Aboard the Ship to Westeros
Lucien Lannister stood at the ship's bow, his 6'2" frame silhouetted against the vast sea. The picturesque view of Westeros loomed in the distance, the wind and sun magnifying his presence. With a hint of nostalgia, he murmured to himself, "Looks like I miss going back to land. Would you think I was the one always complaining about not being able to leave home?"
Beneath the golden blaze of the sun, Salladhor Saan strode along the quay, his presence as commanding as the sails of his fleet. A man of Lysene heritage, his skin shimmered like polished mahogany, and his long white hair flowed like sea foam over his shoulders. His eyes sparkled with mischief, reflecting the cunning of a seasoned pirate and the charm of a consummate storyteller.
Draped in shimmering silver cloth, Salladhor's robe caught the light with every movement, its baggy, pointed sleeves cascading to the floor like the waves he adored. Each jade button, intricately carved into the likeness of a monkey, added whimsy to his opulent attire. Atop his head sat a cap adorned with vibrant peacock feathers, a nod to his flamboyant nature and the exotic ports he frequented.
His ensemble was completed by a tunic cinched at the waist with a silk sash, from which hung a curved dagger—ornamental yet undeniably sharp. Bleached white leather boots, polished to a mirror shine, encased his feet, their high tops reaching just below his knees. Rings of gold and gemstones adorned nearly every finger, each telling tales of distant lands and daring escapades.
"Would this be the last time I see you?" Salladhor asked.
"Perhaps," Lucien replied. "You never know what fate has in store. However, you'll get your pay's worth."
Lucien couldn't help but reflect on their first encounter.
Flashback
Lucien adjusted his crimson cloak as he approached the helm. "Captain Saan, I trust the voyage proceeds smoothly?"
Turning with a grin, Salladhor's robes shimmered in the sunlight. "Ah, Lord Lucien! The sea is a fickle mistress, but she favors me today. Or perhaps she's just trying to impress you golden lions."
Smirking slightly, Lucien replied, "Flattery suits you, Captain. Though I wonder if your tongue is as sharp in battle as it is in conversation."
Salladhor laughed heartily. "Sharp enough to cut through both sails and egos. But tell me, what brings a Lannister aboard my humble vessel? Surely not the cuisine."
"House Lannister values strong alliances. With the tides turning, we seek capable captains who can navigate both sea and politics." In his mind, he thought he couldn't just say he needed him for his ships.
"Ah, politics—the stormier sea. But I sail where the wind, and coin, take me. What cargo does your house offer for my loyalty?"
"Gold, of course. And titles for those who prove their worth."
Salladhor's eyes twinkled. "Tempting. But remember, Lord Lucien, titles are like sails—they look grand, but it's the hull that keeps you afloat. Ensure your promises have weight, lest they sink."
"A fair warning. Rest assured, the Lannisters always pay their debts."
"Then perhaps this voyage will be profitable for us both. To Westeros, and the fortunes that await!"
Present
As Lucien walked back to his cabin, he enjoyed the morning breeze. The ship rolled with the waves, but he balanced effortlessly as if he were born aboard. Soon, they would reach Westeros, yet he grappled with a conundrum: Should he save or warn Ned Stark? If he intervened, the Starks might survive, but the war of the Five Kings would come sooner, plunging the realm into devastation. Unknown occurrences could arise, but his Three-Eyed Raven abilities could help mitigate those risks. Still, he hesitated to fully rely on them, preferring to use his powers for business or battle.
He mused, I guess when I land in Westeros, I'll figure it out.
One reason he hadn't rushed back was the joy of being at sea. Since leaving Casterly Rock, he had visited his taverns worldwide. Tyrion had proven invaluable, mastering wine-making techniques Lucien had only dabbled in. The tavern became a hotspot, offering coffee, tea, wildling berry mead, Dornish spiced wine, Winterfell spiced cider etc. Bard singers attracted customers, and branding from Earth made the Lion Stag a resounding success.
Challenges arose, of course. Increased customers meant a need for more goods, and House Lannister lacked in that area. He had organized meetings with various houses, leveraging his knowledge from watching Game of Thrones to negotiate a trade alliance. The Tyrells supplied grain and vegetables, the Tullys provided livestock, the Martells offered exotic fruits, the Greyjoys supplied fish, and the Starks contributed game and cattle. In return, the Lannisters offered coin, military protection, and access to new markets.
Some houses were hesitant, particularly the Greyjoys, wary of submission, while the Tullys, Starks, and Martells sought assurances against betrayal. Using the Thousand Eyes network, he ensured no interference from other factions. To seal the agreement, he sent a raven to Tywin, who couldn't refuse the benefits of Lucien's hard work.
With the tavern thriving, he invested in the Lannister men-at-arms, hiring Bronn of Blackwater to train them in his absence. He adapted Earth's tactics, using Westerosi terminology to maintain secrecy. He also gave Bronn a Quiet Coin to ensure loyalty, knowing his love for gold would keep him aligned.
Lucien spent coins improving trebuchets, longbows, and polearms, recognizing the underutilization of weapons in Westeros. The Thousand Eyes sold healing balms effective against poisons, and he prepared for the launch of newspapers, though distribution posed challenges due to low literacy.
To address these issues, I entrusted Elijah with creating a space in the library to serve as a school, teaching knowledge to the children. Many of my informants are kids, and while there are adults involved, they must meet certain requirements to ensure they won't be liabilities. The Thousand Eyes operates like a well-oiled machine. Record keepers manage and categorize the news, while informants provide and gather critical information. The market facilitates the transfer of goods, including the sale of healing balms, all without raising suspicion.
I once considered myself a fool for not realizing I could connect transportation privileges to my informants, assuming they would only apply to me. The library continues to accumulate books, and the bank duplicates resources. The newspaper collects information daily from around the world, which is then disseminated to those within the Thousand Eyes network.
The tavern serves as a hub where goods are received and processed, making it nearly impossible for anyone to interfere with our trade. Additionally, a communication link exists within the Thousand Eyes for those I approve and grant Quiet Coins, ensuring seamless interaction among my trusted operatives.
Another project involved honing his animal bonding abilities, though he struggled to connect with larger creatures like dragons. His attempts had yielded insights from various animals, but warging remained challenging on a large scale. Frustratingly, he had yet to find a mentor for magic, despite seeking out Melisandre without success.
Lucien had experimented with poisons, determined to adapt to any threat. After nearly dying from the Tears of Lys, he faced his fears head-on. He tested various poisons, including the Strangler, Widow's Blood, and Nightshade, the latter of which when taken with a sweet syrup is delicious, which he still enjoyed. With each trial, he adapted more quickly, confident that any poison would fail to take him down.
Suddenly, a vision struck him: the ship he was on was under attack, but he sensed no immediate danger.
Horn blasts rang out as two ships closed the distance, the sound of clashing steel and sailor cries filling the air. Aboard the Valyrian, Captain Salladhor stood at the helm, eyes steely with determination. "Ready the grapples!" he commanded. "Prepare to board!"
Lucien felt a thrill at the prospect of battle, but reminded himself, Salladhor will take care of it. I can't reveal my capabilities as Lucien Lannister; it's best if people don't understand what I'm capable of.
The captain of the opposing ship rested his hand on his sword hilt, his crew mirroring his resolve. "Hold fast! Let none pass!"
With a sudden lurch, the two ships collided, wooden hulls groaning under the impact. Grappling lines were thrown, and the clang of swords meeting shields resonated. Sailors surged onto the opposing deck, engaging in brutal hand-to-hand combat.
Amidst the chaos, Salladhor exchanged a silent acknowledgment. They drew their swords and advanced, the clash of steel deafening as they circled each other, waiting for an opening.
Salladhor feinted left and struck right, his blade finding its mark. The opposing captain staggered, blood staining his tunic. But with a growl, he counterattacked, forcing Salladhor to parry.
Breathing heavily, Salladhor stood over the other captain, sword raised. A shout rang out: "Hold! This battle is over."
The skirmish ended, the wounded tended to and the dead counted. The sea calmed, reflecting the turbulent skies above.
Lucien approached Salladhor. "Doesn't seem like a coincidence. They seemed intent on targeting us."
Salladhor replied, "It seems they were after you."
"That's possible, but I didn't announce my departure from Astapor. Looks like one of your crew betrayed you. I'm curious how much my bounty is worth for them to go up against the Lannisters."
"Let's have a drink," Lucien suggested. "You can't fight a battle and not drink. Besides, a Lannister always pays his debts." He tossed a pouch of wine from his tavern to Salladhor. "What do you say?"
Salladhor caught it, grinning. "Ah! A friend with good taste—like me!"
Lucien also drank, though his beverage was merely water since wine dulls the mind, a perfect example would be Oberyn though it was just an aspect of what might have caused his loss. While sipping, he evaluated the battle, replaying what he might have done differently if he were Salladhor. He realized that each kill gradually optimized his body, enhancing his abilities through the Mark of Cain. During his studies of the Mark of Cain, Lucien discovered that each time he fought an opponent stronger than himself, the mark gradually improved his strength to match theirs. His weapon, bound to the mark, remained dormant, refusing to manifest against nearly anyone. He recalled a thought-provoking remark: A curse or a blessing? Neither. The power to reshape reality, transcend death, and dominate every form of life... but who is worthy?
It seemed that only a worthy opponent could awaken Vox Ultima, and he had experienced that awakening only once—a tale for another time.
As he gazed at the horizon, Westeros drew closer. He checked in with the Thousand Eyes network, assigning a task to uncover who had targeted Lucien Lannister. Most operatives knew him only as Sycarius, ensuring his true identity remained a secret.
Upon receiving the day's information, he learned that the king would soon journey north to meet Ned Stark and request his service as Hand of the King. It seems I'll head to the North on my own, likely arriving before the others but, I still haven't decided what to do about the Starks and since I'm headed there, a direwolf would be a nice addition.