The Far-Seer passed through the Stepstones without serious incident. The Myrish captain, still rattled by fear, handled the ship like a startled bird, driving her hard all the way until the walls of Tyrosh came into view. Only then did he finally slow, dropping anchor to replenish fresh water and supplies as quickly as possible.
A vast, clamorous city rose before Gendry's eyes. Tyrosh was a fortress city guarded by towering walls, perched at the northeastern edge of the Stepstones, not far from the mainland. Its inner walls were fused from black dragonstone, and the city was far larger than its Dornish neighbor, Sunspear. At the mouth of the harbor stood the Bleeding Tower, while within the city one could find the Fountain of the Drunken God.
"So lively," Gendry remarked as he watched ships constantly coming and going at the docks. Many of those hauling cargo on the piers were slaves, overseen by slave drivers. Most of the Free Cities were port cities, thriving on trade. Having never left King's Landing before, the sight of distant Tyrosh felt entirely different to him.
On the docks, Gendry saw people from many corners of the Known World. Those with dark skin came from the Summer Isles, while olive-skinned folk were most likely Dornish or Myrish. Tyroshi were the easiest to recognize. They were loud, flamboyant, and greedy, favoring vivid colors and dyeing their hair and beards in striking hues: blue, green, chestnut, pink, purple, scarlet, and vermilion.
"That is a Black Wall from ancient Valyria. The Valyrians built their military strongholds in this way," Maester Qyburn said, pointing toward Tyrosh's dark walls from the bow. The sea was calm, and most people were still resting.
By the standards of noble households, Gendry's education had begun very late. Qyburn could only do his best to pour out everything he knew, trying to make up for the years already lost. Fortunately, he soon discovered that Gendry's memory and understanding far surpassed the ordinary, greatly bolstering his confidence and sense of accomplishment.
"Magnificent relics," Gendry sighed. Valyria had been far ahead of its time: Valyrian roads, Valyrian Black Walls, dragonglass candles, the Forty Dragonlords of Valyria. After Valyria's fall, the world became a battlefield for barbarians. Even the Dothraki grew arrogant and unchecked. As for House Targaryen, which had narrowly survived the Doom, it had only been a middling dragonlord family in its day, with little grasp of core arts such as blood magic or advanced construction.
"The Black Wall of Volantis is even grander than Tyrosh's, and Volantis has the largest population," Qyburn said.
"Volantis. I haven't seen many Volantenes in King's Landing," Gendry replied.
"We'll go to Volantis one day. Though it suffered terribly during the Bloody Century, its foundations remain the strongest. There, you'll see the greatest Black Wall in the world, true Valyrian ruins."
"That would be wonderful," Gendry said.
"Valyria's achievements rested on the arts of blood and fire, on profound magic," Qyburn said, clearly absorbed by the subject. "Many claim magic has vanished, but I believe it has always existed. Like the tides, it has its highs and its lows. When the dragons disappeared, magic seemed to wane as well."
"Have you ever seen the stars and fire of magic yourself?" Gendry asked.
"Not yet," Qyburn replied, somewhat awkwardly. "But I believe it's possible. Still, magic cannot be forced. The Targaryens were forever obsessed with hatching dragons, and time and again that obsession ended in tragedy."
"But if that day truly comes, if you master the arts of blood and fire, awaken the blood of the storm, and call the Rhoyne back to life, then I'll share in a sliver of your glory."
"Easier said than done." As the ship prepared to depart, the two returned to the cabin.
"Prince, what you saw in Tyrosh is only one of the Free Cities, yet it is already so prosperous. If we gain support in Essos, whether we push forward or expand here, there will be countless opportunities," Qyburn said humbly.
"There's no need to call me that, Master Qyburn. I'm your apprentice, and a bastard with nowhere to retreat," Gendry replied.
"Great undertakings are born from hardship. Only with lofty goals can you achieve them," Qyburn said as before. "Allow me to explain the current state of Essos. Trade, especially the slave trade, is the core of its circulation." He produced a simple map of Essos.
"We've already left Tyrosh and will soon reach Myr. Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys once formed the Three Cities Alliance, but it collapsed long ago. Now the three cities restrain one another, while all of them resent Volantis. Pentos is the weakest, having already been defeated by Braavos. Volantis is greedy and arrogant, with almost no friends. Braavos stands apart, wealthy, powerful, and independent."
"As for Lorath, Qohor, and Norvos, they're of limited importance. What truly matters are these six great Free Cities and their constant entanglements and conflicts. Beyond them, the Dothraki are also a formidable threat, often crossing the Rhoyne to raid."
Gendry studied the map, noting how power was divided along the Rhoyne. Qohor controlled the lands from the Qhoyne River to Ar Noy. Volantis's influence extended only as far as the middle reaches of the Rhoyne, to the Sorrows. Between Ar Noy and the Sorrows lay a buffer zone between the two cities, and as a result, it had become the stretch of the Rhoyne most infested with river pirates.
'Qyburn's analysis is sound, though he probably never anticipated that someone would take aim at slavery itself and make an enemy of the entire world.'
"Essos is vastly different from Westeros in its systems, customs, and beliefs. No one has ever truly unified the continent. Most of its rulers are wealthy merchants, and their positions are anything but stable. It's really just a matter of titles."
"Triarchs, Archons, Magisters, or Sealords," Gendry said.
"Exactly! And they all have to be elected. That's their game!"
Qyburn looked out toward Myr, deep within Hornblower's Bay. "This is where our opportunity lies."
"The Disputed Lands." Gendry recognized the spot Qyburn had marked.
"Yes. Ever since the alliance of the Three Daughters collapsed, they've been fighting one another for control of this territory. It's kept plenty of Sellsword companies alive. And not far from there are the Stepstones, which are also considered no man's land."
The ideal was grand, but reality amounted to a single man.
Gendry studied the region. The Disputed Lands had once been fertile, but years of constant warfare had ravaged them, leaving their sovereignty unresolved to this day. Chaos was a ladder. Finding a Sellsword Company to hide among here would be easy enough.
'Always fighting and killing. If only I could get my hands on a dragon,' Gendry thought.
...
"A warhammer!"
"A full set of black scale armor, no helmet!" These were Gendry's spoils from killing the Goldtooth pirates. Plate armor and scale plate were the most expensive types of armor, so this counted as decent loot.
"The bastard from Driftmark gave me two golden dragons. Captain Dunstan of Myr gave me fifty gold ship coins, plus a handful of silver and copper. That's enough to live on for quite a while." Gendry looked over his money. Myrish coins were flat and oval, stamped with the image of a ship.
"And then there are the gifts. Dunstan's telescope, a tapestry from another guest, a little bit of spice, some fine wooden carvings…" Gendry felt that it was aboard the Far-Seer that he had truly earned his first real fortune.
The ship had already come within sight of Myr's coastline and city skyline. Before disembarking, Gendry took stock of his belongings one last time.