Chapter 148: The First Sword's Greeting
The harbour of Braavos rose from the morning mist like something out of a story.
Perhaps it was a story of success. Of merchants who arrived with empty hands and left with ships filled with gold. Perhaps it was a story of power, old and carefully hidden beneath contracts, smiles and quiet threats.
No one truly knew. Every man who came to Braavos seemed to find a different story waiting for him.
Bjorn knew only one thing.
Whatever tale Braavos had become, his father had played a large part in it. Or once had, at least. Artos remained tied to the city through coin, trade and old loyalties, but Aldric now handled most of that work alongside his or rather their grandfather well it's a bit complicated, Lord Valen—the Sealord of Braavos.
Bjorn stood at the ship's rail as they passed beneath the Titan.
The great stone giant loomed above the water, so vast that Bjorn had to lean back to see the whole of it. He had heard stories about the Titan all his life. His father had spoken of Braavos more than any place outside the North.
Not all of his Father's words had been kind.
He often complained about the city's merchants, its hidden knives, its endless contracts and its habit of making simple matters difficult for the pleasure of it. Yet beneath every complaint had been an affection Father never managed to hide.
Braavos had been his second home after the North.
A distant second, perhaps, but a home nonetheless.
Seeing it was still nothing like hearing about it.
Their ship moved deeper into the harbour, passing hundreds of vessels from ports Bjorn had never seen. Merchant galleys, fishing boats and warships crowded the water. Men shouted in a dozen languages as sailors threw ropes toward the docks and workers pushed carts between great stone warehouses. Bells rang somewhere beyond the canals.
Bjorn looked from one sight to another, trying to take in everything at once.
Then he saw a familiar figure waiting on the dock.
Bjorn was down the gangplank before it had fully settled.
"Uncle Waymar!"
Waymar barely had time to turn before Bjorn caught him in a crushing embrace. The older man grunted at the force of it, then laughed and returned the embrace, striking Bjorn hard between the shoulders.
"Gods, boy. You've grown." Waymar pulled back and looked him over. "Heavier too. Though from what I've heard, you're more man than boy now."
Bjorn grinned.
Waymar was not his uncle by blood, but that had never mattered. He had served beside his father for as long as Bjorn could remember. His father loved the man no less than he loved his own brothers or his closest companions.
That made Waymar family to his Father . Hence Uncle.
"It's good to see you," Bjorn said.
"And you."
Bjorn looked around the crowded harbour before lowering his voice.
"Thank you for arranging everything. The ship, the rooms and the men. Especially for keeping my arrival quiet."
Waymar waved the thanks aside. "It was nothing."
"I want it to be a surprise for Aldric and Sera. You're certain no one told them?"
"Only your SeaLord knows, and Lord Valen can keep a secret better than any man alive."
Waymar smiled. "He's a politician among politicians. If the Sealord doesn't want something known, even the gods will struggle to hear of it."
"That's good." Bjorn smiled at that.
Waymar began guiding him away from the ship. Several Northern men followed at a respectful distance, gathering Bjorn's belongings and directing the servants unloading the rest.
"As for the trouble of arranging it," Waymar continued, "don't thank me too much. I handled these kinds of things for your father for years."
"These kinds of things?"
"Worse things, usually. More secrets. More confusion. Far more absurd requests made at the last possible moment." Waymar gave him a knowing look. "You share more than his face, Bjorn. Your father was ten times the headache you are, and he enjoyed every moment of it."
Bjorn laughed. He had been compared to Artos his entire life. Hearing it now doesn't feel out of place. He did have some big shoes to fill.
They left the harbour behind and entered the winding streets of Braavos.
Canals cut through the city in every direction. Stone bridges curved over dark water, connecting rows of tall, narrow buildings pressed close together. Merchants called from crowded shops while servants hurried past with baskets, crates and rolls of fine cloth.
Bjorn kept looking around like a child seeing his first tourney.
Waymar noticed but said nothing. He only smiled to himself.
The young man might be Lord of Sea Dragon Point now. He might have fought before the realm, survived a trial and founded a new house beneath the eyes of the King. None of that stopped him from staring at Braavos with open wonder.
It was good to see that there was still some boy left in him.
They crossed another bridge and finally reached a vast palace rising over the surrounding canals. Its pale stone had been carved in a style unlike anything Bjorn had seen in the North, and tall windows caught the morning light.
The Palace of the Sealord of Braavos.
Bjorn stopped at the foot of the steps and looked up.
"That's impressive."
"Aye, it is," Waymar agreed. "Quite different from the North, but impressive nonetheless."
They began climbing the steps.
"We should present ourselves to Lord Valen first. He knows you're coming, and you should pay your respects before doing anything else. There are appearances to maintain."
Bjorn slowed.
He was already looking beyond the open doors toward the great halls within. Somewhere inside that palace were Aldric and Sera.
"Uncle Waymar."
Waymar stopped and turned.
"I know that face," he said. "What's on your mind?"
Bjorn hesitated.
"Could I see them first?"
Waymar stared at him.
"I'll meet Lord Valen after," Bjorn continued quickly. "I mean him no disrespect. I only…" He glanced toward the doors again. "I've missed Aldric and Sera. I want to see them."
For all his size, his sword and his new title, he looked exactly like the eager boy Waymar remembered.
Waymar sighed.
"It isn't advised."
"I know."
"Lord Valen is expecting you. He is the Sealord of Braavos, and you're entering his palace for the first time as Lord of Sea Dragon Point."
"I know that too."
"And you still wish to run off and surprise your siblings."
"Only for a little while."
Waymar gave him a long, flat look.
Bjorn waited.
At last, Waymar shook his head. He had known he would relent from the moment the boy asked.
"Lord Valen is an understanding man," he said. "More importantly, he knows your family. After dealing with Artos for so many years, I doubt anything you do will surprise him."
Bjorn smiled.
"Don't look so pleased yet." Waymar pointed a finger at him. "I'll explain it to Lord Valen myself. You will not simply vanish into the man's palace while I stand beside an empty space looking like a fool."
"Agreed."
"You'll also present yourself properly later."
"Of course."
"And you'll apologise for placing your siblings before the Sealord."
Bjorn nodded quickly. "Tell Lord Valen I meant no disrespect. I only wanted to see my family."
"He is your family too." Waymar said "Maybe not by blood but by relation, He is your family."
Bjorn winced slightly. "Aye. That came out poorly."
"Very poorly."
"But I didn't mean it like that but it could be over reach of myself if...." Bjorn took a pause "I don't know what to think on that subject, I guess I will see Lord Valen and what does he thinks of that."
Waymar almost smiled at that. "Fair enough, that's yours and his business. But don't worry about it too much , Alright."
Bjorn nodded at that.
He turned toward the Northern men waiting behind them. "Take Lord Bjorn to the eastern wing. Aldric was in one of the conference rooms when I last heard."
One of the men bowed his head. "Aye, Ser."
Waymar stepped aside. "Go on, then."
Bjorn was already moving before Waymar finished speaking. Two of the Northern men followed him through the palace doors while the rest remained with the baggage.
Waymar watched him disappear inside and shook his head.
"Just like his bloody father." Waymar has a glint of excitement in his eyes.
Then he turned to find Lord Valen.
Waymar found the Sealord in his solar, reading through a thick pile of correspondence.
Lord Valen was an old man now, leaner than he had once been, but age had done little to dull the sharpness in his eyes. He finished reading the page in his hand, placed it carefully upon the table and looked up.
"Ser Waymar. I was told his ship had arrived."
"It did, my lord. He arrived safely."
Valen looked toward the empty space beside Waymar.
"But he is not with you."
Waymar paused.
The Sealord's mouth curved slightly.
"Ah."
"He asked to see Aldric and Sera first," Waymar explained. "I told him he ought to present himself to you before anything else, but he has not seen either of them in a long time."
"And he could not wait through one formal greeting."
"No, my lord."
Valen leaned back and laughed.
"So Bjorn crossed the Narrow Sea, and immediately ran off to surprise his brother and sister." He shook his head, still smiling. "That's good but Unfortunately, it also sounds far too much like his father."
"He asked me to pass on his apologies," Waymar said. "He meant no disrespect."
"I know."
There was no anger in Valen's voice. If anything, the news seemed to please him. "Now I couldn't be angry too much now. He is almost like a grandson to me . Seraphine spoke of him very fondly in the letters. And...."
"I have known too many great houses where brothers and sisters would gladly step over each other for a title," the Sealord said. "Some would put a knife between a sibling's ribs for less than a chair closer to power. My grandchildren run through halls merely to embrace one another." His smile softened. "I'll suffer a small breach in courtesy for that."
Waymar inclined his head. He had expected as much.
"You're wise to see it, my lord."
"I am old and alive and in power in Bravos. It's goes hand in hand, you know it much better Waymar."
Valen looked toward the windows overlooking the canals.
"You know of better, Do you think he changed much comparing to the letters my daughter sent me."
"Quite a lot. Though not entirely though, My Lord."
Lord Valen nods"He is a lord now. Founder of his own house. Change is nothing but natural" Valen's voice, he kept it controlled. "Well I will see myself how Artos eldest is. So far my other Grandchildren hasn't given me trouble or disappointed."
Waymar said nothing to that.
There was nothing useful to say.
After a moment, Lord Valen returned his attention to the matters before him.
"We will have supper tonight. Only family, my household and those closest to the children. Bjorn should be welcomed well."
"I'll arrange it."
"In a few days, we'll hold a proper feast. Merchants, bankers, keyholders, admirals and every family important enough to complain if they are overlooked." Valen tapped one finger against the table. "Bjorn came to understand his father's affairs and establish his own connections. He must meet the people with whom he'll be doing business."
"He did come for that purpose."
"Then we'll help him fulfil it." The Sealord's eyes sharpened. "He is no longer merely Artos Stark's eldest son. He is Bjorn of House Startos, Lord of Sea Dragon Point. Braavos must see him as such. Now he will be our most important ally after all."
Waymar nodded. "I'll see to everything."
"I know you will."
Waymar left the solar already considering the arrangements—the food, the wine, the guests and which influential men should sit close enough to Bjorn to feel honoured without thinking themselves too important.
He then went to find the young lord.
By now, he expected to hear Sera shouting from the other end of the palace. If Bjorn had already reached Aldric, there would be laughter, questions and enough noise to disturb half the household.
Instead, the eastern halls were quiet.
Too quiet in his opinion.
Waymar quickened his pace.
One of the Northern men stood near the end of the corridor, looking uncertain. Beyond him were the doors of a guarded conference room, where Aldric was meeting several influential Braavosi men.
A slim figure stood before those doors.
Waymar knew him immediately.
The First Sword of Braavos.
Bjorn stood opposite him, calm and unmoving. The First Sword held his thin Braavosi blade with the ease of a man born with steel in his hand.
Its point rested lightly in Firsts Swords hand but it was ready to cut at any given moment.
It had not cut him.
Not yet at least.
Waymar stopped.
The two men stared at each other, neither willing to move.
---
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