89 AC. Driftmark
Corlys sat at the desk in Grandfather Daemon's solar, reading through reports that grew more numerous with every passing year. At twenty-four, he was a handsome, well-built young man whose gaze had more than once brought a blush to the cheeks of young maidens and married ladies alike. He had always taken his physical conditioning and martial training seriously, and he had become a formidable warrior with whom even the knights of the Kingsguard would not wish to cross blades.
The enterprises he had begun building with his grandfather ten years earlier had, thanks to careful planning, long since paid for themselves many times over and continued to grow. The city beyond his window had surpassed even the boldest expectations. Under his stewardship, Driftmark had become a center of trade, with merchant ships carrying goods to and from every corner of the known world. The family's merchant fleet numbered more than a thousand ships and was the largest in the world, while a war fleet of four hundred vessels secured Velaryon dominance over the Narrow Sea and beyond. His builders and architects had expanded both the port and the city. Exclusive gambling houses, taverns, inns, property dealings, glassmaking, and many other ventures brought in millions of gold dragons, which in turn helped extend the house's influence.
The order of assassins he had founded under Aguilar's command had become a highly effective instrument for eliminating enemies and gathering intelligence. In recent years, the order had even managed to establish itself in Essos and open branches there. It recruited homeless children, trained them from a young age, and turned them into deadly weapons. It was better than starving to death in the streets.
Over the past ten years, Driftmark and Spicetown had developed at an astonishing pace. The castle itself covered an area of 300,000 square meters, while another 800,000 square meters were given over to gardens tended daily by gardeners, to stables for a thousand horses with a riding yard, and to granaries stocked with provisions in case of siege.
The castle was surrounded by a mighty curtain wall 35 meters high and 5 meters thick. Both the castle and its walls were built of white stone inscribed with runes to strengthen it. The city was protected by a wall 50 meters high and 10 meters thick, but what truly made it impregnable were the tall towers and great ballistae lining the entire length of the wall.
The castle's inner yard had been enlarged and paved with granite, lending it even greater polish and beauty. The most mysterious place within the castle grounds was a tall structure of snow-white granite. Its construction was not yet finished, and no one but the family knew its purpose. Beneath it, enormous tunnels ran hundreds of meters deep into the earth. One day, this would be home to the dragons of House Velaryon.
The castle had more than eight hundred rooms, each one exquisitely furnished. Marble everywhere, tapestries, and paintings by renowned masters brought from Essos and Valyria filled the castle with a mysterious air of wealth and luxury.
Corlys had been studying his family's history. The roots of House Velaryon reached back to Old Valyria, and the house was even older than House Targaryen. Unlike the royal family, the Velaryons had never been dragonriders, but that had now changed. Corlys wanted his descendants to know their forebears not only from books and stories. So he ordered a crypt built deep beneath the castle, its entrance housed in a handsome building adorned with the symbols of his house. Statues of the lords who had ruled over the course of a thousand years already stood in the crypt, their likenesses preserved in the family's chronicles and books. Velaryon funeral customs differed from those of the Targaryens, who burned their dead. The Velaryons laid the deceased on a ship with a holed hull, set it alight, and sent it out to sink beneath the sea. Corlys intended to add to this tradition: a lock of the deceased's hair would be cut and interred in the family crypt. He believed that this way the living could better honor their ancestors, remember them, and never forget their roots.
With a population of three hundred thousand, Spicetown was a truly beautiful city. Every district and street had been built of concrete reinforced with steel beams, which made its buildings remarkably well made. The city was divided into quarters: in some lived the townsfolk, while in others craftsmen worked, manufactories ran, and various institutions were housed. The port had been expanded as well, and it now rivaled that of Braavos, which made it the finest in Westeros.
* * *
His business concluded, Corlys descended a spiral staircase to a part of the castle that no one but he could access. Making his way through tunnels lit by blue flame, he came to a great door. He laid his palm on it, waited for the familiar click, and went in. No one but he and his future descendants could see this door, and not even a dragon could open it. Corlys had made sure of that by placing every manner of spell and ward upon the chamber.
Inside awaited a sight that would have stunned anyone. Here he kept all the treasures he had found in Valyria, along with the books he had brought from his previous world. Here, far from prying eyes, he honed his magic and studied Valyrian tomes. After spending a full two hours in the vault and finishing yet another book, he decided to return to the castle.
Climbing up to the family wing, he went to visit his mother. Her chambers were in an uproar: the still-beautiful Alice Velaryon was cooing over two little troublemakers, her grandsons and Corlys's nephews.
"Mother, I see you're busy as ever catering to the whims of these little rascals," he announced cheerfully.
"Oh, Corlys, don't say that. They're so sweet, and they look so much like you boys did as children," she said, turning the children toward him. "Corwyn, Aurane, say hello to Uncle Corlys."
Seeing their uncle, the little bundles of joy immediately reached out their arms to him. Ah, she's a cunning one. She knows my weakness, Corlys thought. And Corlys's only weakness was his family.
He stayed with his mother a long while, playing with his nephews as she watched them with a smile.
"If people knew the fearsome Sea Snake turned so soft around children, your reputation would be in ruins," Alice teased.
"That's hardly going to happen. After all, you won't tell anyone," her son replied.
"And when do you plan to marry, Corlys? I so want to hold your children in my arms," she said, starting the same conversation for the hundredth time.
"Please don't start about grandchildren again, Mother. You already have two, and I'm sure my brothers won't stop there," Corlys told the newly minted grandmother.
"I'm only thinking of you, my son."
"I know." He went to his mother and embraced her. After Father's death, she had devoted herself entirely to her sons, and he could not blame her for wanting to see them happy. "I'll think about it."
"Do you promise?" she asked hopefully.
"I promise," he answered after a moment's pause. "But for now, I'm afraid I must leave you."
Understanding what he meant, Alice lowered her voice. "Are you going to visit the dragons?"
"You know they can't stay away from me for long," Corlys replied with a smile.
And with those words, he left.