Pre-Chapter A/N:Another chapter on time? Guess my lock-in is going pretty well. If you haven't already, I recommend turning on notifications for my stuff so you can see when new stuff drops right as it drops. More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio.
I did not believe that the approach from Rickard Redwyne was genuine. There was a real chance that it had just been an attempt to gather information on the state of the Velaryon fleet. It wasn't like he couldn't have foreseen that I'd just have said no to any chance to purchase ships for us. Even when Corlys had been alive, we had a policy of not selling. Of course, that was partly because in the beginning, our ships were basically the same as everyone else's, so there was no need for anyone to try buying from us. By the time my improvements were good enough to make a difference between our ships and those of everyone else, we were far behind in terms of the size of our fleet and were too busy making ships for the war to consider selling to anyone else.
Now, we could spare the capacity, especially since the shipyard in Bloodstone was coming along so well. But I just didn't want to. I didn't want my new and improved ships being given to the Royal Family when there was every chance we would one day be going to war against them. I did not think it likely, but there was one thing I knew for certain: the only way anyone would be taking the Stepstones from me would be with blood, sweat, and tears.
That is the price I had paid for it, after all. Why should anyone else who wanted it not have to pay the same? And then again with interest. Igneel grunted beneath me to draw my attention, and I looked towards the town we were about to land in. Both Vhagar and Meleys trailed our approach. The Red Queen was still faster than the Bronze Bitch, but it turned out that Igneel had now grown enough to outstrip both of them. At least for the few hours that separated Driftmark and King's Landing. It gave me the chance to think uninterrupted, and that was a good thing because there was one topic that had been on my mind but never fully answered.
Driftmark. The Seat of House Velaryon, Father's Pride and Joy. The home to House Velaryon for generations. Where I had been born—the same was true for Laena, and Corlys, and generations of Velaryons. What would happen to it when things eventually came to a head? And even if it never did, what was the role that Driftmark would play in the future of House Velaryon? The Stepstones would be the center of industry as well as the seat of political power. When I eventually made the necessary improvements to Bloodstone Castle, it would be our home for generations. So what would Driftmark become? Something like the Water Gardens or Summerhall? A place that produced nothing and was supported by incomes from the main seat?
It could be a pleasure castle for House Velaryon. High Tide was already built more like a palace than a military seat if we were being frank, and the island could be beautiful with the right sort of care put into it. It would actually be a good idea—or at least not a bad one—but for one key problem. The people. The people of Driftmark had lived there for generations. How many of them would be willing to uproot their lives and move to the Stepstones to start something new there?
Something told me I already had that answer. Even before we had tried recruiting citizens from King's Landing, we had approached Driftmark. I'd made what I felt was a generous offer, a full land grant to hold in my name in perpetuity and an exemption from taxes for five years. I'd even placed a cap on the number of people that could make the trip, thinking that I would get too many for the islands to support as things stood. That had turned out to be far from the case.
The people on Driftmark enjoyed good lives already, living in some of the wealthiest towns in all of Westeros—Hull and Spicetown both—and it seemed they were in the majority unwilling to risk the lives they had for what they could enjoy in the future. Part of me said they would give up on Driftmark when they realised it was on the decline in favour of the Stepstones, and they would make the transition. But then there would be a lot of suffering in the meantime. Too much for me to stomach, and I already knew Mother would not permit it.
She entertained my ideas for the Stepstones because they kept me occupied and out of trouble—for the most part. But I doubted she would be as understanding when I eventually told her I would be moving the seat of House Velaryon to Bloodstone Castle.
I looked down over the island now that I was within its airspace. Driftmark was a beautiful island to be sure. Fertile as the Reach itself and teeming with life. I could see Spicetown out of the corner of my eyes, but that was not where we would be landing. First, Mother wanted me to see my people. And while Spicetown was the larger town of the two, it was also the one with the larger foreign population. Hull was made up of people whose grandparents had served my grandparents, and further back. There was also the fact that I would be expected to spend the night at High Tide, so going to Spicetown only after Hull made sense.
We flew around the city three times before landing at the outskirts. We landed first and noted what a mistake that was when Vhagar landed next to us. The ground shook and I felt Igneel be startled as his footing was disturbed. He growled to himself as I held him back from his urge to lash out before Meleys landed much more softly. I turned to find Mother smirking at me.
"You learn to expect it!" she shouted across. I nodded. That wouldn't be a mistake I made twice.
I unsaddled just after Laena did so, and we waited for Mother together. An escort had already been prepared. Velaryon men-at-arms waited for us with horses and banners. I looked over at them. I could see four knights in their number, and the rest must just have been regular levies. Still, the armour they wore was impressive. I looked over at Mother.
"Your father had been talking about using some of the gold to make sure the men were better armed and armored. When I could not think of anything to do with what he left me, I decided to implement it and a few other things," she said. I nodded. I had wondered what she would end up doing with the gold left to her, though. My cousins and uncles were probably likely to have spent theirs on manses or ships—if they had spent it, that was. I knew for sure Vaemond hadn't touched his. He was in the Stepstones even more than I was. He hadn't left for any reason since we took it over, working to implement my will.
Sure, he was a greedy little fucker that had tried to snatch the regency for himself, but beyond that, he was dedicated to making the House greater and carrying out the orders as given. I'd never liked him, but I probably had to reward him for the dedication sooner or later. As a leader, I had to reward dedication and loyalty, or else people would be much less likely to be dedicated and loyal moving forwards. I accepted the reins of the horse that was handed to me.
Nike—I had finally gotten around to giving my sandsteed hybrid a name—was going to be directly shipped back to the Stepstones, and I could already feel myself missing him as this one shied away from me. It could probably sense the bit of Igneel that was in me. Still, hesitant or not, there was little the horse could do to resist me mounting him. As they had both been dressed for dragon riding, both Mother and Laena had no trouble mounting their own horses. It was probably improper for them to do it the way they did, but this was our town. If anyone had a problem, they could take it up with Vhagar or Meleys.
Surrounded by our men-at-arms, we began to ride into the town. The people had already assembled outside their homes, and a few of them were tossing roses down onto the paved street before we passed. They cheered our arrival as we rode past them. Mother and Laena lapped it up while I watched with an assessing eye. I was far more interested in the town itself than the people.
Hull used to be the only town in all of Driftmark, supported by villages and hamlets of various sizes. So it had a bit of everything. It had a port that was respectable. One of the largest in Westeros for sure, and would have been something to behold if Spicetown didn't have a bigger port, capable of holding more ships, sporting a larger pier, and then supported by a larger town besides. Besides the port, there were other things to note.
Hull had houses made of wood that looked respectable, if worn. There were thatched roofs that would keep out all but the most determined storms. Then there was the market. At the market, we were offered tastes of the produce being sold. Driftmark was food self-sufficient for the most part. Things like exotic and fresh fruit had to come in from the Reach, of course, but those were not essential food items so we could live without them if the need arose. I watched Laena accept a taste of some bread as the baker smiled widely.
She told him how she enjoyed it, and the man smiled from ear to ear, and then was coming out with multiple loaves to gift my sister. I politely but firmly refused every offer. Because while there was little reason to be suspicious in terms of danger of being poisoned, I had learned my lesson already. Once bitten, twice shy was how it was best put. Besides, I had no need for these people to love me any more than they already did.
Someone had already announced my victory at the joust, and it seemed all any of the smallfolk could talk about. I watched the man's eyes as he approached with a sword held in both hands. This had to have been authorized earlier, I figured. Because if my guards would just let an armed man walk past them and straight at me, then what was the point of even having them in the first place?
"My Lord, I am Darrow Steelhand," he said. I nodded and looked pointedly at both his hands, which were very much flesh. His hands were rough and calloused, showing that he was no stranger to working with them. He was a wide man—not quite as wide as Borros, but also not too far off. It was impressive that smallfolk had been able to afford enough food to grow a child to this level. I took it as another sign of Driftmark's popularity. He shared the standard Hull look that many did. Silver hair matched with far more ordinary blue eyes to show that while he had Valyrian blood, it had been diluted over the years. At least that was what I took it to mean.
The rest of his features were not all that Valyrian. He had a square jaw matched with eyes that seemed just too wide apart and a pug nose.
"A nickname for my ability to work the steel, my Lord," he explained when I did not speak immediately.
"I see. That must be some ability you have then," I said.
"On hearing of your deeds in the Tournament, I was moved to make a fitting gift for you, my Lord. A blade to hold by your side in all that is to come," he said, and then he took the blade he was holding and held it out for me. I noticed a bit of leather around the handle, so I removed that first to look at the hilt. Against all my mental preparation and training, I gasped when I looked at it for the first time. It was beautiful. Not the kind of thing I would have expected a blacksmith to make. It ought to have been the work of a jeweler.
The cross guard caught my attention first. Shaped as two curling dragons facing outwards with open jaws and fangs that glinted with gold. Their eyes were tiny emeralds that must have taken an eternity to chip into such small pieces, and then right at the middle, in raised relief, was a single Velaryon Seahorse in pale white enamel and silver filigree. The cross guard led to the grip, wrapped in a gleaming white leather and cross-laced with braided silver. Inset on the grip were three thin rings of mother-of-pearl, evenly spaced.
The pommel was a single silver sphere at the end of the blade. I gripped the sword and then I drew it from its handle. The blade itself was a longsword—about 40-42 inches from what I could see. The steel was well-worked. It glimmered in the light and was clearly well-weighted. I tested it slightly, finding that the balance was perfect.
"It is beautiful," I said.
"Thank you, my Lord."
"Of course, there's no way you made this after the tournament," I said. Maybe he could make a regular sword that quickly, but not something like this. This was the work of weeks, if not months of focus.
"I misspoke, my Lord. I had been intending to make a blade for your Lord Father before he passed. When he did, I left the sword half-finished. On hearing about your victory, of course, I was moved to complete the work and dedicate it to you, my Lord," he said. I nodded, even as I filled in the words he did not say. He had been making something for my father in the hopes of payment, but he'd abandoned it once the man had died. But now that I was here, he saw an opportunity to recoup his investment and then some.
"'Tis excellent work," I said.
"You honour me, my Lord."
"You will receive a King's Ransom for her. What is her name?" I asked next.
"It is to you to name her, my Lord."
"Good. She shall be called Riptide," I said.
— — —
We continued the tour of the town and made sure to stop in each of the districts. The other blacksmiths welcomed us with the sound of hammer on steel and then with the best of the best of what they offered. I noted that Steelhand had made a short journey from his workshop to present the sword to me while I was at the baker's section of the town. It had seemed an odd choice, but as I received sword after sword, it became clear that it was his attempt to stand out from the others.
Chances were that he had made some arrangement with my own guards to see it happen. Had he paid them in gold, steel, or just the promise to split whatever reward I inevitably handed out? Whatever it was he had given to be able to do that was well worth it most likely. Sure, his sword had been the most beautiful of the lot, but even a gem like that could have fallen through the cracks considering just how many swords were being tossed my way.
It wasn't like I could reject what were ostensibly gifts, and I also could not accept them without giving something in return. There were Lords that would do so, but I would never be one of them. Service to me would be rewarded, no matter how useless the service ended up being. Just because a dozen of them had decided to make me swords didn't mean that each man hadn't still invested a significant amount of man-hours and resources in what they made. Was it their fault that everyone else had happened to have the same idea? Probably. Okay, there was a good chance that this whole thing was organised.
Still, without proof, I hesitated to spurn the gifts. Not in front of so large a crowd. And so each man received a hundred gold dragons for his service. Some ways away from the King's Ransom I had given Steelhand, but still more than they would hope to make in multiple years of work. At least, the one silver lining was that I wasn't dipping into the House's coffers for this largesse. The victory at the tourney and the ransoms I'd received from the knights I had beaten were coming in handy right now. Of course, that meant my own personal coffers were bleeding, but that was an acceptable loss.
So I smiled, spoke some words of greeting and introduction with each man that came forward, and then accepted the sword they held in their hand. I unsheathed it, gave it a practice swing or two, declared it a master's work, and then rewarded them with a hundred dragons for the gift. Some paid more lip service to the idea of their gifts being gifts than others, at least attempting to reject the gold at first, but they all accepted in three tries or less. From the blacksmiths, we continued on to the Merchant's corner, the center of the marketplace that called Hull home, and then I was subjected to the sight of Laena being the one ambushed now. Dresses, jewelry, shoes, everything a lady could desire were tossed at her as gifts for her incredible beauty.
And to everyone who gifted her, I gave something in return. I could not quite bury the feeling that I'd been robbed as we rode out of the city, several pounds of gold lighter—metaphorically, of course. I couldn't have carried that much gold on me, so I'd given pledges written in my own hand and sealed with my seal that would be redeemed at the castle later on.
"And to think that was just Hull. Expect even more in Spicetown," Mother said at my side, seeming to have read my mind.
"Ughhh," I moaned.
"Cheer up. Those sums were nothing to you, and with them, you have ensured that these people will love you for a generation more."
"Paying them to love me doesn't feel all that good."
"Every Lord pays his smallfolk if he is to have their love. Such is their nature. Smallfolk do not have the privilege of greater concerns like we do. Their next meal, the roof above their heads, the clothes on their bodies, those are the only things they can worry about. Give them all, and they will love you like they love the gods," she said.
A/N: And so the chapter comes to an end. Next five chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga) (same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.