decided:
— Both will happen. First we cut off their income, then we crush them with fear. Night raids… but planned. I want the harbor folk to wake up in the morning and tremble with horror as corpses stare at them from our masks.
Dragan's eyes lit up.
— We'll hang the bodies on poles; sailors won't dare step into the harbor when they see them.
Varek nodded and added in a low voice:
— And in the meantime we seize the caravans. No income, no hope. Fear and hunger… will bring the Galtigars' gangs to their knees.
As Draven strode forward he spoke his final word:
— Good. The first raid is tomorrow night. Volantis will learn to breathe in the Masked Devil's shadow.
That night a silence fell over Volantis, the quiet before the storm...