[Chapter Size: 3500 Words.]
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Third Person POV
Braavos, 300 AC.
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The sounds of the city were clear. The seagulls, the noise of boats passing through the waters of the countless canals, blended with the constant movement of the largest city in Essos.
It was impossible to reach any part of the city without crossing water. Many buildings could only be accessed by boat, scattered throughout the canals that cut through Braavos in every direction.
In any case, Braavos was the largest commercial hub connecting Westeros and Essos. It was also the place where the world's greatest financial negotiations took place, housing the Iron Bank.
Even powerful and wealthy cities such as Pentos and Myr could not compete with Braavos. Its size and influence were far greater than those of any other Free City in Essos.
And, a few moons before Jon left the Riverlands, a man was running through the halls of the Sealord's mansion carrying a scroll.
The Sealord himself, Moro Nestoris, was seated beside another man, Moredo of Qarth, discussing a business deal, while one of Braavos's courtesans remained at his side, serving drinks and keeping company during the conversation with the Sealord.
By coincidence, the meeting involved an attempt to replicate the Arctican ships themselves. Years earlier, the Queen's Crown had been exchanged for ten of them when the Arctican king visited the city during the first meeting. Later, that same crown would rest upon the head of Daenerys Targaryen as one of the queens of Arctic.
The deal had generated enormous profits for the Iron Bank keyholder who had possessed the crown.
The crown had been sold for almost nothing when Viserys Targaryen fell into poverty and began living as a beggar alongside his sister. Later, it ended up in the hands of one of the Iron Bank's keyholders for a much higher price, which was still highly profitable for the keyholder.
And later, the value of the crown became insignificant compared to what they received in exchange.
Ten ships. The most technologically advanced ships of their era. And they were the ships the Braavosi had been trying to replicate for years. Or, at least, trying to.
The way those vessels sailed was superior to any other in the world. But every attempt to reproduce them ended in failure.
Perhaps that was exactly why Jon Arctic had sold them so easily. The ship was easy to replicate in theory, since they had managed to dismantle it, though with some difficulty, and study its entire structure while mapping every part of its construction.
The problem was that none of their attempts to recreate the ship had worked completely. The type of wood used allowed for a unique system of curves, as well as a design that made the vessel both light and durable at the same time. But the same wood was impossible to replicate, as it could not be found in any known tree anywhere in the world.
Despite that, there were positive outcomes from the project, as the engineers became fascinated with the Arctican ships, particularly the hydraulic system located beneath the hull. No one else used anything similar at that time.
The system consisted of a water tank at the bottom of the ship, which helped balance the vessel and prevented it from capsizing during storms or extremely rough seas.
Because of this, Arctican ships suffered almost no losses, even while sailing in conditions that would destroy other vessels. It was a technology that Braavos viewed favorably, and this was one part they were actually able to reproduce. Although it made their ships heavier as a trade-off...
So, the real problem was the wood; creating the same type of ship was impossible. For years, that left them frustrated.
No one knew what species of tree was used. It had similarities to the North's ironwood, but it was different.
Lighter, stronger.
That was why, at that meeting, someone had been hired directly from Qarth, with the intention not only of trying to reproduce the same ships using rare trees from the mountains south of Essos... but the true purpose was to secure expeditions into Sothoryos, since the Greenhell contained every kind of strange tree imaginable.
It would be another attempt. None of the previous experiments had been completely useless. In fact, thanks to those ships, the Braavosi had managed to create better vessels through the new style of construction.
Even so, they remained far inferior to Arctican ships. There was still the issue of the hydraulic system, which ultimately made the ships slower than ordinary vessels. Traveling was safer, but pirates remained a problem...
Even so, the keyholder who had traded the crown for the ships considered the deal extremely profitable. His enterprises had improved enormously thanks to the speed those nine vessels possessed.
With competent subordinates and captains, he could complete voyages in a single moon that had previously required three. This made his businesses far more profitable.
Not to mention the pirates. Although one of the ships had been lost over the years, all eight of the others always managed to escape pursuers with ease, even earning a reputation whenever people saw the sails of the merchant company commanded by the keyholder. After all, they were much faster than any other vessel on the sea.
That alone had already earned him profits many times greater than the value paid for the crown, even within just a few years.
In any case, while they were discussing all of this, the sound of someone knocking on the door echoed through the room. It seemed they were looking for the Sealord.
"Sealord! Sealord!"
"What is it now?" he growled. He disliked being interrupted, yet his butler quickly entered the chamber.
Unlike the man who had been shouting outside. Without saying a word, he handed a scroll to the Sealord.
He frowned and would certainly give that man a beating later for yelling his title through the hallways. But the moment his eyes fell upon the scroll, his expression changed immediately.
"Is there a problem?" asked the man with High Valyrian features in an arrogant tone.
"Well, it seems something has happened..." the Sealord muttered. Certainly, the Iron Bank would now be in an uproar.
He needed to be present to see what they would decide regarding that information, since the scroll stated that the Arcticans had been sighted once again. They were sailing down toward the Iron Islands with three hundred ships.
There were also reports that they had devastated thousands of Ironborn in the North. The Sealord merely closed his eyes before turning his attention back to his guest.
"My apologies, Lord Moredo, but I must go to the Iron Bank immediately. We will be holding an emergency meeting. This could even put all of Braavos in danger." He stood up.
The man and the courtesan looked at him in surprise.
"And what would that be?" she asked.
The Sealord sighed. That woman held great status within Braavos.
As was the case with all courtesans, many men would kill others simply for hearing someone say she was ugly, speak ill of her, or even claim that their wives were more beautiful.
"The Arcticans. They have returned." That was all he said.
"Wait... the same ones who built those ships?" Moredo murmured in surprise.
The Sealord nodded. In any case, he left without saying anything else. He instructed the butler to take care of the guests while he made his way to the Iron Bank.
At the Iron Bank, things were far from calm. All twelve keyholders were gathered at that moment. There was one empty chair. That chair was his.
The thirteenth chair of the keyholders had been removed. A situation they themselves had created due to Arctic's absence.
The kingdom had simply announced that it would wage a war in the North against monsters and, from one moment to the next, cut off all trade without any logical explanation. Naturally, Braavos had tried to contact Arctic immediately.
Over the course of that year, many decisions had been made based on the idea that, somehow, Arctic simply no longer existed. It was obvious that all the keyholders, and even the Sealord himself, saw an opportunity and an excuse to get their hands on all that gold...
Arctic had deposited more money than any other client of the Iron Bank. Nearly ten million gold coins.
An amount that no one in that room possessed individually. They were ambitious by nature and saw an opportunity.
Even without openly admitting it, they had gotten their hands on part of that fortune. They had become quite confident and, as no news arrived, they began acting as if Arctic had vanished.
First, they removed its chair, then they cut off all exclusive trade networks. After all, the Arcticans had exclusive ports because of the enormous quantity of goods they brought from Arctic. All of this had happened two years earlier, ever since the trade agreement had been signed and Arctic had placed its gold in the vault.
Not only that. They had gone so far as to finance Arctic's own enemies.
When Lord Stark died and the King of Arctic announced that he was the heir to the Iron Throne, the true King of Westeros, there had been no significant mobilization from the North.
That only reinforced the belief that Arctic was doomed. And a few moons ago, at that moment, they realized that the man they had bet on had simply disappeared.
The Iron Bank wanted answers.
Stannis Baratheon, after receiving their funding, had disappeared along with all his men. Thousands of them.
Reports of his death had arrived, but no one could explain exactly what had happened. The Night's Watch refused to speak. No one from the North could explain the events.
And that left the Iron Bank extremely displeased.
But now...
Well, many of them already suspected the real reason. After all, Arctic might never have left the North, but who was to say they would allow men to advance there?
It was obvious to some of them. The only problem was that no one in the Iron Bank, not even the Sealord, wanted to believe it.
Now, all the actions driven by greed were turning against them in the form of a new enemy. An enemy that now stood before them, capable of threatening their very gates.
The Iron Bank was not supposed to fear anyone. After all, they could always finance an enemy.
But who would they finance against Arctic? It was a desperate attempt to contain that kingdom.
Westeros? Well, Westeros was on the verge of being destroyed.
Three hundred ships could cause enormous devastation. They could finance other enemy armies afterward, but that was only the fleet that had appeared from the western side.
Which made no sense. Arctic was located on the eastern coast. That meant only one thing—they were building new cities beyond the Wall, along the western coast...
And those three hundred ships had been built over the last few years. In other words, there were still at least five hundred ships on the eastern side of the continent, where Arctic was located.
In any case, the Sealord entered the hall already hearing the discussions. He closed his eyes for a moment.
"They won't try anything against us right now. They're fighting Westeros and finally intend to conquer the Iron Throne. We can prepare for any intervention they may attempt," one of the keyholders began.
"Damn it. We should have recognized the signs. All those mercenary ships we saw sailing north simply vanished. We never heard from them again. The same thing happened to entire fleets funded by us and by the Magisters of the other Free Cities."
"And then there were the rumors. That dragon in the North... A giant dragon in Winterfell. That only further confirms Lord Stark's words."
"The Red Faith is practically on their side as well. The men from Volantis sent to rescue Lord Stark—they only did that for one reason..."
"And Stannis..." One of the keyholders closed his eyes. "We invested so many coins in him only for him to end up destroyed. Or worse, vanished."
"To this day, we still don't know if he's truly dead..."
"Hello, Sealord," one of the keyholders said as the man finally took his seat.
The Sealord sat down in silence. He was no more important than any of the keyholders present in that room. After all, those men financed the Iron Bank and were the wealthiest people in Essos.
His role as Sealord was to protect and govern Braavos, while the Iron Bank controlled much of the city's finances. Even so, in emergency situations like that one, he took part in the council meetings.
Just as he had participated years earlier, when Jon Arctican personally visited the Iron Bank.
"Perhaps we should send a diplomat. Tycho Nestoris would be willing to try to negotiate with them, to speak directly. In Westeros, they say the king himself is in the West. We can contact him."
"Ah, and what exactly are you going to tell him? That we removed his position, seized his money, and now it belongs to us? And then offer humble apologies and ask him to please leave Braavos alone?" One of the keyholders began to mock.
"We should have thought more carefully before we started acting the way we did a year ago. We saw the signs."
"Signs? Signs that everyone knows are nonsense. False rumors."
"Even when the entire world was shrouded in darkness, at the very moment they said they were going to fight the Great Night?"
"What are you talking about? You didn't care about that either when we decided to act the way we did!" another replied mockingly.
The keyholder merely shook his head. "Look, we've already done it. Now we have no choice but to deal with the consequences. And Arctic is probably not happy with us at all. But we're still the Iron Bank. We have a great deal of money. We can simply issue an order to every Mercenary Company in Essos. We can even hire the Dothraki."
"You know the Dothraki won't fight against him."
The hall fell silent for a moment...
"They still call him 'The One Who Rides the World.' And there are still rumors that he was seen on a beach with a giant winged creature almost two years ago... We thought they were just absurd Dothraki stories, claiming they found him on some shore riding what they described as a giant dragon..." The man sighed.
"They worship him. It would be easier for him to summon every Dothraki to attack Braavos than for us to convince a khalasar to fight him. They would gladly march here, even if they had to cross the salt water surrounding the city."
That was a cold splash of water for everyone present. Everyone knew of the admiration the Dothraki showed toward Jon. After what he had done in the Dothraki Sea, the rumors had only grown.
The stories of seeing him riding dragons had spread rapidly, making the Dothraki even more fanatical. But no one had believed them at the time.
If an Arctic banner were raised, they obviously would not try to attack it. Instead, they would turn their attention toward whoever was fighting the Arcticans and join them.
As strange as it seemed, the Dothraki viewed Jon as a great leader. Even when his ideas deeply contradicted their culture. Jon had been against rape, against slavery, and against many of the traditional practices of the khalasars.
Even so, they admired him. Mainly because he had made the conditions clear for anyone who wished to follow him to the North and become part of Arctic, and many had accepted his terms by sea...
"Then send ravens!" The voice echoed through the hall. "To all the Mercenary Companies!" The keyholder slammed his hand against the table.
"All of them." Another joined in. "Don't leave a single one out. We'll offer twice the gold." He clenched his teeth. "Even if we have to spend every one of the millions of coins Jon Arctic deposited in the Iron Bank."
Everyone nodded while one of the keyholders scratched his chin. "It would be better if we didn't mention the reason for this mass recruitment... Even if it seems suspicious."
He paused. "It will be a lot of gold, but they may refuse if we tell them they'll be fighting Arctic. Tell them it might be Stannis trying to attack Braavos to gain money and support in Westeros. That will be received much better."
"But they'll certainly hear about Arctic. Especially the companies near the coast. Our spies found out. Others will find out as well."
"All we can do is hope that as many as possible accept." Another keyholder nodded.
"I would agree to paying at least four times their usual rate. That would certainly encourage them."
"Besides, it's not as if they'll be fighting at sea, where they can launch those explosions and destroy entire ships."
"And what do you think will happen to Braavos if they start launching that wildfire against the city? We'll be screwed. Don't you think so, Sealord?"
One of the keyholders turned his attention to the man who had remained silent throughout the entire debate.
"We must explore every opportunity," the Sealord replied. "Hire every mercenary company you can find. We'll pay four times their normal rate." He looked at each of them.
"Make offers even to the Dothraki. I'm sure not all of them worship Jon Arctican as if he were a god made flesh. There must be plenty of resentment and envy among them. Find those men. Find the khalasars that are not favorable toward him. Make them offers."
The Sealord rested his fingers on the table. "And I don't think we should mention Stannis. Nor that he intends to attack Braavos. Simply offer four times the normal payment and let their imaginations do the rest."
"They'll find out what's happening anyway. And there's one more thing. I will personally go to the House of Black and White to see what we can do."
The meeting continued for some time. The discussions shifted toward the defenses of Braavos.
The city did not even possess eight thousand soldiers. Normally, that was more than enough for a city like this. Braavos was heavily protected by its geography, its canals, and its fleet.
Three thousand men would already be enough to defend most strategic points. However, because of the Iron Bank, an additional five thousand soldiers were always welcome.
Especially because of the enormous number of people who visited the city every day. Furthermore, they could still gather another seven thousand men in an emergency.
Even so, that would total only around fifteen thousand fighters.
A small army.
If they managed to hire every possible mercenary company, they could easily surpass one hundred thousand men. That would strengthen Braavos considerably.
After the meeting, the Sealord made his way to the House of Black and White.
He was received by a man who was undoubtedly one of the order's assassins. His face remained calm as he observed the ruler of the city.
The Sealord got straight to the point.
"Jon Arctican."
The man stared at him for a moment.
Then he replied... "Twenty million gold coins."
The words struck like lightning, and the Sealord's eyes widened immediately.
"Twenty million? What?" the Sealord asked, unable to believe it.
"Every man has his price. Twenty million gold coins to set the entire House of Black and White upon a single man. No one has ever been worth so much in the eyes of the Many-Faced God," the assassin replied.
The Sealord remained silent for a few moments. Then he turned his back and returned to his guards without saying another word.
"Let's go."
He spoke to the guards and left the place, while the great doors of the House of Black and White closed behind him.
And so the weeks passed.
Braavos quickly began searching for forces throughout Essos, while at the same time dealing with the absurd proposal from the House of Black and White.
Then, on a certain day, the Sealord was interrupted. Suddenly, all the bells of the city began to ring.
The sound sent an immediate chill down his spine. No one yet knew exactly what was happening outside the city.
The Sealord's mansion was located somewhat away from the main observation points. But a man from one of the highest towers came running down and rushed through the corridors.
"Hundreds of ships are approaching the city, my lord!" The man was nearly out of breath after running all the way there.
"I believe there are around five hundred ships, and they're flying those banners—Arctic's banners. They are heading toward Braavos at this very moment!"
The Sealord turned pale.
This... was far too early, much too early.
They had not expected Arctic to simply appear before Braavos while still conducting its campaign against Westeros.
Raccoon Here:
Well, Braavos expected to have time to deal with Arctic, but Jon had already anticipated that. But this won't end anytime soon—I want to bring down that Titan. And Jon has to give the order.
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🦝 Raccoon here: 🦝
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