A.C 275
Lucerys – POV:
The day I had been waiting for had finally arrived.
Tywin had decided to take both Cersei and Jaime with him to King's Landing. Of course, I was not going—first, because I was not his son, and second, because I was only five years old.
My father, Kevan, had been appointed as Lord of Casterly Rock, while the cunning lion continued his role as Hand to the Mad King.
Since Tywin is not here… it seems it's time I start my own projects.
Hehehe, thought Lucerys, a mischievous grin forming on his face.
My first step will be gathering a small team of loyal followers… and I already know exactly how to do it.
Third-Person POV:
The streets of Lannisport were noisy as ever, crowded with people and chaos. The city was known for its strict order and harshness; it was ruled by law and gold, and there was no place for mercy.
In the heart of the city, in a dark alley, a man was being beaten by a group of thugs.
"When will you pay the debt you owe us, Holn?" one of them sneered.
Holn said nothing. He glared at them with a burning rage, as if he wanted to tear them apart.
"Listen, Holn. We don't want your gold anymore… we want your precious daughter."
The leader, a man with a deep scar over his left eye, chuckled cruelly.
"She will be my personal whore."
"Touch a single hair on my daughter, you vile fool, or—"
Holn growled with pure hatred.
"Or what?" the thug leader asked, feigning fear.
With a wave of his hand, he commanded, "Kill him, throw his body into the sea, and then fetch his daughter."
"No…!" Holn barely managed to cry out, despair lacing his voice.
Suddenly, a calm, confident voice interrupted.
"What do we have here? A group of petty criminals carrying out filth in broad daylight?"
They turned, and there stood a small boy, unmoving and fearless, with a majestic knight by his side.
"And who are you?" the leader asked, his voice trembling.
One of his followers whispered in fear, "Sir… emerald eyes, blond hair… it must be a Lannister."
The boy grinned with amusement.
"Looks like I've been recognized."
He looked down at the man on the ground.
"What's your name, man?"
"H–Holn, my lord," he stammered.
"Very well, Holn. It seems you are in a dangerous position."
He paused, then continued.
"I'll make you an offer."
Step by step, his voice carried authority despite his youth:
"Be my loyal follower. Any order I give, you will obey without hesitation. If I tell you to cut off your hand, you do it. If I command you to die, you die in obedience."
Holn's eyes widened.
"I will, young lord… I pledge my loyalty and my life to you."
Lucerys turned to the knight quietly.
"Bard… kill them all. I want no witnesses."
"Yes, young lord."
The knight obeyed instantly.
Minutes later, after screams and pleas faded, the alley was empty.
The three assailants had fled toward the nearest tavern.
"Holn, you are the first follower I've recruited," Lucerys said.
"You may wonder why I help you, though you are neither trained nor educated. I'll be honest: I am gathering a group to train. They will be loyal only to me, hearing my orders above all, even the king's. Do you understand?"
"I understand, young lord."
He hesitated, then asked, "But… what will happen to my daughter if I come with you?"
"Do not worry," Lucerys said calmly.
"She will be taken care of and given a position in the castle as a maid. She will be safe, and you may see her from time to time."
Holn breathed a sigh of relief.
"Holn is at your service, young lord."
He bowed awkwardly.
Lucerys regarded him coolly.
"Perhaps you should practice that bow as well," he added.
Days passed in Lannisport as if nothing had happened.
Lucerys managed to recruit four more followers: Eric, Laura, Holly, and Malric.
Laura and Holly were sisters living with their drunken father, who had tried to sell them to a brothel.
Eric was a broken sailor; his family had drowned at sea.
Malric was a former mercenary, with a wife and children to support.
"You are now my followers," Lucerys said with quiet authority.
"Though I do not yet have the power to knight you, I will do so in time."
He continued, "Bard will oversee your training, and he will not be merciful. Holn, you are my first follower and the oldest among you, so you will be the leader."
Time passed quickly. Two years went by since the recruitment.
Under Bard's strict training, the team had improved greatly.
Lucerys, however, did not remain idle.
He began writing small books on the essential inventions he needed:
Scented soap, replacing the coarse soap monopolized by the nobles.
Pure white paper, instead of the expensive, rare parchment.
Special recipes, including his own version of whiskey.
He stored these books in absolute secrecy.
No one knew of their existence… except for him.
A small, anticipatory smile crossed his face as he muttered:
"It won't be long before my name is known throughout all of Westeros…
no, the entire world."