79 AC. Off the Coast of Volantis
Corlys stood upon the deck of his new vessel. The Sea Snake was a masterpiece of engineering—a first-rate ship of the line. At full complement, her crew numbered between 300 and 800 men. Ordinarily, such first-rate ships were outfitted with 40 to 98 cannons; however, since gunpowder had yet to be invented in Westeros, the ship was armed with scorpions, each reinforced by rune magic. This vessel stood centuries ahead of its contemporaries, a death sentence for any foe. Beyond its armaments, the Sea Snake was fortified with runes that surged its speed from a standard 11 knots to a staggering 20, while simultaneously doubling its cargo capacity.
The young captain had also provided his grandfather with blueprints for the galleon—a massive, multi-decked sailing vessel with formidable artillery, designed for both war and commerce. Within a mere decade, the Velaryon merchant and naval fleets had become the most dreaded force in the Narrow Sea.
Corlys had two motives for this voyage: first, to secure a lucrative trade agreement with the Volantene nobility; and second, to set sail for the shores of Valyria to plun—that is, to examine the ruins and return the remaining treasures to a rightful Valyrian family. His own, of course. It would be a pity to let such wealth go to waste.
Negotiations with the Volantenes were swift. Corlys managed to wrest a highly favorable deal from the greedy aristocrats. A touch of Legilimency was required, but who would ever know? As the saying goes: no evidence, no crime. With the easy task finished, Corlys needed to slip away to Valyria alone without arousing the suspicion of his escort. The crew had little trouble believing that a fourteen-year-old lad wished to spend his time sequestered with a few Valyrian beauties. In this ruse, Corlys was covered by his sworn shield, Adam Wright, whose loyalty was absolute after Corlys had healed his wife and daughter. Thus, Corlys had no doubts regarding Adam's discretion.
The Ruins of Valyria
Corlys approached the shores of Valyria on his broomstick, retrieved from his soul-vault. Now he understood why no one ever returned. Even if one were lucky enough to reach the peninsula, the toxic gases would choke the life from them. It was this poisonous atmosphere, rather than the monsters of legend, that rendered the land uninhabitable. Using magic, Corlys fashioned a mask that filtered the toxins, allowing him to breathe purified oxygen.
From above, he spotted a colossal skeleton and spiraled down. It was a dragon of gargantuan proportions, rivaling Balerion the Black Dread, perhaps even surpassing him. Beside it lay a human skeleton encased in armor with the unmistakable ripple and hue of a legendary metal. A closer inspection confirmed it: full Valyrian steel plate. Even the Targaryens lacked a complete suit of such armor, meaning this man hailed from an incredibly influential family within the Freehold. Corlys stripped the plate and vanished it into his bottomless vault.
It took him an hour to locate the city proper. Before him lay a haunting tableau: scorched skeletons littered the streets. He felt a pang of pity, imagining them in their final moments—fleeing the cataclysm only to be claimed by the suffocating air or the fires of the Fourteen Flames.
Even in ruin, the city's scale and grim beauty were breathtaking. Most buildings lay in rubble, yet he was struck by the sight of soaring towers, built in an almost identical style, that remained nearly pristine. Invoking his Mage Sight, Corlys saw why they had endured the devastation: the structures hummed with a magical aura that still shielded them after a century of neglect.
Examining a tower closely, Corlys realized the Valyrians had utilized a form of rune magic reminiscent of the Celtic school, yet fundamentally distinct. Inside, the decor remained untouched by time. Finding little of value on the lower floors, he ascended. On the fourth floor, he discovered an armory stocked with swords and spears of high-grade steel. But the true prizes were the dragonbone bows. Such weapons were impossible to find in either Westeros or Essos. The young Velaryon—young in body, if not in soul—swept it all into his vault and pressed on.
Several floors up, he stumbled upon a gallery. The great hall housed countless works of art: paintings, sculptures, glassware, artistic ceramics, and more. Grinning at his luck, Corlys carefully stowed them away.
An hour later, he reached what he assumed was a Lord's study. The contents of the room set his heart racing. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of books lined the shelves. Corlys had always thirsted for knowledge, and these tomes of a civilization that once conquered a continent awakened his inner Ravenclaw. A cursory glance at the titles revealed many dealt with the arcane. But what truly made him smirk were the blades mounted behind the Lord's desk. In Westeros, a single Valyrian steel sword was a mark of ultimate prestige. The royal family possessed but two. The family that owned this tower clearly dwarfed the Targaryens in status: ten Valyrian steel swords hung on the wall. Now, they belonged to House Velaryon. Documents in a cabinet identified the tower as the seat of House Regalion, the third most powerful family in the Freehold.
He found little else of note until he reached a magically sealed treasury. Using the Elder Wand, Corlys breached the wards. The sight was magnificent: a mountain of gold that would make even a Lannister salivate, regardless of their habit of throwing gold around like candy. Beside the coin lay heaps of precious gems and five additional sets of Valyrian steel armor.
For the next two days, Corlys repeated this process across nine other towers. They yielded vast riches: chests of gold, jewelry, tapestries, art, seventy-two more Valyrian steel blades, and a wealth of books. But the greatest treasure awaited him in the final tower, belonging to House Belroy. This family held the secret to forging Valyrian steel. The entire process was detailed in a thick volume kept in an enchanted crypt beneath the tower, alongside two tons of raw ingots. The forging process was arduous and required deep alchemical knowledge. Fortunately, Corlys had mastered alchemy under the tutelage of Nicolas Flamel in his previous life.
A surprise awaited him at the Bank of the Freehold. Protected by wards even more potent than the towers, the bank was unharmed. Its vaults held gold and gems totaling nearly fifty million Gold Dragons. Deep underground, he found the private vaults of the Dragonlords, containing books, Valyrian steel swords, and even staves crafted from the same metal.
Corlys was puzzled by the absence of dragon eggs. Even petrified ones would have been worth studying. He found his answer in a sprawling estate at the base of a mountain several kilometers from the city. This was the home of House Belaerys, who, according to discovered journals, bred and trained dragons. Corlys realized that compared to the Belaerys family, the Dragonkeepers of King's Landing were mere amateurs. House Belaerys had perfected the craft: from selective breeding for the strongest offspring to rigorous training. They had developed dietary programs supplemented by potions and specialized drills to enhance a dragon's speed and strength. Compared to a Belaerys-bred beast, a Targaryen dragon looked pitiable—like comparing a common wolf to a Stark direwolf. The entire methodology was preserved in the folios Corlys was now devouring.
As he moved the folios into his vault, Corlys felt a massive magical presence emanating from the mountain. Approaching the rock face, he encountered a barrier stronger than anything else on the peninsula. Channeling his magic, he shattered the ward and entered a cavern.
The heat inside was staggering. Following the magical aura, he cast Lumos to reveal rows of dragon egg incubators. They were covered in runic arrays designed to maintain the heat and life-force of the eggs. Placing a hand on one, Corlys felt the thrum of life within. It was genius; even after a century, this method had prevented the eggs from turning to stone. There were exactly fifty-two incubators. Corlys tenderly placed each one into his soul-vault.
It took a full week to scour the peninsula, but the rewards were beyond measure. The total haul included eighty million Gold Dragons, two tons of raw Valyrian steel, ninety swords, numerous daggers, and twelve suits of armor. This was not counting the books, art, and the dragon eggs—treasures men would kill to possess. This expedition had provided Corlys and his family with wealth and knowledge he intended to use to the fullest.
Thinking of the plans ahead, Corlys apparated back to his room in Volantis.
There was still much to be done.