79 AC. Volantis
POV: Corlys Velaryon
I was sleeping in my chambers after an exhausting trek through the shores of the fallen empire when I felt someone breach the wards I had layered around the room. Opening my eyes and channeling magic through my body, I sensed a foreign presence by the window.
"How much longer do you intend to stand there?" I asked the uninvited guest.
The stranger faltered for a second in surprise, then lunged toward me. He never reached his target. Blasting him with a spell, I first stunned him and then bound him securely to a chair.
"And who might you be?" I asked the incapacitated assassin. "Slipping through my window with intent to kill... quite the bold move," I continued the interrogation.
The man remained silent, staring intently into my eyes.
"Not in a talkative mood? Fine. I don't need your cooperation to get the information I want," I replied with a smirk. It had been a long time since I'd done this; a wave of nostalgia washed over me at the memory.
"Shall we begin? Legilimens!" I incanted, tearing into his memories.
What I saw interested me greatly. It turned out our guest was a Faceless Man, sent for my head according to a contract.
"So, a Faceless Man," I said, watching for his first reaction. His eyes widened, though he quickly regained control of his emotions. "What am I to do with you now, Simon? Don't look so surprised; I've learned quite a lot about you. Should I simply kill you and be done with it? No... I have a better idea. You are going to serve me."
"I serve only the Many-Faced God," he replied, speaking for the first time since my monologue began.
"You will serve me regardless of whether you wish to or not," I countered. "If I were you, I'd brace myself. The pain will be hellish."
Erecting a soundproof barrier around the room, I plunged into Simon's consciousness. He screamed—loudly. Had it not been for the barrier, he would have woken half of Volantis. Ignoring his cries, I began to reshape his mind and perception. This process required the utmost mastery of the Mind Arts; otherwise, the patient risked becoming a vegetable. After an hour of delicate work on my part—though excruciatingly painful for Simon—it was finished.
I unbound his hands and released him.
"Master," he murmured, dropping to one knee.
The form of address made me flinch slightly; an image of a certain snake-faced individual I'd once sent to the afterlife flashed through my mind. Well, at least he wasn't kissing the hem of my robes.
"From this day forward, you shall be known as Aguilar. To the other Faceless Men, you are dead," I said in a commanding voice.
"As you command, Master," was his fanatical response. "But the Faceless Men will send others after my failure," he warned.
"I will handle them myself. For now, go and find a criminal whose face you will take," I ordered.
"It shall be done, Master," he replied before leaping out of the window.
I was already planning to establish an order of assassins to serve me and my family. Aguilar could be used to train recruits in the tricks of the Faceless Men. Assassins with such training would be peerless. But I was more interested in something else: who had ordered the hit? What fool considered themselves immortal? I understood that I had stepped on many toes by expanding my trade, but paying the Faceless Men for my elimination? No matter. It's all solvable. If a wizarding war couldn't kill me, the Faceless Men wouldn't either.
Everything was settled a week later when I paid a visit to the House of Black and White. We reached an agreement: if a client agreed to pay the price for me or my family, I would pay them double the price for the name of the contractor. It turned out a Magister from Tyrosh, from whom I had seized a significant market share, had paid for my head. I suppose I needn't mention that this Magister soon suffered a fatal heart attack.
79 AC. Driftmark
The entire family was waiting for me at the Spicetown docks. Mother nearly squeezed the breath out of me when she hugged me. My brothers and grandfather were more restrained. Grandfather Daemon had no patience for frivolous sentimentality, and my brothers often emulated his stoicism in public.
"How was your first voyage, Corlys?" Mother asked, her eyes full of worry.
"It went better than anyone could have expected, Mother," I replied with a mischievous glint.
"Good. Alyce, don't pester the boy with questions just yet. We will discuss everything in detail in my study," Grandfather intervened.
Three hours later, after a bath and a family dinner, Mother, Grandfather, and I sat in his elegantly furnished study.
"Now, tell me in detail: how were the negotiations in Volantis, why were you delayed so long, and please... do not tell me that tall tale the crew is whispering about," Grandfather said sternly.
"What tall tale?" Mother chimed in.
I swallowed nervously, debating whether to tell the truth or stick to the "tall tale" until the end. Grandfather, realizing the spot I was in, smirked as if watching a play rather than his grandson's predicament.
"I'll start by saying the Volantenes agreed to our terms. In exchange for increasing our exports, they are ready to halve the customs duties," I told Grandfather.
"Given that we already intended to expand our exports, this plays perfectly into our hands," Daemon said, satisfied.
"Yes, it does," I forced out, knowing what was coming next.
"But you haven't answered my previous question. Where were you for so long?" Grandfather reminded me.
"In Valyria," I stated, bracing for the explosion that followed immediately.
"I'm sorry, what?" Mother shrieked. Seeing that I was perfectly serious, she continued, "Have you lost your mind? How could you venture there? Did you not think of me or your brothers at all?" She was on the verge of tears.
"It wasn't that dangerous," I began to defend myself. Seeing their skeptical looks, I added, "For me."
"What do you mean by that, Corlys?" Grandfather finally spoke up.
"Any other man would die there within the hour, but for an experienced mage, it is no obstacle," I replied.
"So you visited Valyria and returned alive," he said, following my logic. "And? Did you find anything of interest?"
"You know, not everything there was destroyed," I told them with a smile. "And one could say that House Velaryon is now the wealthiest house in both Westeros and Essos. It's just that the rest of the world doesn't know it yet."
Seeing the shock in their eyes, I began to recount my adventure.
"Are you saying that our house, among other riches, now holds the secret to forging Valyrian steel?" Mother asked in disbelief.
"And not just that."
"What else?" Grandfather asked, sensing I had saved the grandest revelation for last.
"Let's just say that the Targaryens will no longer be the only family to possess dragons," I replied with a manic glint in my eyes that even Bellatrix Lestrange would have envied.
"You mean..." Daemon couldn't finish his sentence.
"We have fifty-two dragon eggs, which I intend to bind exclusively to our bloodline," I answered.
"If the royal family finds out..." Mother began anxiously.
"They will be able to do nothing!" I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous tone. "And if they attempt to harm us, I will do to the Targaryens what even Maegor failed to accomplish."
No one needed an explanation of what I meant.
"Now that we have the capital, we must invest it," I said, changing the subject, much to their relief.
"Do you have any ideas?" Grandfather asked.
"I suggest expanding our merchant and naval fleets and increasing the production of our spirits and other goods. This will help us dominate trade across both continents. We should also invest heavily in expanding the castle and improving the town." In my mind, I envisioned Spicetown as something between Florence and Venice during the Renaissance. "I also propose we enter another market."
"And which one is that?" Mother asked.
"Currently, only Myr is capable of producing glass. They hold a monopoly on this rare and expensive product," I explained. "And frankly, their quality is total sh…"
"Ahem!" Mother interrupted. Ah, I forgot—she can't stand it when her sons use foul language.
"I meant to say their product is... how shall I put it... of very poor quality," I corrected my slip. "I know how to produce glass of much higher quality, and we can use that to lure away their clients and eventually seize the entire market."
"That is a great opportunity. I agree with you," Grandfather replied.
They also discussed the possibility of founding a university to educate a young and promising generation. Corlys never liked the Citadel's monopoly on knowledge. They were stuck in their dogmas, hindering the progress of Westeros. The continent lacked an educated population that could be trusted with managing enterprises and businesses. Corlys intended to fix this by creating an educational institution to train and upskill people. To do this, he would invite various guilds from Essos and Westeros and enlist the support of their own maester, whom he knew he could trust.
We discussed many more projects and stayed up late, but the main goal was achieved. We came to an agreement and set the course for our future development.
By the time I returned to my room, it was past midnight. I decided to get some sleep and continue studying the books found in Valyria the next day.
"Gods, I'm exhausted," I managed to mutter before sinking into the realm of Morpheus.
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A/N
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