So, guys, this is the first chapter based in Essos. Kind of a long chapter, but I'm introducing a load of new characters so… enjoy!
Also, I only got two reviews for Chapter 3, so if you haven't read it yet, please go and give it a read first – there's a reason why these chapters are in order.
Finn Snow – The Banshee,Braavos, Essos
Evie,
I know you wanted to write to me, and
I couldn't think of what else to write. Every time I put a quill to parchment, the words just escaped me. I guess I had little to say. What do you even begin to say after four years? Lady Stark was probably much happier with me gone. Little Evie and Tylan could barely remember me… Markas was enough of a milksop to believe his mother when she undoubtedly told him it was best that I left. And father? Well, he was the one that sent me away.
"Good to be home, yes?"
I looked up to see Mikko walk up from beneath the decks of the Banshee, a mercantile cog carrying spices and rum, carrying my sword belt in one hand. He was an incredibly muscular, tall man. Dark eyes and darker skin with a thick, unkept beard. He stood out in a crowd – especially in Braavos. After all, there weren't many Dothraki this side of Essos.
"Aye." I nodded, taking my belt from him and fastening it around my other belt, which held my favourite dagger; a double-edged blade of castle-forged steel, with an ironwood handle. The pommel was carved into a wolf's head. The craftsmanship of the Forresters back in the North was unparalleled. Far better than anything I would find in Essos. I turned to face the city of Braavos as the ship drew closer, making out the labyrinth of canals that ran through the city, the bright colours of Bravos and Courtesans. Traders bustling through the streets, pausing every so often to listen to the Red Priests or watch the purple-hulled cogs roll into dock. Though I'd eaten, slept, drank and fucked for two years in Braavos, I still felt like I was seeing it for the first time. "Home." I nodded.
"Good weight?" Mikko gestured to the arakh that sat on my second belt. I unsheathed it, holding my arm out straight. The blade was a damned sight bigger than I was used to, though it was lighter than a greatsword back home. I twirled it around and nodded.
"It'll do." I sheathed the blade, and looked back out across the sea. We'd passed through the legs of the Titan of Braavos, who had let out a bellowing horn to announce our arrival. I could see the Arsenal, a fortress sat upon a knobble of rock, armed with trebuchets and scorchfires and a fleet of warship galleys. It was damned near impossible to escape Braavos if they wanted you dead. I'd often tried to imagine how I would do it – under cover of night, sneak into a rowboat? Too slow. Commandeer several warships? They'd sink them all without batting an eye. It was one problem I'd never quite learned how to solve.
"You write letter?" Mikko looked down, trying to make sense of the words. He'd been speaking the common tongue for a few years now, though it was still somewhat broken for him. Though, he was better at speaking it than I was at Dothraki. It was only until recently that he insisted on speaking the common tongue, as he wanted to improve it. Otherwise, I was happy speaking Valyrian.
"Aye, to my sister back home. I mean, in Winterfell." I looked back at the words, trying to imagine what I would say. How I felt. Gods, I didn't even know how I felt, much less about how I would word it. "I haven't heard from them since I left." I refused to let my mind wander back to those days back in Westeros. I scrumpled up the parchment into a ball and threw it over my shoulder. "I reckon they're past caring anyway."
I stood up, taking a bottle of spiced rum out of the crate and uncorking it with my teeth. I spat the cork out and took a swig from the bottle. You wouldn't find this anywhere in Westeros. No, spiced rum was a commodity I had only become more fond of during my exile in Essos. I handed it to Mikko.
"Onwards then." He joined me in drinking from it. The Captain wouldn't mind – after all, we'd saved his hide from the Summer Isle pirates on our voyage from Yunkai.
The ship docked in the Purple Harbour, and we accepted a purse from the Captain before disembarking on our journey. We began to walk through the throngs of spice merchants and city watch. To my left, I could see the Sealord's Palace. Large gilded towers and a clockface that looked out amongst all of us. I still remembered the year I'd served in there… Gods, I was a fool. What a pittance I made there…
We made our way past the Iron Bank; a large stone fortress with heavy iron doors behind steel-clad men. I took note of each of them, remembering every detail I could. Further South, there was the Moon Pool, which was filled with goldsmiths and craftsmen. At night, however, I remembered how the population changed into the pugnacious Bravos that swaggered along, spitting and glaring at each other. Placing a finger upon the hilt of your own blade was enough for them to be challenged in a duel. They didn't care for who you were and what you cared for. They just wanted to show off how good they were.
I hadn't met one that was better than me.
I led Mikka to the Long Canal, past the minstrels that played their lutes and sang their songs, the dancing girls and barges of Courtesans.
"Is Braavos always like this?" Mikka asked me. I turned around to see a small boy, wrapped in rags, reaching for Mikka's purse. I grabbed his wrist and hissed at him.
"Get to fuck, sneaksby." I snarled, letting him scurry off into the crowds.
"The boy just wanted to eat."
"They boy eats just fine." I replied, making sure the child wouldn't return. I turned back to Mikka "It's the Uncloaking of Uthero."
"Of what?"
"Braavos was founded by slaves." I explained to Mikka as we climbed into flat-bottomed rowboat, muttering a few directions in Valyrian to the boatsman. "Generations after the slaves were freed, Uthero paid off the slavers."
"Why?" Mikka asked. "Who was this Uthero?" I simply shrugged in response. "Well, was he the leader of these people? Or some sort of God-"
"Mikka, we're currently inside the Bastard Daughter of Valyria, and you're more interested in her father." I lounged back into the boat, taking his wineskin and drinking a measure of it. I wasn't much for wine, but it'd do.
"You know this man well, then?"
"Belos?" I nodded. "Aye, we met some years ago. When I first came here. I served under him for the Sealord of Braavos."
"So, why did you leave?"
"The competition turned stale. As did the pittance I were paid…" I stood up as we neared the Drowned Town, "serving under a miser like the Sealord is no way to find a fortune. The Second Sons offered new challenges."
"And women?" Mikka smirked at me. I couldn't help but chuckle as I climbed out of the boat.
"And riches."
A small, rickety pier had been constructed alongside the head of a large domed tower. Inside that tower, there would be a grand hall. Filled with crumbling mosaics and all manners of cutthroats and cutpurses.
Walking inside, we took a left, through a small passageway and up the cracked marble staircase which led to a balcony. The balcony was filled with rough tables and rougher patrons, all drinking spiced rum and wine mixed with all sorts of tonics. If you were looking for a killer or a thief, this was the place you'd find one.
But I was looking for both.
By the edge of the balcony, sat at a table, was a familiar sight. Belos was an older man now, late into his sixth decade, with dark chestnut curls and a greying beard. He still dressed like a true bravo, with his aqua shirt and wooden brown jerkin. The only thing that separated him from the others at the table was his dark hood that was sewn into the inside of his jerkin. Belos rested a hand on the silver-hilted rapier with a ruby set inside the pommel like a dragon's eye. The hilt was protected by a silver basket which snaked around the hilt like vines, intertwining at the hilt.
Opposite Belos, was Hilario Baharis. He was a handful of years my senior, with a lithe figure – a boon when it came to the water dance. Though he looked as though he was still a boy, with a rounded face and soft features. Hilario was wiping down his rapier, a skinny blade with a hilt that wrapped around the hilt. I grinned to myself as he began to twirl a finger into his short brown hair – still a peacock. He wore an olive-green shirt under a darker, forest-green gambeson, which brought out the emerald in his eyes.
It was the third figure, however, that was not familiar. She was a child, yet to reach womanhood, with platinum hair and brilliant speckled violet eyes. I narrowed my eyes at her – a Targaryen, perhaps? Or some other Valyrian house? She dressed more like Hilario and Belos, with a silk pink shirt under a soft violet doublet, which she had left unfastened. As we neared, I caught sight of her blade – a small rapier with a sapphire set inside the pommel.
"Morning, lads," I called to them, looking at the girl, "lady." I greeted her with a short nod. She gave me a polite smile, and looked to Belos, who let out a deep laugh and stood up.
"By the Gods… Finn Snow! I thought I'd heard some Lyseni slaver poked you full of holes."
I patted my jerkin and shrugged, "Not yet, it seems."
Belos laughed and grabbed my forearm, and then wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Hilario! Get the man a drink!" Hilario stood up and walked over to the stockpiled barrels to produce a tall sapphire bottle of spiced rum. Belos only then noticed Mikka lurking behind me. He took a step backwards, his hand falling next to the hilt of his rapier. "Who's this then?"
"Belos, this is Mikka, son of Dhina. Mikka," I turned to my companion, "this sullen old crock is formerly," I cleared my throat and dropped into my Braavosi accent, "the First Sword of the Sealord of Braavos. Belos Vollys, Bravo of Braavos." I plunged into a deep bow, watching Hilario laugh in the background. Belos, however, kept his eyes on Mikka.
"Good morrow." Mikka held out a hand, which Belos just watched intently. His eyes fell on Mikka's arakh.
"You let him carry a blade, do you?" Belos asked me.
"Peace, Belos," I whispered, "Mikka's saved my life more times than I care to count."
Belos grumbled and turned back to the table, leading me towards the small girl that sat there. "Taenara," he rested a hand on her shoulder, "this malapert you see is Finn Snow. The infamous Bastard of Winterfell."
"Bastard?" Taenara furrowed her brow in confusion as Hilario handed me the bottle of rum.
I'd learn to live with this constant comment. Ever since I was a child, I'd found my own ways to cope with it. I raised the bottle to Taenara and took a sip before I turned back to Belos. "You're recruiting fairly young, ey?"
"She's promising," Belos informed me, "and she heeds instruction." Belos looked to Taenara. "Four years ago, I found this boy stepping off a ship at the Purple Harbour. The boy seemed intent on fighting every Bravo he could find."
"And I won." I sat down at the table.
"Barely." Belos shook his head, "But there was potential there. I took him under my wing, and several long, long, months later, he was under my command, protecting the Sealord of Braavos." Belos flickered his eyes to watch Mikka as he moved to sit down next to me. Taenara moved further away from him, and closer to Belos.
"And it was the safest he'd ever been." I grinned.
"Last I heard, Snow," Hilario placed a foot on the table, "you'd joined up with the Second Sons outside Yunkai."
"Hilario." I nodded my greeting. I began to notice something new – the beard that covered his jaw. It certainly lended him a few years he deeply needed. "What is this thing you've cultivated on your chin?" I leant forwards, trying to pick at it, only to have Hilario bat away my hand. "It's true, I served with them for a time. But Mikka and I," I clapped a hand on Mikka's shoulder, "we decided to find our fortune elsewhere."
"Didn't the Second Sons slaughter the Dothraki?" Belos asked Mikka, his fingertips grazing the pommel of his rapier. I saw Mikka look away before responding.
"I am no Dothraki."
A weighty silence stood in the air. I knew little of Mikka's past, as he was so reluctant to speak of it. But there were hints. He was a damned good fishermen. During our voyage through Valyria, he'd kept us alive with a line and a crudely-bent hook. And Mikka didn't dress like a Dothraki Screamer, with his hair cropped short and leathers above the belt.
"It's a bit of a touchy subject." I explained to Belos.
"Westerosi." I heard a voice from behind me, and couldn't help but smile. The musical chime that drifted through the air. I turned around to face her; she wore a veil over her face, under her dark russet curls, but I knew what hid behind it. Her olive skin. Her Almond-shaped violet eyes. Her bright red, thick and soft lips, like petals kissed together. Around her neck, she wore a scarlet jewel, like I'd seen on many of the Red Priests and Priestesses. Under this necklace was another, with silver charms of crescent and full moons, hanging from the chain like raindrops from a web.
"Braavosi." I grinned at Helesa, bowing my head slightly. She walked closer to us, hips swaying with the motion of waves, her purple satin dress revealing her curved hips and lithe frame. The Daughter of Dusk, the most beautiful, elegant, graceful, star-dropped courtesan in all of Braavos. "I hope your blade is sharper than your wit." I could make out a smile from behind her veil.
"Forgive me, it seems I'm absent gifts."
"You've probably gifted it to another woman… or anyone, for that matter, as long as they have a flagon of wine."
I scoffed, "I don't drink wine." She raised an eyebrow. "And, there's only one woman for me." I hastily replied. I reached up to remove her veil, but she simply gave me a small shove, and glided around the table to pour herself a glass of rum.
"If you're looking to line your pockets with the Sealord's coins, I'm afraid I've resigned." Belos informed me.
"I've a mind for something else entirely, Belos."
"And I'm entirely sure I wish you luck."
"Oh, forgive me," I transitioned into my Braavosi accent again, "I believed myself to be in the company of cutpurses and courtesans." I laughed, losing the accent as Belos rolled his eyes, and Hilario chuckled. "It seems I'll need to find some new villains and scoundrels to consort with."
"Cutpurses?" Mikka growled, standing up with a hand on the hilt of his arakh. It had slipped my mind. I turned back to him.
"Pickpockets. That's all."
"Thieves?"
I thought for a moment, "It's a different type of thievery." Mikka shook his head and began to walk away. "Fuck…" I sighed, walking after him and holding him in place.
"The Screamer has a problem with thieves?" Belos asked pointedly. I turned back to Belos.
"It's fine, I'm handling it."
"Then handle it, Finn Snow."
I turned back to Mikka, "We came all this way. Just trust me, okay?" I held out my hand. Mikka fixed his eyes on Belos before he looked back to me and grabbed my forearm with a nod. We walked back to the table and sat down.
"Regale us with a tale, Finn Snow." Belos implored me. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you for two years."
"Aye, we got held up in Yunkai recently," I grinned at Mikka, "the townsfolk were so taken with my swordplay, they wanted me to stay and show them all some more."
"Show them in the pits." Mikka stated.
"A small matter." I waved a casual hand.
"In the fighting pits, you mean?" Taenara asked me, violet eyes full of wonder and excitement. I nodded, taking a swig from the bottle.
"Aye." I unsheathed my arakh, handing it to her so she could feel the weight "A match of ten men – four of which wetted my blade. A Dothraki Screamer, a man trained as an Unsullied, a fearsome beast that was half-man, half-giant!" Taenara smiled with glee as I told her tale. "I received a champion's purse for the match-"
"Alright, Snow, I don't need you filling her head with this nonsense."
"It's no nonsense!" Taenara protested. Belos, Hilario and I laughed at this. I suppose we had both been that excited child at some point before, when Belos had taken us in. I took the arakh back from her, sheathing it on my belt.
"I've a present for you Belos."
"A present?" Belos curled his lip. I reached into my shirt and produced the key I had on a rope. It was small, seemingly simple and solid iron. I slid it across the Belos, who raised it to his eye, examining it with confusion.
"A key?" Belos frowned. "You've given me some rum key?"
"Not any poxy key, Vollys," it was hard to keep my voice down when I was this excited, "that's taken from around the neck of a keyholder! A keyholder of damned Iron Bank!"
"A keyholder?" Hilario took the key from Belos, examining it with shock and eagerness. "You've a talent for this line of work, Snow."
"It ain't work if you love it." I smirked.
"What about the keyholder?" Belos asked me, no smile on his face. I paused before swallowing the rum.
"He won't be needing it no more." I felt Mikka shift uncomfortably next to me. Killing never sat comfortably with him. A rare sight in a sellsword, I know.
"So, why have you brought this key?" Helesa plucked it from Hilario's hands, twirling it between her fingers.
I licked my lips, knowing they'd interrupt me as soon as I started explaining. "Look, the doors to the Iron Bank are impenetrable, but if we focus on deception rather than assaulting-"
"Not this drivel again, Snow…" Belos rolled his eyes as Hilario groaned.
"We'd earn a thousand times more what we'd earn in a year from skinflint like the Sealord. Or even the Golden Company, for that matter."
"It's ambitious." Helesa laughed. "You never fail to intrigue me, Snow."
"What's with this blade, Snow?" Hilario nodded at my arakh. "Your Dothraki Screamer give you that?" He looked at Mikka.
"Just a man in the pits who thought he'd talk shite to my face."
"And?"
"He ain't talking shite no more." I saw Mikka shift uncomfortably once again.
"Big swords don't make big men." Hilario leant back into his chair. "If you can't make do with a fine little blade like this," he wrapped a hand around the hilt of his rapier, "you'd be better off not carrying one at all."
I hadn't realized how much I'd missed Hilario's competitiveness. "You sound a tad bitter, Hilario." I lounged back in my own chair. "Have the women complained about size a lot to you? Are you scared they'll prefer mine?"
Hilario opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Belos. "You young men…" Belos chuckled, "the greatest victories are the ones where you don't even have to draw your sword. Come, share a drink!" We all raised our glasses and bottles, "Raise a glass to freedom! Far from the reach and hold of Kings. To cutthroats, courtesans and other deadly bastards!" We knocked our drinks into each other before drinking a good measure. Taenara was the only one who did not drink. I felt the spices char my throat, and though Belos drank it often, it was Helesa that finished her drink first with ease.
"This establishment has seen better days…" Helesa murmured aloud.
"Then let us take a look inside the Iron Vaults!"
There was a communal groan from everyone at the table.
"Oh, slip out of your reverie, boy," Belos rolled his eyes and looked to Taenara, "he's been peddling this twaddle for years now: It's reckless, Snow!"
"No, it's courageous. There's a difference – no-one's ever thought to rob the Iron Bank before. No-one's even tried…"
"I wonder why." Hilario muttered.
"…So how can you say it can't be done? Thousands of fortunes lay behind those doors!"
"It's no fortune if you can't spend it." Hilario reasoned. "How would one even begin to carry all that wealth?"
"We wouldn't need to!" I near-exclaimed. I grabbed the key back from Helesa, "The man that this key belonged to, he said that there's a shipment coming into Braavos. This shipment includes a jewel that is beyond valuable – the size of a newborn babe!"
The table fell silent as everyone looked at each other. It was Belos who spoke first, and in that moment, I knew they were hooked. "Let's say we were willing. How would you do it?"
"I've got a plan."
"Not another one of your plans…" Helesa snickered.
"Just listen to me. Criticise me if you must, call me mad, but do so after I've finished talking."
Belos sighed and leaned forwards. "I knew you'd be the death of me, Finn Snow. Go on then, tell me this damned plan of yours."
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! It was pretty long… Anyway, please leave a review – it's been a long-awaited chapter.
The next chapter is called The Lady of Dragonstone