Year 110 A.C.
POV: Denovan
Two days later...
The hours passed quickly. Aemma and Viserys's newborn son, Baelon, were perfectly fine. The child showed no sign of weakness or illness, defying my darkest predictions.
Since he was healthy, I decided not to carve any runes into his tiny body. Furthermore, even while remaining silent and resting, Aemma showed great discomfort and strong disapproval of my magical markings on her skin, so I thought it best not to push the matter with the child.
Today was my last day in King's Landing. I had already collected my rewards from the tournaments and resolved everything I wished to do here. Well... with the exception of my current meeting with the king.
"So you are telling me that the pirates of the Triarchy are dozens of times more numerous?" Viserys asked, his face lined with tension in the small study.
"I don't even have six hundred men in total, Viserys, and those I do have are not yet the best at naval warfare," I replied frankly. "I can gather information quickly and in real-time for you almost anywhere... but I cannot spread my troops thin enough to control the sea."
"I appreciate the immense help you have been giving me with the Starks and with the food distribution... but alone, I cannot stop the hundreds of ships that now infest the Narrow Sea. In the end, Corlys was right, I have too few men."
"And what do you propose?"
"Summon Corlys Velaryon and your brother, Daemon," I suggested, leaning slightly over the table. "Have Daemon burn the enemy fleets with Caraxes, help them fight and finance this war. Use me to get precise intelligence on the pirates. We can learn their plans, locations, secret bases, and supply routes. We only need raw military brute force, and that is exactly what you have in abundance."
Viserys sighed, thinking out loud:
"Corlys with the ships, Daemon with the dragon. And there is Laenor, who will probably help his father... that makes two adult dragons in battle. And we would have your information..."
"Exactly. When those bastards retreat to the stone islands and retreat into the caves, rest assured that my men and I will go down there to finish them off on foot, just as we did with various pirates and cannibals in the Stepstones and on the frozen coasts of the North. What do you think?"
Viserys kept his eyes fixed on me, his political mind working fast.
"And what does the Iron Throne gain directly from this?"
"Merchants will be able to come and go without being robbed and killed. House Targaryen will gain a fundamental strategic foothold to pressure Dorne, should you wish to at some point. Outposts and trade ports can be built in the Stepstones. Merchant ships can have one last safe stop, with high tariffs, before their final destination. Think of the flood of gold coins pouring into the treasury; the entire cost of this war will pay for itself over time. Corlys Velaryon will become much less annoying with his demands for attention, and the Triarchy will be permanently weakened."
"Nothing but advantages," I concluded.
Viserys remained in a contemplative silence, his hands repeatedly stroking his mustache.
"Well... you don't need to give me a definitive answer right now," I said. "Just let it be clear that, on my own, any offensive effort I make on the seas at this moment is impossible. I do not have enough manpower for this scale."
I rose from the chair, preparing to leave.
"Huginn will stay here, in King's Landing. From time to time, he will appear at your window. If you have made a decision or have something to say to me, just tell him, and I will know instantly."
Viserys's gaze shifted, gaining a spark of sudden determination.
"How long do you think a war there would last?"
I thought a bit about the naval logistics, the dragons' firepower, and the time the war took to end in the books before answering.
"If we start two months from now, at most, and with full force... I believe that, should things get ugly and drag on, two years. At most, for us to consolidate the major territories and defeat the largest enemy fleets, and at least a well-fought year will resolve it."
Viserys then shattered my expectations entirely and blurted out:
"I am without a Master of Whisperers... What do you think of formally taking the position?"
My eyebrows arched in sheer surprise.
"That is one of the only things I never imagined hearing as a response."
"The Southern nobility will not like it one bit to have a 'savage' taking a seat at court," I warned.
"The truth is, they already whisper and know a great deal about the presence of a Northern sorcerer lurking around the castle. Gossip spreads very fast anyway," Viserys said, shrugging his shoulders.
I thought about the offer for a moment. Being on the Small Council would bring me many connections; many lords would want to be on my good side, which meant commercial and political agreements, and various opportunities to gain influence in Westeros to help Norway grow.
"Do not expect my polite behavior to change much just because I begin participating in court. And I will need about a month to sort out administrative matters in Norway."
"I grant you that preparation time," Viserys said with a smile, waving his hand dismissively.
"I will have a Small Council meeting tomorrow to officially decide on the war. Until then, I will send someone to take your measurements and make decent clothes for you. At least be well-dressed for the announcement."
A wry smile appeared on my face.
"I will be present at the meeting. And I am not poorly dressed."
"You are only slightly worse off than a commoner who just came out of a war," the king retorted humorously.
"Yes, yes. Send your royal tailors, then. You have no idea how hard it is to find clothes my size. Even with gold, tailors demand an astonishing amount of time to deliver something wearable."
"They will go to your chambers later," the king said, amused.
"Thank you," I nodded.
"Anything else, Lord Master of Whisperers?"
"Nothing. I'll be going, then. If you need anything, call for me, Your Grace."
I gave a slight bow, still with an amused smile on my face, and left the room.
I walked through the sunlit corridors of the fortress. I needed to find my men in the lower city to let them know we would have to stay anchored for one more day. I was almost reaching the gardens when...
"Sir... You were the Winter Knight in the jousts, weren't you?" a female voice sounded right behind me.
Turning around, I came face-to-face with two beautiful young ladies of the court.
"Princess Rhaenyra..." I greeted, my eyes sliding quickly to the brown-haired girl beside her. "Lady Alicent."
The two gave me a slight affirmative nod. Seeing them from so close, one could notice how they were already growing into ladies of dazzling beauty in the court.
"Winter Knight, huh?" I replied with an ironic smile. "Never heard of him."
I spoke almost laughing. It was obvious even to a newborn baby that I was lying on purpose, given that no other man for miles had my height and physical build.
Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed sharply.
"I feel you are lying, Ser."
I let out a soft laugh and confessed.
"Yes, yes, Princess. I was the knight."
"I knew it! Alicent doubted me," she said victoriously, taking a step forward. "Now tell me, Ser: where is that direwolf of yours or that huge talking eagle?"
Rhaenyra's voice overflowed with curiosity and a genuine fascination for my animals.
"Well, Princess, you don't need to call me Ser. I am not a knight anointed in the light of the Seven; I follow only the Old Gods of the North. As for the animals... my wolf is in the North, fulfilling an important mission for me. As for the talking eagle, I have a few of them here in King's Landing, but that huge black one you met years ago is named Heimdall, and he is flying freely above us."
The princess's eyes shone with the information.
"Would you be able to make my Syrax talk if you used your magic?"
"No, Princess, I could not. My birds do not speak purely because of magic itself, but because of the physical compatibility that birds, in general, possess in their vocal cords to mimic that type of sound. Any ordinary maester's raven can repeat isolated sounds and words. My eagles and falcons have merely enhanced that same natural biology. Dragons, on the other hand, have anatomy built for fire and roaring, not for human words."
The young heiress's excited expression wilted a little in disappointment.
I turned my eyes to Alicent Hightower, who remained at a distance, wringing her hands in a clear sign of nervousness.
"I see you do not care for magic, or these matters in general," I commented directly to her.
A startled and wordless expression washed over Alicent's face. Since I did not like the way her eyes seemed to silently scream the word 'heretic', I continued speaking in a calm yet incisiva manner:
"Humans feel a terrible fear of everything they do not know. But magic is not so different from learning to forge iron or knowing how to read a book, Lady Hightower."
"It is not the same thing. Religion forbids dark magic, but reading and forging is something the gods allow to men," she finally whispered defensively.
I ignored her and continued my train of thought:
"Not everyone outside these walls knows how to read or write. But imagine... a peasant who cannot read and has no inkling of how writing works sees a maester pick up a sheet of parchment full of black marks, and suddenly, the old man begins to speak out loud about ancient legends and distant places he has never seen. To the peasant's ignorant eyes, this looks like a miracle of sorcery."
Without giving room for interruption, I added:
"Do you know how a common man makes fire in the wild? There are primitive ways. You take a straight piece of wood and spin it rapidly against a dry board. As it spins, friction heats the wood, generates smoke, and then the flame miraculously appears. Does that not seem like profane magic to someone who has never seen the laws of heat at work? What is the fundamental difference between so-called magic and that? There is no difference. They are merely laws of nature that you have not yet been taught to comprehend."
I looked deeply into the eyes of both girls.
"Do not be so afraid of the unknown, my ladies. And do not blindly accept everything the old men in gray tunics and white robes claim to be the sole truth. Draw conclusions with your own eyes. Powerful men prefer the people under their command to be foolish, fearful, and ignorant. Only then are the masses easy to dominate and control."
A strange, tense, and deep look crossed both women's faces, as if a new world were knocking at the door.
A smile spread across my face. I ran a hand over the back of my neck, aware of the heavy silence that had formed in the courtyard.
"I think I've spoken too much for today... My princesses, if you need me in the future, your father will know exactly where to find me."
I finished speaking, gave a respectful bow of my head, and went on my way, leaving both women behind, immersed in a contemplative silence.
One of them, fascinated and drawn to magic, dragons, and these mysterious magical creatures; the other, clinging to the faith of her southern gods and inwardly loathing everything her church dictated to be wrong. One cannot innocently believe everything shown to them in the world, but neither should one doubt everything with closed eyes. There is a fine, very dangerous line between believing and doubting.
Lost in political thoughts, I walked quickly through the streets that smelled of sewage until I reached the docks. In moments, I was back on board the wooden comfort of our Northern galleon, ready to deliver the news that our stay had been extended for one more day.