JAIME
The object was small, perfectly round, and felt cold in his palm. Under the scorching sun of Lannisport, the wooden casing looked beautiful and its glass layer reflected light that dazzled the eyes. However, the real magic was not on the outside, but what lay beneath.
A thin iron needle, balanced on a very fine pivot, floating in a sealed container.
Compass.
To Steven Evans in his old life, this thing was a cheap trinket one could get at a souvenir shop. But here? In Westeros? It was a marvel of engineering. It was the key to conquering the seas without having to act like a child afraid to let go of his mother's skirts.
Jaime spun it in his hand, smiling with satisfaction as he watched the needle sway gently before stubbornly returning to point in one direction. North.
It only took two weeks. Two weeks to make it. Of course, "make" was too grand a word for what Jaime actually did. He didn't forge the needle himself, he didn't blow the glass, he was merely the person who stroked the needle against a lodestone.
He drew a rough sketch, a blueprint that might have been laughed at by modern engineers, and handed it to the best craftsman in Lannisport along with a pouch of Gold Dragons.
Being rich was indeed pleasant, Jaime thought with a hint of irony. In his past life as a teacher with a meager salary, realizing an idea required funding proposals, bureaucracy, and months of time. Here? He only had to snap his fingers, and people would run to make his imagination a reality for a piece of gold. Power was the best lubricant for the wheels of innovation.
"Take a look," Jaime said, breaking his own reverie. They were walking down the bustling streets of Lannisport, amidst the scent of spices and salted fish. He held the object out to Jon who walked beside him. "What do you think?"
Jon, who usually held a sword or shield with the confidence of a veteran, accepted the small object with an almost amusing caution. As if he were holding a dragon egg ready to hatch. His large hands made the compass look very tiny.
Jon brought the object close to his face, squinting under the sunlight. He stared at the quivering needle in detail. Then, he turned his body to the left, then to the right.
His eyes widened as he saw the needle did not turn with him, but remained pointing in the same direction. Towards the North.
"This..." Jon mumbled, then shook it slightly, trying to confuse the mechanism inside. The needle settled again, pointing north once more. His face looked amazed, a mixture of superstitious fear and pure awe.
"It seems to work well, Lord Jaime," Jon said, his voice low. "This thing... it indeed always points north. No matter where I turn. If this is not magic, then I do not know what is. Did you trap a small spirit inside?"
Jaime chuckled, taking the compass back before Jon dropped it out of fear. "Not a spirit, Jon. And not magic. It is called knowledge."
"Knowledge acting like magic," Jon muttered, still staring at Jaime's pocket where the object had disappeared.
"Lodestone has a natural affinity with the north," Jaime explained with immense simplification. He wasn't going to start explaining about the earth's magnetic field or poles. That would make Jon's head explode. "I only utilized that property of nature."
His thoughts drifted to the next plan. This little object had to be kept secret. At least for now. He planned to tell Uncle Kevan about this. They could then try it at sea, and then the man could see its value.
In trade, time was money. In war, time was victory.
And war... Jaime felt a chill on the back of his neck even though the air was warm. War might erupt soon. The situation in Duskendale was still unclear, and Aerys's madness was a ticking time bomb. If, or when, chaos occurred, House Lannister had to possess every possible advantage to survive. Mastery of the sea was one of them.
His thoughts drifted to other possibilities. Science in his old world was full of things that could change the course of history. If he wanted... he could just go find sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter. Mix them in the right ratio.
Gunpowder.
He could create explosives. He could make cannons that would crumble castle walls in a matter of hours. He could make muskets that would make armored knights obsolete overnight.
But Jaime immediately brushed the thought away. No. That was too dangerous. Too chaotic. This world was already brutal enough with swords and dragonfire. Giving gunpowder to people like Aerys Targaryen or Tywin Lannister? That was akin to handing a match to a child in a dynamite warehouse. He didn't want to be the Oppenheimer of Westeros.
Compass was safe enough. Paper was safe enough. Gunpowder... let that remain Steven's secret.
"We will try it later on a ship," Jaime said, bringing his mind back to the present. "I will speak to Uncle Kevan. Come to think of it, it would indeed be nice to be at sea. I want to breathe the air there, far from book dust and furnace smoke."
Jon sighed in relief, seemingly glad the topic shifted from the 'magic' object. "To sea? As long as you do not intend to sail all the way to Valyria, I am with you. I prefer solid ground beneath my feet, but sea air is indeed good for the lungs."
"Just around the coast, Jon. We need to ensure this needle stays stable when waves hit," Jaime assured. "And maybe fish a little. Who knows, I might be luckier than in the Riverrun river."
"As long as I don't have to clean them afterwards," Jon grumbled, but there was a smile on his face. "Last time fishing with you, the fishy smell stuck to my armor for three days."
"That is called natural perfume, Jon. The ladies might like it," Jaime teased.
"Cat women, maybe," Jon replied.
They laughed, walking side by side up the ascending road to Casterly Rock. The road was wide and winding, carved directly into the living rock of the giant cliff.
Jaime looked up, towards the peak that dominated the sky. This was his home now. A fortress of power built on gold and pride. Sometimes, the weight of the Lannister name felt as heavy as the rock above him.
"By the way, Lord Jaime," Jon said as they passed the gate. "Does that thing... have a name?"
Jaime smiled, touching the pocket where the object was stored.
"I call it 'Pathfinder'," Jaime answered. "Or maybe 'Sailor's Eye'. I haven't decided. Tyrion surely has a better name idea later."
"As long as it's not 'Jaime's Magic Toy'," said Jon.
"That works too."
…
The sea wind blew hard at the Lannisport docks, bringing with it the sharp scent of salt and the cries of hungry seagulls. There was a small merchant ship, bobbing gently at the edge, as if impatient to cut through the waves.
"You really are something, nephew," Uncle Kevan chuckled as they walked down the creaking wooden pier. His voice was deep and calm, a contrast to the noise of the harbor around them. Behind him, several red-cloaked guards followed along with Jon, their eyes watching every dockworker who passed too close.
On Kevan's other side walked a middle-aged man with a sturdy posture like a wooden barrel. Captain Colin. His face was like an old map etched by wind and sun, and his thick hair that might have once been black had now turned completely gray, like sea foam in a winter storm.
"So far since we walked from the castle," Kevan continued, his eyes on the compass he held, "this 'compass' thing indeed hasn't lost its north direction. Even when we turned on the winding roads earlier." He shook his head slightly, a thin smile playing on his lips. "This is something that truly makes no sense."
Jaime chuckled, his steps light on the wooden planks of the pier, accepting the compass back. "Everything there makes sense, Uncle. There are causes for how it happens, it is not magic. Just like water always flows down, this needle always flows north."
They boarded the ship in front of them. The ship was not big, just a coastal merchant vessel with a single mast, but the deck was clean and the ropes were coiled neatly, the sign of a disciplined captain.
"Welcome to the Single Sail, Ser Kevan, Lord Jaime," Captain Colin greeted with a hoarse voice that sounded like grinding stones. He didn't bow too deeply; the sea made everyone a little more equal. It seemed. "The wind is good today. We can reach open water quickly."
"Good," said Kevan. "Take us there, Captain. My nephew wants to show his new toy, and I want to see if it can withstand seasickness."
The ship began to move, the sail unfurled with a loud snap as it caught the wind. Slowly, Lannisport began to shrink behind them. The sounds of the city faded, replaced by the crashing of waves hitting the hull and the hiss of parting water.
Jaime stood near the helm, feeling the ship sway beneath his feet. This sensation... he missed it. In his past life, he had taken a ferry a few times, but nothing could compare to being on a wooden sailing ship, feeling the power of nature pushing you forward.
As the land began to become a thin line in the distance, and they were surrounded by an endless expanse of blue, Jaime took out his compass.
"Captain Colin," Jaime called. "Can you tell me where North is right now? Without looking at the sun."
Colin narrowed his eyes, looking at the sky, then the waves, then back at Jaime. "Without the sun, a sailor uses his experience, My Lord. The wind today blows from the Southwest. The waves move to the Northeast. So North is there," he pointed with a calloused hand towards the port bow.
Jaime opened the compass lid. The iron needle inside wobbled wildly for a moment due to the ship's swaying, then stabilized. The tip of the needle painted red pointed... exactly where Colin pointed.
"Precisely," Jaime said with a smile, showing the compass to Kevan and Colin.
Colin's eyes widened when he saw the small needle. He leaned in, staring at it as if the thing could bite. "By the Seven," he muttered. "That little thing knows the wind direction?"
"It knows the direction of North, Captain," Jaime corrected. "Try turning the ship. Make a full circle."
Colin looked at Kevan for confirmation. Kevan gave a curt nod. "Do it."
Captain Colin shouted orders to his crew. The ship began to turn slowly, its hull tilting as it cut through the waves. The scenery around them shifted, blue sea, then the faint silhouette of Casterly Rock in the distance, then sea again.
But that needle... that needle remained still.
When the ship turned East, the needle pointed to the ship's left. When the ship faced South, the needle pointed to the back of the ship. As if there were an invisible rope tying the tip of the needle to the end of the world.
"Impossible," whispered Colin. He was a man who had spent thirty years at sea, who navigated by stars and instinct. Seeing an inanimate object possess a better directional 'instinct' than him was something that shook his world.
"Imagine, Captain," Jaime said, his voice full of spirit yet controlled. He didn't want to sound arrogant. "Imagine a stormy night. Stars covered by thick clouds. No moon. You are in the middle of the open sea, no land visible. How do you know the way home?"
Colin fell silent. His face turned grim. "We pray, My Lord. And we guess. And often... we are wrong."
"With this," Jaime lifted the compass slightly, "you do not need to guess anymore. You can sail in fog, in storms, in total darkness. You can cut a straight path across the ocean."
Uncle Kevan, who had been observing silently, finally spoke up. He took the compass from Jaime's hand, holding it with respect. His sharp and calculating eyes stared at the object, then stared at the horizon.
"This is not a toy," Kevan said softly, more to himself. "This is a weapon." He looked at Jaime, a glint of recognition in his eyes. "Our ships can appear from places the enemy does not expect. We can attack when they are anchored for fear of storms."
"Exactly, Uncle," Jaime replied. "The Ironborn think they are kings of the seas because they do not fear death. But with this, we become kings of the seas because we will not get lost."
Kevan nodded slowly, a thin smile appearing on his face. "Your father must see this. He will be very... impressed."
"I hope so," said Jaime.
The ship continued to sail, cutting through increasingly high waves. Jaime walked to the bow of the ship, leaving Kevan and Colin now involved in a serious discussion about logistics and navigation, with Colin occasionally glancing at the compass in Kevan's hand with a hungry gaze.
Jaime stood there, his hands gripping the wooden railing wet with salty spray. The sea wind hit him, fluttering his golden hair and his cloak. It felt cold, fresh, and liberating.
Here, in the middle of the sea, far from the intrigues of Westeros, far from his Father's judgmental gaze, he felt... alive. He felt like Steven again, but a better version. A version that could make a difference.
He looked at the endless horizon. There, across this ocean, were other places. Essos. Braavos. Valyria. The world was so vast. And he had just given the key to open that world a little wider.
Paper to spread knowledge. Compass to spread men. Even though the latter would not spread that quickly.
"Lord Jaime!" Jon called from behind, his voice having to compete with the wind. His loyal guard looked a little green in the face, holding tightly to the mast. "Can we go home already? I think my stomach does not agree with this 'knowledge'."
Jaime laughed, a free laugh carried by the wind. He looked back, staring at poor Jon.
"Soon, Jon! Enjoy the view!" Jaime exclaimed.
He turned back to stare at the sea. The sun began to descend, reflecting golden light on the surface of the water, turning the ocean into a field of liquid gold. Yes, fields of gold.
...
The next four or five chapters are the final part of Duskendale, we won't see Jaime for a while :'p
Don't forget to give Power Stones, :D, you can also read the chapters earlier at Patreon.com/Daario_W