Slaves and Maesters

Slaves and Maesters

Summer Sea.

This vast sea connected the three continents of Westeros, Essos, and Sothoryos. It was also a paradise for pirates.

Ever since Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr formed the Three-City Alliance—or the "Kingdom of the Three Daughters"—the scattered pirates from the Narrow Sea to the Summer Sea had indeed become far fewer.

But they had been replaced by "legal" pirates.

Was it ironic?

Not in the slightest. Sea trade made money quickly, but how could it compare to a business with no capital required?

The ships of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh were especially skilled at switching flexibly between merchant vessels and pirate ships. Some had even joined forces with the Ironborn of the Land of Sunset, who sailed longships. Thus, the entire sea existed in a strange superposition of stability and chaos.

Upon the vast sea, an enormous oared warship was slowly sinking, while another oared warship, its sails painted with naked women and coins, was attempting to flee the area.

But it seemed unable to escape.

A sail-and-oar warship fully a size larger than the fleeing vessel was biting at its heels, hurling enormous stones without pause.

Another gigantic warship, with towering fore and aft castles, raced in from the other side. The wind was favorable, its great sails billowing full as the oarless vessel rode the wind and waves, reaching the oared warship in the blink of an eye.

Both large ships bore purple sails emblazoned with a silver dragon breathing fire entwined with laurel leaves. In the distance, three or four more sail-and-oar warships carrying the same sails could be seen approaching.

"Curse the goddess." The pirate captain dodged javelins and stones hurled from the sailing ship, then grabbed the first mate as he hurried anxiously across the deck. "Didn't you fucking say these waters were safe? Where did the Silver Dragon fleet come from?"

"I don't know!" The first mate roughly shoved the captain away. "Raise the white—" Before he could finish, a javelin pierced straight through his chest.

Then came a rain of arrows, javelins, and stones that blotted out the sky.

"Raise the white flag! Raise the white flag now!" The captain watched helplessly as the large ship rammed toward his bow.

"No—"

Boom.

The sailing ship crashed head-on into the pirate vessel's prow. Its bow pressed downward with the momentum, splintering planks and smashing the entire pirate ship sideways.

The captain lost his footing and was flung directly into the sea.

What followed was much simpler.

The other sail-and-oar warship swiftly closed in, threw out grappling hooks, and successfully captured the pirate ship.

Under normal procedures, the Valaerys family warships would loot every last treasure from the pirate vessel, free the slaves seized by the Lyseni, and then scuttle the ship. The Valaerys family had done this for a long time.

Only, this time was not as swift as usual.

Because they had found a young man aboard the ship.

"That was roughly what happened."

Evans Dayne sincerely explained his origins. He came from distant Westeros and was the youngest son of the Dayne family of Starfall in Dorne. Since he had no inheritance rights, his family had sent him to study at the Citadel in Oldtown. During an outing, however, he had been seized by pirates. He and several companions had been taken captive.

This was a shipyard and dock near the deepwater harbor of Valantis. Valantis possessed a natural deepwater harbor that stretched beyond sight, and it was this fine harbor that had allowed Valantis to maintain its important position in trade.

This shipyard and dock both belonged to the Valaerys family.

Upon learning that his fleet had rescued a maester from Westeros, Lonzell rushed to the shipyard without stopping after finishing his wrangling with the Senate.

Visari came as well.

After all, he was the only person who could confirm whether this maester was truly a "maester."

"An assistant maester." Visari reached that conclusion the moment he saw Evans.

Evans's face immediately reddened. He scratched his head in embarrassment. He truly had not yet sworn his vows to become a maester, and his chain bore only three metals: black iron for raven lore, gold for economics, and red copper for history.

It could not compare at all to Visari's multicolored chain.

Maesters were a profession unique to Westeros. They trained at the Citadel in Oldtown. A fully fledged maester had to endure a lengthy apprenticeship and assistant-maester period before taking vows only after meeting every standard.

Westerosi maesters were scholars, but also physicians, engineers, economists, historians, and even military strategists. The Citadel where they studied possessed the largest collection of books in Westeros and nearly monopolized all knowledge. Once they swore their vows as full maesters, no matter how noble their former surnames, they discarded them and lost all inheritance rights. The Citadel sent full maesters to the castles of various lords, where they assisted those poorly educated lords with administration or served as physicians.

One lord had once described maesters this way: "Sometimes, I truly think my maester is the real master of the castle."

They served the castles to which they were assigned for life, until death.

The highest position among maesters was Grand Maester in King's Landing. A maester who obtained that office served the royal family directly and held a seat of his own, and of the Citadel's, on the Small Council within Westeros's political system.

"Who is your mentor, assistant maester?"

"Maester Grey," Evans answered cautiously.

"Oh." Visari nodded, then turned to Lonzell. "He can be trusted. This boy is the student of my student."

Lonzell examined Evans Dayne from head to toe. The seventeen-year-old assistant maester wore a filthy gray robe. His skin was pale, his short hair light blond, and his eyes a beautiful violet.

It matches what the books said.

Lonzell's entire impression of Westeros came from the books Visari had brought and the murmurs of his mother, back when she had still been relatively healthy.

But Visari had left Westeros decades ago.

When he had departed, King Jaehaerys I had still sat the throne. Now, the Old King had long passed away, and the new king already had children and grandchildren.

Over these past few days, Lonzell had been constantly busy with countless matters, and he was indeed somewhat exhausted now. Still, there were things he needed to ask.

For example, Westeros's recent situation, customs, and local conditions.

The prophecy in the fire had told Lonzell that if he could successfully obtain results from the ruins of Valyria, he would soon travel west to Westeros.

He needed to gather intelligence in advance.

After all, listening to stories took far less effort than thinking through matters himself.

Lonzell sat in his chair and gestured for Evans Dayne to sit as well.

"Y-You..." The young maester was somewhat panicked, but under the encouragement of Lynn Valtaken, who had been holding back laughter beside them, he still sat down.

"Maester Evans, I need to ask you about the recent situation and customs of the Land of Sunset." Lonzell poured a cup of fruit wine and handed it to Evans.

"I will tell you everything I know." Evans Dayne hesitated as he looked at the cup in his hand, but ultimately drank the fruit wine.

It had a distinctive sweet-and-sour taste, along with a rich fruity fragrance.

"Let's begin with politics." Lonzell poured himself a cup as well, though he did not drink it. "For instance, Westeros's current king and its nobles."