Chapter 18: Over the Sea and Far Away pt. 1

Ser Davos brought much news. The movement of pirates in the Stepstones. Shifts in prices of goods and political changes in the Free Cities. What certain large and dangerously competent mercenary companies were up to.

And then he had to move the news onto Daenerys Targaryen. She had married Khal Drogo, or was about to last we heard. Robert might have sent assassins after her then, but the mess with Cersei’s infidelity and Varys’ treason distracted him and he allowed Ned to wait and see whether she would survive among the horse-lords, or even be capable of getting with child.

Now word had trickled in from Ser Jorah Mormont, a former slaver and exile who was trying to spy his way to a pardon, that Daenerys was likely with child. And Robert, still full of hatred for the Targaryens wanted her dead. He didn’t care that she was still truly a child, being about to turn sixteen. That she might die in childbirth. That the odds of the child surviving to adulthood were so low. That the Dothraki, for all that they were excellent cavalry, would never come across the sea.

No, Robert wanted Daenerys dead along with her brother. And to be fair, I could understand where he was coming from. On a national politics level, both Viserys and she and any of her future blood were a risk. Whether a rallying point for a civil war that could kill tens of thousands, or a foreign invader with a nice justification, she was just too potent a symbol and too great a risk.

On the other hand, Ned fucking hated the idea. He fought the Targaryens to restore justice and honor to the realm, not to send poisoners after girls and unborn babes. At least Viserys, an adult and known anti-Baratheon agitator, was seen as acceptable target (even if Ned generally disliked assassins). But with Daenerys it was the exact same argument from sixteen years ago, when Robert refused to condemn the men responsible for killing the Targaryen children during the sack of King’s Landing. And much like that argument, both sides were sticking to their guns, getting louder and louder as they shouted at each other.

“I’ll handle it,” I volunteered before they could say anything unforgivable. Plus, maybe one of the Targaryens had that whole fireproof Valerian thing going on. Either way, I’d get to see a whole new continent and avoid any real work for a couple months. Visit exciting places, kill the people trying to kill you, get some mana, what’s not to love?

Ned was looking at me suspiciously while Robert was happily assuming I was agreeing with him.

“See, Ned, Odysseus gets it!” he boomed.

“What exactly do you mean by “handle it,” Odysseus?” Ned asked, a deep tone of warning in his voice. For all I had done for him and his family, he would never truly forgive me if I were to go out intending to murder this troublesome girl. That sort of honor was all too rare, sadly.

“You’re both working under an incorrect assumption,” I stated, confusing both of them. “It’s not Daenerys we need to worry about, it’s Drogo. Correct me if I’m wrong, but when a Dothraki Khal dies doesn’t his wife get sent to join the, what were they called? The Dothraki crones who live in Vaes Dothrak?” I asked.

“The dosh khaleen, I believe,” answered Ser Davos.

“That’s right. The dosh khaleen. I’ll give Daenerys and any child she has, born or not, the same treatment I gave Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, and see to it they aren’t in a position to cause any trouble. And I’ll either treat with Drogo, get him to give up Daenerys and bring her back here as a prisoner for Your Grace’s disposition, or I’ll kill him. The Dothraki may fancy themselves horse-lords, but I bet any sum of money you care to name that Aethon can outrun the lot the them.”

I looked at Ned and continued. “I believe my lord Stark that that satisfies honor. Viserys is a man grown and outspoken about his desire to seize the throne, and deserves no special protections. Drogo, a man that leads a slaving warband forty thousand strong, is hardly an innocent, nor an illegitimate target. And Your Grace will be able to rest easy that there won’t be any white-haired claimants to the throne coming from those quarters.”

Robert pursed his lips then nodded slowly. “That works for me. Ned?”

“Sir Odysseus’ suggestion is honorable. You’re sure you can do it, and get away safely?” he asked, worried for my safety.

“I can and will,” I answered with a grin.

Robert drew himself up. “Very well then. Ser Odysseus, I charge you to go forth and end the threat of Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen. Do you accept?”

“I do, Your Grace.”

He smiled at me. “Good man. Do you need any money, supplies or assistance?”

I thought about it for a minute. “I’ll use my own money, and provide an accounting afterwards. I do need about five days to prepare,” I stated. “Other than that, if Ser Davos could find me a good ship headed to Pentos, that would be grand.”

“It may be faster to sail all the way to Volantis, or Meereen,” Davos suggested.

I shook my head. “We’ll make better time overland.”

He raised his eyebrows at that but didn’t say anything. Ships could make a hundred miles a day; it was crazy to think of a horse making more than that, let alone the three or four hundred that Aethon could achieve fairly comfortably. Plus I wanted to visit a number of the so called “Free” Cities, and see if there was any truth to their rumored magics.

“Well, Your Grace, my lords, if there’s nothing else that needs my attention, I have much to prepare,” I said.

“No, that was everything, go on Odysseus. We’ll have a feast for you before you go,” Robert said, still happy that the nuisance of Daenerys would be dealt with even if not how he’d initially envisioned. As far as Robert was concerned, feasts were awesome and thus he gifted them to people when he was particularly pleased with them.

At least he wasn’t throwing me a tourney.

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The next five days were spent memorizing maps and the customs from a travelogue of a man who had stayed with a Dothraki khalasar. I acquired two more ravens, Mu and Hue, and transformed them into the same pattern as Nevermore. I named them partially after Muninn and Huginn, Odin’s ravens, but thought better of actually calling them Huginn and Muninn, just in case Odin was real, could tell, and might be upset.

But their names were also a bit of a joke; Mu means nothing, and Hue means color. So Mu Hue is no color, and their feathers were black. It wasn’t very funny, but it amused me a bit. I spent a few days reworking the visual/auditory links, adding in a variable connection selector on the send side, and a link database on the receive side. It still wasn’t a phone, but it meant that I could have up to a dozen links before I needed a redesign. That was more than enough for three ravens, Togo and Aethon.

The reason I needed the extra ravens was because Nevermore was going to stay behind in King’s landing. If Aethon and I really pushed, and I used all my available Green Mana to reduce the physical strains of running quickly, we could make as many as a thousand miles in a day. That meant that in the case of an emergency, we could be back within a fortnight even once I found Drogo’s khalasar. Nevermore would be able to keep an eye on things for me.

Jon had insisted that he would come with me. He argued that as my squire, it was his duty and I’d be shaming him if I left him behind. He could tell I still sort of wanted him to guard the girls, which he had gotten pretty sick of, so he used the ultimatum; if I left him behind, he’d follow anyways.

So he, Ghost and Shadowfax were going to be joining us. I planned to upgrade him as much as I could on the ship to Pentos so he shouldn’t slow me down much. He was a good enough swordsman that he could be a real help if things went pear shaped and we had to fight our way out, keeping the enemy off of me while I shot them with arrows or blasted them with spells.

Taking Jon and Ghost did however mean that Ned and Robert were less guarded than I would have liked, so I took two juvenile hunting dogs and gave them an upgrade package. I didn’t give them Togo’s gigantism, but the rest of the upgrade package was put into place. Then I gave them to Robert and Ned and told them I expected that the dogs would check all the food and people coming into their presence while I was gone. I also spent some time with Lady and Nymeria making sure that they were fully up to date with their enchantments and upgrades. Arya was desperately jealous I was getting to go on such an adventure.

Lastly I spent a day in the godswood, stocking up on arrows. I had this terrible suspicion that we’d end up in a running fight with forty thousand dothraki screamers, and I felt nervous about running out. By day’s end I’d filled five bags, with six dozen arrows to a bag for a grand total of three-hundred sixty arrows. It seemed an auspicious number, at least.

Then the five days were up. We feasted until late in the evening, and the morning found Jon and I on the ship to Pentos.

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The ship’s journey was pretty boring, to be honest. No pirates, no storms, just a regular crossing. I did have time to give Jon as close of an approximation of my own upgrades as I could manage.

They didn’t quite connect as well. He didn’t get quite as large of a boost in his physical abilities, had more of a minor danger sense than true combat precognition, and so on. I had suspected it when improving Togo and Aethon, and later the ravens, but there was something fundamentally different between their bodies and my own.

Still, he was significantly stronger than when he started, his natural body streamlined and enhanced as if he’d been working out hard for a year or two. That was then further boosted by the magic in his system; he was easily among the strongest men in the world, more similar to the Mountain than the youth Jon appeared to be. It didn’t really matter that I was stronger and faster still; Jon was strong enough, and easily skilled enough with a sword, to cause some real damage.

I added him to the communications link as well, so we’d be able to coordinate if separated. I had been careful upgrading Jon, doing it in small bursts so as to ensure I didn’t do anything to harm him, but that did mean that the upgrades took up the rest of the journey.

The impression I got of Pentos was a beautiful city full of shitty people. The houses had tiled roofs, and were somewhat reminiscent of Spanish architecture. The city itself was at least half again larger in population and footprint than King’s Landing, and cleaner too. Bazaars and marketplaces abounded, goods from the further parts of Essos available that you could rarely find in Westeros. The powerful, ruling merchants, called magisters, kept gorgeous walled manses. In the center of the city was the Great Marketplace, sort of like a miniature but permanent version of the fair that took place in the middle of the Hand’s Tourney. The faith of R’hllor was practiced in that city, shrines dotting the neighborhoods while a large red temple served as the center of worship.

But despite the fact that Pentos had lost a war against Braavos, and languished under a treaty that forbid them more than twenty warships, sellswords, contracts with free companies, a true army or to possess slaves, I passed many people who were collared, their faces branded. “Free bond servants,” they called them. Debt slaves in all but name, their food, clothing and shelter counted more expensive than their service. Considering their debts passed onto their children… I saw no difference between it and true slavery whatever the legal definitions.

That was not the only part of the treaty that the Pentoshi bent or broke. Their ships were often easily converted between raiders and merchantmen, and would fly the flags of Lys or Myr when carrying slaves. The city may not keep an army, but it had a strong watch and each of the magisters their own force of private guards, many of them Unsullied. And in general the city had found it cheaper to buy off the Dothraki than to fight them.

No, it was a pretty city, but a rotten one. We stayed just long enough for me to bond with the temple, gaining a White and a Red before we were once again on the road. I had been disappointed watching the service; it was clear that there was something to it, some spark of mystery, but it never caught fire and blossomed into true magic. Perhaps a more senior priest, or a different temple would be able to aid me in my search for power.

The road from Pentos went through Ghoyan Drohe to Norvos. Along the way I picked up a pair of Red mana in the Velvet Hills. Ghoyan Drohe itself was a ruin, a dead city cast down by dragonriders to rot. The canals had filled in, the city turned to swamp. It provided a pair of Black mana, and might have given more but it was unpleasant enough there that Jon asked we continue on.

I picked up a pair of Blue mana when passing the Little and Upper branches of the river Rhoyne, then another at the Noyne. Norvos was located in a valley in a hilly, somewhat mountainous area. I managed two Red mana at our rest stops before we arrived at the city.

Ruled by a theocracy of fanatic, flagellant bearded priests, I had no desire to stay in the city of Norvos and so we rode through. I picked up a pair of Greens in the nearby forest as we rested a bit and hunted to increase our supplies, then another two Red mana as we left the Hills of Norvos on our way to Qohor. I picked up a Blue crossing the Darkwash, and a Green from the forest just before entering Qohor.