Year 108 A.C.
POV: Denovan
Two weeks had passed since we left the capital and entered the open sea.
I wasn't arriving in the North, and to be honest, I wanted to be. I wanted to go back to the forges. I wanted to hammer the metal until my arms ached and create a new axe—a stronger one, with active runes this time. Even though Melika and I hadn't yet managed to successfully inscribe runes of power onto inorganic materials, I had several ideas and experiments in my head. Perhaps trying to use dragon horns or even the dragon bones that the Targaryens keep stored; sending Heimdall to snatch a piece shouldn't be that difficult. That was something I definitely had to think about.
But my return wasn't the only thing occupying my mind. In the coming weeks, my creatures would begin returning to the docks of Scalebay, and when that happened, an immigration unlike anything the North has ever experienced would begin. Perhaps something of this scale, with this amount of people crossing the North, had never been witnessed, except during the flight of the Free Folk during the Long Night.
By my count, about seventy thousand wildlings from various clans and tribes would gather in Scalebay in six months at most. Scalebay would become a city comparable to those in the South, larger and more inhabited than many of them.
To sustain this, I needed many things. The first and most critical was food, but with the deal I struck with Viserys, I believe that would be resolved in the short term.
The second was the economy. The Free Folk had no currency; most things were done through barter and direct exchange. Starting to use the gold dragon of the South would bring us into the commercial sphere of influence of the Seven Kingdoms, but there was no other way. We needed a strong currency because, if we didn't, we wouldn't be able to organize a trade capable of sustaining the growth of a real city.
And there was a third point, something I had been thinking about since I realized that the war in the Stepstones was imminent: the slaves.
I knew I would face the Triarchy, and I built my plans around that. The first step of my strategy would be to use Orochi tirelessly. I would have the enormous sea serpent attack the bottom of the corsair ships, dazing and drawing the pirates' attention, creating enough panic for my men to board and seize as many intact fleets as possible. I needed those ships to return to the North, embark more warriors, and bring a real army to the Narrow Sea.
The second step was what I would do with the live cargo that the Triarchy so loved to trade. I was going to take the slaves to the North. And when I say slaves, I don't mean the captured pirates—those, with rare exceptions, would be put to the edge of the blade.
I was talking about the captives being traded in the slaver galleys that crossed these waters. It might seem morally gray, or even a selfish move on my part, and I don't deny that. But it is necessary. Bringing this labor to the North, especially those who were "trained" in the Free Cities and Slaver's Bay, would be the key to educating my people and bringing technical knowledge.
They would no longer be slaves, obviously. They could come and go; they would have freedom. But I would make sure to make them comfortable enough that they would want to stay and help me build a true nation. Some of these captives knew dozens of languages and knew how to handle numbers; others had worked in shipbuilding, civil engineering, complex weapon forging, fine weaving, and even glassmaking. All of this was exactly what the true North needed to emerge from the Bronze Age—which we had only entered because of my current influence, and that was only in Scalebay; the rest of the North was even worse, with the exception of the Thenns.
Returning to the slaves, I wasn't going to free slaves just out of compassion and kindness. I would free them out of necessity.
I drew in a deep breath, feeling the salt invade my lungs. The climate there was very different from what I and my men were used to. It was hot and extremely humid. If it weren't for the runic tattoos that regulated body temperature and increased endurance, my pale-skinned warriors would probably already be fainting from the heat and conditions totally different from what they were accustomed to.
I had to thank Melika for that. And just thinking about Melika and the runes, the memory of our last conversation in Scalebay resurfaced.
I sighed, leaning my head against Fenrir's body.
And then I remembered R.O.B. At first, I thought he had just given me a post-life wish and gone on his way, leaving me here to live my own choices independently, without ever interfering again. But when Melika told me how she had learned runic magic and described his appearance—how he appeared in her dreams... the pieces clicked.
"How much of my life is being manipulated?" I murmured low, my voice lost in the wind.
It might seem strange, but realizing this didn't bother me that much. After all, I had already learned a basic lesson about existence: nothing, not in this life, nor in my past life, and much less in any possible reality, is free. Nothing. Everything must be conquered in some way. And if he was moving the pieces so I would have the necessary tools, it meant that the challenges to come would be proportional—after all, that way he would have his entertainment.
Wanting to push away these philosophical thoughts, I quickly slid my consciousness out of my body.
My vision blurred and reopened from high above, in the clouds. I was in Heimdall's body. The sea eagle was completely in his element. The improvements that blood magic in the egg provided him had made him something out of the ordinary. He was much larger than any normal eagle and had vision and intelligence sharp as razors.
Flying over the blue immensity, I located our six drakkars, sailing close to each other. But, as I expanded my vision, I saw something further ahead. It was a ship of reasonable proportions, wide and with a deep draft. A merchant transport ship.
I hadn't noticed it from the deck, but the aerial view didn't lie. I flapped my powerful wings and dived toward the vessel to investigate.
As I approached, I landed silently at the top of the main mast, blending into the tangle of ropes, and decided to observe.
The sailors moved from side to side efficiently, but without military rigor. They wore clean, decent clothes, and most didn't display the silver rings, gold teeth, or extravagant adornments typical of pirate scum. They didn't look like warriors.
I closed Heimdall's eyes and focused entirely on my enhanced hearing, filtering the noise of the wind and waves to try and catch what kind of ship that was.
Mundane conversations and complaints about the heat dominated the deck. But, near the helm, a low-toned discussion caught my attention.
"Captain... how long until we reach the Stepstones?" asked a young man, leaning against the railing.
"Maybe two days, if the winds help," the captain's gruff voice replied.
"I'm not doubting your decisions, Captain, but... will we not be killed by the Triarchy pirates as soon as we deliver the goods?"
The captain let out a long sigh. "They won't kill us, Louis. Few merchants dare to deliver quality weapons and supplies to the men of that wretch, the Crabfeeder. No one wants to get involved with them. If they kill us, who is going to keep their fleet armed and their bellies full?"
"Well... they are corsairs, Captain," the young man retorted, hesitant. "They steal by nature. I don't think they'll have the decency to pay us after our crates are already on their beach."
"And what are you implying, boy? That we should turn back now and go home empty-handed? We've just started on this trade route; we have little credibility. We have to take every profitable opportunity that comes along... And rest assured, we've already been paid. Half in advance by the magisters of the Triarchy. We just have to leave the merchandise there and come back in one piece. Only that."
I opened the eagle's eyes, my beak opening in a silent hiss. These guys seemed interesting, but also too stupid. They were inexperienced, terrified merchants making suicide deliveries to the Stepstones. Trading with pirates expecting honesty? And worse: they were carrying supplies for our direct enemies.
I left Heimdall perched on the merchant's mast to act as a living beacon. I knew instinctively the direction of all my creatures, and at this distance, the "signal" in my mind was quite clear.
I slid my consciousness back into my human body. I blinked, feeling the wood of the drakkar on my back. I was sitting on the deck, in exactly the same position, leaning against Fenrir's warm, furry belly.
I stood up with a leap, stretching my neck with a loud crack, and called the crew's attention.
"Men! Break time is over. We're going to have a little action!"
The warriors, who until then seemed relaxed, fishing or quietly telling stories, immediately straightened up. Fierce gazes turned toward me.
"Pull in the sails! Get to the oars!" I ordered, pointing south. "Row faster. We're going to intercept a supply ship a few miles ahead."
"Finally!" bellowed Morn, spitting into the sea and rubbing his thick palms. "It's been a while since we stretched our bones! Move, you lazy dogs!"
As soon as I announced the attack, the surface of the sea beside our drakkar bubbled. Orochi poked his enormous scaly head out of the water and hissed, his reptilian eyes gleaming with anticipation.
While the men settled onto the benches and grabbed the long wooden oars, I continued the instructions.
"They look like just southern merchants on their first dangerous voyage," I warned. "But the problem is they are taking good resources directly to the pirates. Likely fleets paid for by the magisters of the Triarchy."
They probably didn't care about this information; it was more of an excuse for me to take something from a merchant, and also to warn them not to massacre everyone on that ship.
I took my two newly acquired tomahawks and secured them to my belt. "The approach will be fast. Orochi, you're not going to show your face and devour anyone this time. I want the boat whole. They are just businessmen and some scared sailors. You can handle them with brute force, right?"
Fould gave a raspy laugh from the front bench. "Don't think we're that weak, Chief. We don't need a giant serpent to scare merchants."
"You might not be that strong, old man, but these southern sissies are even weaker," teased another warrior, pointing at Fould and hitting the oar. "We don't need the beast's help for this!"
I gave a wild smile. "Then pick up the pace! Let's take our first prize today!"
The marking drum began to beat. The oars hit the water in unison, and the drakkars leaped forward. Longships like ours could wear out a rowing crew, but they possessed an absurd tactical advantage: immediate acceleration. Even though we were in the open sea, the water was reasonably calm, and it didn't take long for the merchant to appear on the horizon.
When the thick sails of the transport ship became visible to my entire fleet, a warning shout rang out from high in the enemy's crow's nest. They saw us.
The merchant boat immediately hoisted all extra sails and tried to change course, initiating a tense pursuit. My warriors strained their muscles to the limit, the runic tattoos glowing faintly under the sweat as the drakkars closed the distance meter by meter.
But the wind was in their favor. The merchant was large and caught a strong air current. I realized that, at that pace, my men would be physically exhausted before they were close enough to launch the hooks.
I wasn't going to waste time with an exhausting chase like that. It was time to cheat a little.
I sent the mental command. Beneath the waters, Orochi shot forward like a silent, dark torpedo.
The colossal serpent swam well below the hulls of the drakkars, bypassed us unnoticed, and reached the bow of the merchant ship. Then, she did exactly what I asked. Instead of attacking the hull to pierce it, Orochi used all the weight of her massive body. In a quick and brutal movement, the serpent headbutted with her horns directly against the lower side of the merchant's bow, well below the waterline.
BOOM!
The dull sound of the impact echoed through the sea. The transport ship shuddered violently, veered sharply, and tilted to port in a terrifying way. The destabilization was total. The vessel lost the wind's course at once, the sails snapped confusedly, and the ship's speed plummeted immediately. I could hear the shouts of the sailors rolling across the slanted deck from where I was.
"Now! Accelerate!" I shouted.
With the target practically stopped and swaying to recover, the drakkars tore through the water and, in a matter of minutes, slammed against the high wooden sides of the merchant.
"Hooks!"
The ropes with iron tips flew through the air, hooking into the enemy's railing. My Marcas did not hesitate. They began to climb the sides of the ship like angry ants.
I jumped, using the power of the runes in my legs to propel my heavy body, and landed heavily on the enemy deck, drawing my tomahawks.
"Attack, but do not massacre!" I roared to my men. "Leave as few dead as possible! Light weapons!"
The sailors and the few armed guards on the ship tried to resist. But it was a one-sided fight. My warriors were monstrous; they didn't need to use lethal tactics. They disarmed the guards with brutality and agility using the non-cutting sides of their weapons, knocking men to the ground with shields and using the flat parts of the axes to knock them out.
Only the guards who were stupid enough to charge furiously with unsheathed swords were killed. In less than fifteen minutes, the deck of the merchant ship was under our control.
I walked through the middle of my warriors, blood splattered on my boots, to the center of the deck. The surviving crew was on their knees, hands on their heads, trembling. The Marcas surrounded the perimeter, weapons in hand.
In the middle of them was the captain I had overheard. He was pale, a superficial cut on his forehead staining his face with blood.
I went down to the cargo hold accompanied by the captain, under the escort of two of my warriors. When they forced open the storage door, my eyes gleamed. There were some crates of food, grains, and salted meat, but the true prize lay in the heavy wooden boxes stacked in the back.
They were crammed with weapons.
I pulled the lid off one of them and found dozens of longswords, scimitars, some tomahawks—all made of steel. In another, reinforced shields. In the next, chainmail and sharp spears. It was enough equipment to arm a small southern army. Exactly what I lacked to balance the forces of the True North. The food wasn't much, but the value of that steel was incalculable for my people.
Satisfied, I closed the box again and faced the captain, who was leaning against the wall, breathing with difficulty. I tilted my head and tossed the bloody tomahawks at my feet.
"Let's have a frank talk, Captain," I said, my voice calm and deep. "The Triarchy sent these weapons to supply the pirates in the Stepstones. You tell me the truth now, and I'll let you and your men go back alive with your own ship and a portion of this food. Lie to me, and you'll swim to the coast without your legs."
The man swallowed hard, trying to maintain some proud posture before the giant man in front of him. "Cursed giant... I didn't know the Ironborn were coming down this far to raid. I won't tell you anything."
For a moment, I blinked, confused. But soon I let out a raspy, genuine laugh.
"Ironborn? Ha! We aren't those squid-worshippers, Captain. Far from it," I said in an amused tone, crossing my large arms. "We're just men who need decent weapons. Or rather... men who don't like the Triarchy pirates one bit. The exact same pirates you were going to fund with these swords."
The captain hesitated, looking from my scarred face to the giant, tattooed warriors blocking the exit. He realized there was no glory in dying for a payment already received.
"The Triarchy... the magisters of Lys," he confessed, his voice trembling. "They paid us well. Said it was an essential delivery. Craghas Drahar, the Crabfeeder... he's going to intensify the attacks in the coming weeks. The Triarchy wants to ensure his fleet is armed and ready to close the Narrow Sea for good. This was to be our only business with them. It was too dangerous; we didn't intend to return to those waters ever again."
I frowned, absorbing the military information. "The Triarchy is funding this with a will, it seems. And you aren't the only idiots profiting from this, are you?"
The captain shook his head quickly. "No... there are dozens of similar routes."
I nodded, processing the enemy's logistics. I don't remember the exact date, but I remember that at some point the fight in the Stepstones would get increasingly fierce; perhaps that moment is now. Maybe I should intercept the supplies before clashing head-on with the Crabfeeder?
No... it wouldn't pay off. It makes more sense to kill the man himself, and as cruel as it may be, if I prolong this battle for two or three years, it would be good for me.
I pointed my finger at the man's chest. "Well, you were lucky to find me before the Targaryen fleet, Captain. I will keep my word and leave your boat intact and enough for you not to starve on the way back."
I brought my face close to his, my golden eyes piercing the southerner's soul. "But I'm going to give you a warning. If I see your sails again, or the faces of your men, carrying weapons toward the Stepstones again... I won't just take your cargo. I will take your ship and everything inside it and throw your men into the sea."
The man nodded frantically, terrified.
I turned my back and looked at my warriors who were awaiting the order.
"Take the steel crates! Carry them all to our hulls and set aside a portion of the food to restock our stores! Today, we eat the pirates' bread!" I said with amusement in my voice.