79 AC. Off the Coast of Volantis
Corlys stood on the deck of his new flagship. The Sea Snake was a true masterpiece of engineering - a first-rate ship of the line whose full complement ranged from three hundred to eight hundred men. In his former world, such vessels were mounted with forty to ninety-eight cannons, but since gunpowder had not yet been invented in Westeros, they were replaced with heavy scorpions enhanced by runic magic. This ship was centuries ahead of its contemporaries, spelling a death sentence for any foe. Furthermore, thanks to runic charms, the vessel's maximum speed had increased from the standard 11 knots to 20, while its cargo capacity had nearly doubled.
The young captain had also handed his grandfather schematics for galleons - large multi-decked sailing ships with heavy weaponry, suited for both trade and war. In a mere ten years, the Velaryon military and merchant fleet had transformed into the most formidable and influential force in all the Narrow Sea.
Corlys had two reasons for this voyage: first, to conclude a lucrative trade agreement with the nobility of Volantis, and second, to set sail for the shores of Valyria to plun... that is, to explore the ruins and, naturally, "return" the remaining treasures to their rightful heirs - which was to say, House Velaryon. Why let such wealth go to waste?
Corlys came to terms with the Volantenes quickly, wringing incredibly favorable conditions out of the greedy local magisters. It took a bit of Legilimency, but who was going to find out? That's right, nobody. No evidence, no crime. Having finished the simple part of his task, Corlys moved on to the difficult one: he needed to travel to Valyria alone without raising suspicion among his crew. The sailors had no trouble believing that a fourteen-year-old youth decided to spend a couple of days in the company of beautiful Volantene women. In this matter, Corlys was covered by his sworn shield, Adam Right, who was unquestionably loyal to the young lord after he healed his wife and daughter. There was no reason to doubt Adam's loyalty to Corlys.
The Ruins of Valyria
Corlys flew up to the shores of Valyria on a broomstick retrieved from his soul vault. Now he understood perfectly well why no one ever returned from here alive: even if you were lucky enough to reach the peninsula, you would inevitably suffocate on toxic gases. It was the poisoned air that made these lands dead, not horrific monsters as many claimed. With the help of magic, Corlys created a filtering mask that trapped toxins and allowed him to breathe clean air.
From above, he spotted a giant skeleton and descended. These were the remains of a dragon that matched Balerion in size, and perhaps even surpassed him. Nearby lay the skeleton of a man wearing armor with a distinctive dark sheen. Examining the armor up close, Corlys confirmed that it was forged from Valyrian steel. Not even the Targaryens possessed a full suit of armor made from this metal, which meant the deceased had belonged to an exceptionally powerful family of the Freehold. Corlys stripped the armor from the remains and sent it into his vault.
It took him a full hour to locate the city itself. A sorrowful sight unfolded before him: charred human skeletons lay everywhere. Corlys felt genuine pity for them. He could easily picture how these people, terrified, had tried to escape the cataclysm, perishing from poisonous fumes or the all-consuming fire of volcanoes.
After an eternity, the city was still impressive in its grand scale and majestic, somber beauty. Most of the buildings lay in ruins, yet to his surprise, the tallest towers, constructed in a uniform style, remained virtually unscathed. Applying his magical sight, Corlys understood what allowed them to retain their grand appearance amid the surrounding ruin: powerful spells still radiated from the stone walls, protecting the structures even two centuries later.
Examining the stonework closely, Corlys realized the Valyrians used runic magic reminiscent of the Celtic school, yet possessing unique differences. Stepping inside, he appreciated the elegance of the decor - it seemed time had left the interiors completely untouched. The lower levels yielded nothing of value, so Corlys climbed higher. On the fourth floor lay an armory filled with swords and spears of high-grade steel. But the most valuable finds, in Corlys's view, were the dragonbone bows - such weapons were impossible to obtain in either Westeros or Essos. Velaryon - young in body, yet wise of soul - swept everything down to the last sword into his vault and pressed onward.
Climbing a few more stories, he came across a gallery. The spacious hall housed numerous works of art: paintings, sculptures, exquisite glassware, and fine ceramics. Smiling at his good fortune, Corlys carefully transferred everything into his vault.
Another hour later, Corlys reached what was evidently the tower master's solar. The room's contents filled him with delight: hundreds, if not thousands, of tomes lined the shelves along the walls. Corlys had always pursued knowledge, and the works of this lost civilization awakened the true Ravenclaw within him. Glancing over the titles, he realized that most of the tomes were dedicated to magic. But what truly made him smirk were the swords hanging behind the master's desk. In Westeros, even a single Valyrian steel blade was considered the pinnacle of prestige and wealth - the royal house possessed only two - yet here, ten hung proudly on the wall! This clearly indicated that the tower's former masters stood head and shoulders above the Targaryens. From documents found in a cabinet, Corlys learned that the citadel had belonged to House Regalion - the third most powerful house in all the Freehold.
There was nothing else notable in the tower except for an underground vault sealed with a magical ward. Armed with the Elder Wand, Corlys dispelled the protection effortlessly, and the sight before him made his breath catch: a mountain of gold that would make even the Lannisters drool, scatters of precious gems, and five full sets of Valyrian steel armor.
It took Corlys two days to methodically clear out the remaining nine towers. Upon exploring them, he acquired unimaginable riches: chests of gold, fine jewelry, paintings, tapestries, exceptionally rare books, and seventy-two more Valyrian steel swords. Yet the main surprise awaited him in the last tower, which had belonged to House Belroy. As it turned out, this family held the secret to forging Valyrian steel. The entire process was detailed in a hefty tome kept inside an enchanted vault alongside two tons of ingots of the precious metal. The technique proved to be immensely complex, demanding deep knowledge of alchemy, but fortunately, Corlys had mastered that art in his past life, studying under Nicolas Flamel himself.
The real jackpot awaited Corlys in the building of the Freehold Bank. Thanks to immensely powerful warding spells, the structure had suffered no damage whatsoever from the cataclysm. Its subterranean vaults were bursting with gold and jewels totaling nearly fifty million gold dragons. Moreover, deep underground lay the private strongboxes of the dragonlords, housing ancient grimoires, Valyrian blades, and even magical staves forged from the same metal.
Until now, only one thing had puzzled Corlys: in all this time, he had not found a single dragon egg - not even a petrified one. The answer to the mystery was discovered at an estate at the foot of a mountain a few kilometers from the city. The manor belonged to House Belaeris, which, judging by the journals found within, was engaged in breeding and training dragons. Compared to them, the Dragonkeepers of King's Landing looked like pathetic amateurs. House Belaeris had refined this vital craft for the Freehold to perfection: from pairing beasts to yield the strongest offspring to the nuances of training. They had developed an entire diet reinforced by magical potions and specialized drills to enhance the dragons' strength and speed. Compared to the Belaeris dragons, the Targaryens' pets seemed like a mere joke - like comparing a stray mongrel to a Stark direwolf. The entire methodology was laid out in detail across stacks of tomes.
Having transferred the works into his vault, Corlys felt a powerful magical pulse emanating from the mountain itself. Approaching the rock face, he encountered a protective barrier whose power surpassed anything he had faced on the peninsula. Concentrating his magic, Corlys breached the defense and stepped beneath the gloomy arches of the cavern.
Unbearable heat reigned inside. Advancing toward the source of magic and casting the Lumos spell, he discovered dozens of incubators covered in chains of runes that maintained the heat and nourished the clutch. Opening one of them and touching an egg, Corlys felt life beating within. It was incredible! The creator of this method was a true genius: even centuries later, the magic had prevented the eggs from petrifying. In total, there were fifty-two incubators in the cavern, and Corlys carefully transferred every single one into his vault.
It took Corlys a full week to comb through the peninsula, but the results exceeded all expectations. The total haul amounted to around eighty million gold dragons in coin and gems, two tons of Valyrian steel ingots, ninety swords, a multitude of daggers, and twelve suits of armor. And that was not counting the priceless tomes, works of art, and viable dragon eggs over which a war would be waged in Westeros. The expedition had yielded him treasures and knowledge capable of rewriting the history of the world. Pondering the great deeds ahead, Corlys Apparated into his chambers in Volantis with a soft pop.