A/N: Thanks for the support guys. This chapter doesn't have a lot of action but its important for the world building. I'm actually quite busy with my thesis so I can really focus on one fic at a time. Sorry.

Chapter II

728 BC, Sandship, Dorne, Mors Martell

Alexander or Mors, as his new given name was now called, peered at a map of Westeros. It was truly a new world. The map was a relatively new one, created by the Maesters of the Citadel, just thirty years ago. The Citadel was a sort of priesthood of knowledge where both sons of nobles and commoners could come and be educated in exchange for vows of chastity and service for life. Eventually these men became maesters and were sent to all the castles and towns of the land.

In exchange, the lords of the land payed a certain amount of dues to the Citadel. As the lords received a learned scholar to serve them for life, it seemed like a good bargain. The maester who served Mors' family was named Galen and had been originally from the Reach, a region to the north west of Dorne.

Mors had learned over the years just how different his old world was from his new one. For one, the seasons lasted years sometimes even decades. Fortunately or unfortunately for him, he had been born in Dorne, a land of deserts and oases. He hadn't seen a winter yet but he had been told by his mother that the most winter did was slow the flow of rivers, make the waters and weather colder. Snow did form in the mountains that separated Dorne from the rest of the continent. Unlike in the far North, which was winter almost all the time.

The climate and land was similar to Mesopotamia and Egypt. The Greenblood was Dorne's Nile and its waters flowed out into the Summer Sea about two or three days ride to the south of the Sandship. It was quite a contrast, if one looked north it was dusty rocks turning into desert sand. To the south it became progressively greener and more fertile as one got closer to the Greenblood.

Mors had been dismayed and near furious when he had learned that his House had once been vassals of House Yronwood, a House that claimed the title of High King of Dorne. This title once had been a true title but was now a meaningless one as it was disputed by several other Houses. The political system of Westeros, the continent he was born in centered around Noble and Royal houses. Much like in Greece, the land was divided according to the strength of each state had to control. Once, there had been a thousand kings all throughout the continent.

The First Men who had come before, had established themselves some eleven thousand years ago. After centuries of fighting among themselves, they had consolidated. There had been seven, sometimes eight kingdoms, each ruling over its own region. In Dorne, the title of High King was not a hereditary one. The minor kings of Dorne chose one of them to be the first among equals, with that High King's power depending on his House's allies and its own military might. Recently, though House Yronwood claimed the title, it was disputed and had been for several decades. This ensured the complete fracturing of the power of Dorne into six or so petty kingdoms, some Andal and some First Men. Five thousand or so years ago, the Andals crossed the Narrow Sea and invaded Westeros. These were the race of his house and through centuries of fighting, broke most of the kingdoms of the First Men save for the northern-most kingdom, unimaginatively named The North.

Several Andal adventurer Houses came to Dorne during those centuries, warring with the local First Men Houses. His House had even slew to the last, two other Houses and won for itself control of land to the north of the mouth of the Greenblood. This however did not gurantee the power and prestige. Fellow Andal Allyrion of Godsgrace and Houses Jordayne of the Tor had been more powerful than House Martell. House Jordayne had even crowned themselves kings at one point. House Martell had been a vassal to both from time to time, though the amount of control the liege House had over them had been weak at best. His House had constantly slipped out of their control and had to be forcibly coerced back into vassalship.

This pattern repeated itself for decades, until House Allyrion and House Jordayne bent the knee to House Yronwood. This put House Martell nominally under their control but this was even more tenious than that of Houses Allyrion and Jordayne. This had allowed Mors' father, Cylas, to slip out of their grasp and expand House Martell's lands. Several campaigns later and a quasi-alliance/vassalship had been established with House Santagar of Spottswood below the mouth of the Greenblood, formerly a vassal of House Dalt of Lemonwood.

While House Santagar had bent the knee to House Martell, Cylas had taken Lord Santagar's daughter as his wife. Besides that brilliant move, Cylas had also done several things to strengthen House Martell. Among these was an expansion of control around the mouth of the Greenblood, traditionally lands of House Dalt, and further inland into the lands of House Allyrion. This had been possible because House Yronwood had been distracted by wars with the kings of House Fowler and raids from the Stormlands, a neighboring region to the north of Dorne. Cylas, however, had been killed fending off an attempt by House Dalt to reclaim control of the mouth of the Greenblood.

This had left his mother in control until his majority which meant that House Martell was quite weak at the moment. While his mother was a capable administrator, she had failed to invest much into House Martell's military might. Mors had come up with an idea to help remedy this. All he needed was his mother's approval.

Lady Sandra Martell nee Santagar

Sandra watched her son leave the solar with a look of amusement. Mors was her little genius boy. Even as a babe, she felt his eyes regard her with a certain intelligence that one did not expect from a baby. Of course, she had dismissed this notion at first. All mothers thought their babies were special. It was just how things were.

Then she noticed the differences he had with other babies. He almost never cried, well, never with tears. If he needed to be changed or was hungry, he gave a specific cry. If he was uncomfortable, he would wriggle until he was or she noticed his movements. That was just until he could walk. As soon as he could crawl, he began his escapades.

She still remembered the near panic attack she had when she came into the nursery to find him missing. Apparently, his nurse maid had turned around for a second and he was gone. The she and the guards had searched for an hour until, to their relief, they had found Mors in the armory. He had been patting at his reflection on a metal shield. She had scooped him up in her arms all the while scolding him, in her relief she nearly missed the quirking of his left eyebrow. From then on, she rarely let him leave her sight. She even moved his crib into her quarters. Even then, she would put him in the crib before she went to bed and woke up the next morning with him slumbering sweetly beside her.

That had given her another fright but she calmed as she toyed with his soft hair. This was her son, and even if he was different from other babes, she would love him the same.

As her son grew, her initial beliefs of his "specialness" were proven correct. He quickly learned the Common tongue and devoured books at a prodigious rate. A brilliant mind combined with a strong and active body made for a terror among the inhabitants of the castle.

As young as he was, her son was the most disciplined person she knew, that included even the adult men who served as House Martell's men-at-arms. Her son's morning were consumed by lessons with Maester Galen followed by exercise in the training yard. Yes, Exercise! What child knows the word, let alone want to exercise without being coerced into it. Mors always seemed to be writing or drawing things in on parchment when he was not in lessons or running around the training yard.

Flashback

Out of curiosity, she had taken the drawings out when Mors had been busy and had been unable to understand what was written there. It seemed like there were lines and dots with arrows drawn to connect them. Then there was writing. Now, if it had been anyone else, they would have dismissed it as mere childish scribbles but she was not anyone else. She brought the parchment to Maester Galen, who had spent a few days trying to disipher the letters of her son's new language. After giving up, he had inform her that it seemed like her son had learned a new form of writing, though from where, Maester Galen did not know. He had nearly dismissed the idea that Mors had invented a whole new form of writing when Ser Aron Santagar, the youngest of her three brother and master-at-arms of the Sandship, came along. He asked what they were disagreeing about. When shown the parchment, he gasped and snatched it out of their hands. He muttered to himself for a few moments before turning back to them.

"They're battlelines. With movement orders for both cavalry and infantry." He paused. "The writing is obviously orders to the armies on the field. I've never seen the writing but from the context it is obvious. Whoever drew this.." He tapped the parchment. "is a genius of warfare."

As he went back to staring at the now revealed battlelines, she had given a half-glare at Maester Galen for his dismissal of her son's abilities. He bowed his head sheepishly, acknowledging his blunder. Before he could apologize, Ser Aron spoke again.

"I don't suppose you know who wrote this? I would like to see more of his work. If only I could discuss his work with him. Oh what a thing that would be."

She smirked at that. "Well cousin, you are in luck." He looked at her, quizzically. "The author is in the keep at this moment." The look on her brother's face when she introduced said author was a memory she would find funny to her dying day.

Flashback End

One of the effects of the event was that Ser Aron had taken to long hours discussing matters of war with Mors. She was happy for both of them. Aron had been slightly uncomfortable in the Sandship, training men that he had fought on the battlefield. But the daily talks as well as training he gave Mors allowed Aron to settle into his role at last. For Mors, it provided a father figure that he lacked and both uncle and nephew grew quite fond of each other.

She would be the first to admit that she knew next to nothing about warfare, tactics or the training of men. Her father had allowed her to be taught how to wield a knife but only as a precaution from the snakes and scorpions common to their homeland. It was understood that she wasn't going to charge into a battle ever. She had instead been, taught numbers and administration. This was so that when she married, she would be able to manage her husband's lands, especially while he went of to war.

When she had married Cylas, she had accepted it as her duty. She was a faithful and dutiful wife, caring for her husband's every need. Cylas had quickly grown fond of her and entrusted the administration of his lands to her while he focused on his army. All things were as they should be. She had been overjoyed when she had discovered she was with child and he shared in her joy. Unfortunately, just scant weeks before her due date, they had received news of an incursion by House Dalt. The insult dealt them by House Martell for taking some of their lands and their vassal, for House Santagar's bending the knee to another and joining them through marriage. These were insults that were not to be forgotten. And so, after a period of recuperating from their losses, they march an army north.

Despite her misgivings, she dutifully kissed Cylas' cheek, gave him his helmet and watched him ride of to war. Never to return to her side, what could have been was never to be. Mors was her life now, all that she had left to live for. She had vowed that she would do all in her power to raise him to greatness. Part of that was wise administration of the lands he would rule.

Her husband's expansion had nearly tripled Martell lands in all directions. For any other House in any other region, that was a massive boon. However, this was Dorne. Most of it was useless tracks of sand, interrupted by oases. Farmland was centralized around these oases as well as along the banks of the rivers. Dorne wasn't completely devoid of trees though. In fact, House Martell and House Spottswood controlled almost a third of the forests of Dorne. This included many of the orchards of blood oranges and lemons, from which House Dalt's Lemonwood got its name. This had added some revenue but not a lot. House Santagar had made most of its money by selling wood from the forests they controlled. House Martell had also controlled several forests but had only sparingly sold wood from them.

Around the time her son was born, an artisan by the name of Heram had made a discovery. He found a way to make, what to the entire continent was useless, into a prized commodity. He had discovered how to turn sand into something he called glass.

The intricacies of the craft was lost on her when she had given him an audience but she had still been convinced by his eagerness. She had invested in his new craft, seeing no issue with spending some gold in the short term to ensure loyalty in the future. The deal she had struck was that should the idea show its worth, she would arrange that his entire family would be brought under House Martell's direct protection. Half of the profits from the sale of the crafts, after the costs of production was deducted, was to go to House Martell when the project got on its feet.

The gamble had paid off. Heram had set up his workshop some distance from the shadow town that grew around the Sandship. This put him closest to the sea since the craft required a lot of heat. A glass furnace was too dangerous to put close to the cluster of buildings that made up the shadowtown and putting it closer to the water just made plain sense.

For the first year, Heram went through the testing phase, using different methods to create glass objects of varying quality. One of these techniques, which was most successful was something he called glassblowing, involving an iron pipe and the furnace. Within the second year, he was turning out beautiful pieces for pitchers, glass mugs and glass crystals. She had arranged a set of glassware to accompany a shipment of cedar that Houses Martell and Santagar had sold to House Redwyne for their fleet. The value of glass grew rapidly. As a woman, she understood the appeal of a table set with glass that glittered and reflected light. She knew that her fellow ladies were a driving force behind the widespread fame and therefore purchase of glassware. The Reach was, of course, was the second richest regions of Westeros, behind only the gold and silver rich lands of the Westerlands. The ladies of the Reach liked to show off during their many many feasts. What better way to display your wealth than a beautiful and exquisite set of glassware?

As soon as Heram perfected the methods, he had taught it to his family, making the process quicker and the number of glass created increase. Merchants began stopping by the Sandship, trying to be the first to purchase a batch of glass. She had even ordered the creation of docks on the mouth of the Greenblood, to allow for the increased trade from the other kingdoms. Gold was coming in the thousands, greatly increasing House Martell's wealth and prestige. In truth, House Martell had been on the verge of poverty during Cylas' lordship. He had nearly driven the House into ruin, paying for the men-at-arms and hedge knights he had gathered. It was only her shrewd managing of their resources during his life and letting a large portion of those men-at-arms go after Cylas' death, that she had been able to prevent financial ruin. The gold coming from the glass had been put first to repairing the damage done to the lands of House Santagar and House Martell during the previous raids and battles. A portion had gone to building the docks that now serviced ships from as far as Gulltown in the Vale. There had even been a ship from one of the cities of the Rhoyne. She didn't really know anything about those from Essos. After all, the Citadel itself did not have a lot of information on Essos, at least that they would share. The Rhoynar, however, caused no trouble and brought gold, so she was happy to take it. After that, she had spent some of it improving the defenses of the Sandship, repairing any worn down walls and broken towers. Most of it, she had put into the castle's vaults.

She had actually been thinking of investing some of the money back into the military might of House Martell, she just wasn't sure where to start. She looked back at the parchment Mors had written his proposal. There was that one word she was puzzling over. An Agoge? Agoge? What did that word mean? Perhaps she should call Aron up to her solar. Maybe he might have an idea.

A/N: So what you guys think? Please tell me tell me tell me!