Volantis was never quiet.Even at dawn, when the river mist clung to the docks and the air reeked of salt, sweat, and fish, the city roared with life.
Dockhands shouted orders across the piers. Merchants bargained and cursed in half a dozen tongues. Slaves in iron collars hauled crates under the lash of their masters.The hammering of shipwrights rang through the humid air, mingling with the perfume of spice and smoke from caravans that had come from far to the east.
The city's pulse was gold and blood — it beat for profit, not gods.But still, at the harbor's center, a Red Priest raised his torch to the gray sky.
"The Lord of Light watches! The fire sees all!" he cried."Only flame can cleanse the darkness that devours the world!"
A merchant passing by tossed him a copper. "Here's a coin to buy a quieter throat."
The priest caught it, smiling. "Even mockery feeds the flame!"
Dockhands laughed. A few spat. Volantis had always believed more in gold than salvation.
Near the waterline, two workers leaned against barrels of olive oil, wiping sweat from their brows.
Maro, broad-shouldered and forever half-scowling, cracked his knuckles. "These traders get fatter every year. Half coin, half arrogance."
His friend Tollis, wiry and always half amused, snorted. "Coin keeps them fat. Arrogance keeps us employed."
Maro eyed him. "You always this clever before breakfast?"
"Only when I'm sober."
"Then the gods have abandoned us."
They laughed, their voices blending into the endless hum of labor, greed, and prayer.
Tollis nodded toward the Red Priest's sermon. "You think those fire-mad fools are right about the end of the world?"
Maro grunted. "If the world ends, it'll be because someone dropped a crate of wildfire in the wrong place."
"Good," Tollis said. "Then I'll die drunk, not holy."
Maro smirked. "Beer or brothel tonight?"
"That's the problem," Tollis mused. "My heart says ale, but my cock disagrees."
"Your cock doesn't have coin."
"I can borrow from it."
"You'd have better luck borrowing from the Seven."
Their laughter echoed over the docks — until Maro stopped. His grin faded.
"Wait…" he muttered. "You see that?"
Tollis turned. Through the mist, something moved across the waves — a black silhouette gliding silently toward the harbor.
A ship. Small, aged, utterly still.No sail, no flag, no oars.
Just drifting.
"By the Mother's tits," Tollis whispered. "It's moving without wind."
The dock quieted. One by one, voices died.The Red Priest's flame flickered. Slaves froze mid-lift. Guards turned their heads. Even the gulls overhead seemed to hold their breath.
The ship drew closer.
And atop its mast stood a man.
Tall. Cloaked in black. Motionless.
"Tell me I'm drunk," Tollis breathed.
"I'd have to be drunk to believe it," Maro whispered back.
The ship glided to the pier as though carried by unseen hands. The air thickened — heavy, expectant.
Then, with a groan like a sigh, the bow dipped. The ship began to sink.
Not violently. Slowly. Deliberately.
The man atop the mast did not move.
He simply watched as the vessel lowered itself into the sea, inch by inch — until only the mast remained.
Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward — boots touching the dock just as the water swallowed the last of the ship.
The crowd stood frozen.
A Red Priest gasped. "A sign! R'hllor's hand upon the waters!"
Maro muttered, "If that's R'hllor, I'm swearing to the Stranger."
But the stranger — the man in black — merely stood.Water dripped from his cloak, pooling quietly around his boots.
He raised his head slightly, enough for the hood's shadow to shift.
And then a voice — soft, feminine, and unseen — murmured in his mind.
They're staring again.
His lips curved faintly. "That's the idea."
You enjoy this far too much.
"Only because you can't."
I could if you'd let them see me.
"And cause a panic on the first day?" he said under his breath, amusement in his tone. "Patience, little flame. The world isn't ready to meet you yet."
Hmph. I hate being invisible. Feels like I don't exist.
He tilted his head, eyes still on the water. "If you didn't exist, the waves wouldn't whisper your name."
Flattery won't save you when I learn to fly high enough to drop you.
"Then I'll look forward to the fall."
You're impossible.
"I try."
Down below, whispers spread through the crowd.
"No sail…""No wind…""He walked off the water…"
And then came the shout.
"YOU THERE!"
The Dockmaster — round, red-faced, and furious — shoved through the crowd, clutching his ledger like a weapon. "You can't just sink your ship in my harbor! Are you mad?!"
The man turned slightly. His voice, when it came, was low and even.
"Consider it a donation."
The Dockmaster blinked. "A… donation?!"
Without a word, the stranger flicked three gold dragons through the air. The coins spun, caught the sunlight, and landed neatly in the Dockmaster's open hand.
He stared. Then forced a grin. "Ah… a generous donation, then."
The man turned to leave.
"Wait!" the Dockmaster called, fumbling with his quill. "For the registry — what name shall I write?"
The stranger paused. The crowd leaned forward.
He looked over his shoulder.
"Kaine."
The single word rolled through the silence like thunder.
And then he was gone — walking into the city as the sea swallowed the last ripples of his vanished ship.
Behind him, murmurs rose again.
"Kaine?""A Valyrian name, maybe?""No — something else. He didn't move like a man."
They'll talk about this for weeks, Vaerynna whispered in his thoughts, her tone a mix of pride and amusement.
"That's the point," he murmured. "Stories spread faster than truth."
You sound like a schemer.
"I'm worse."
Then what now, curious one?
He smiled faintly, slipping deeper into the labyrinth of Volantis. "Let's find an inn. Somewhere quiet. With walls that don't ask questions."
Why are we here?
His smile lingered — a glint of something dangerous behind his calm. "Two things."
Two?
"The first," he said softly, "is to find a few… companions."
And the second?
He paused, his tone lowering until it was barely a whisper — more felt than heard.
"To make sure the Red Temple remembers… who has come to this world."
You mean—
"Later," he said, cutting her thought short. "For now, food."
You always ruin the dramatic moments.
"That's what makes them mine."
The dock came alive again behind them — shouts, disbelief, and a Red Priest now proclaiming the arrival of a divine herald.
As Kaine vanished into the streets, Vaerynna's unseen form moved beside him, her presence flickering faintly like heat in the air.
"Welcome to civilization, little flame," he murmured.
It smells terrible.
He smiled. "Then you'll fit right in."