The Wavebreaker was a Braavosi trading galley with distinctive purple sails.
Her captain was Victar, a true son of Braavos.
He had made his living on the Narrow Sea for fully thirty years.
According to Victar himself, he started as an oarsman, worked his way up to first mate, and finally earned enough to buy his own ship, the Wavebreaker.
Years of sailing between Braavos, Pentos, White Harbor, Gulltown, and King's Landing had made him intimately familiar with the Narrow Sea's tides, winds, and currents, as well as the trade goods demanded by each port.
Just one more run back to Braavos, and Victar would have enough coin saved to buy a second ship.
He had already chosen the name: the Windrider.
However, just as he was preparing to finish loading and catch the currents south to Gulltown in the Vale, his ship was detained by the Fat Lord of House Manderly.
He was held up for a whole week, and forced to keep his best cabin empty.
This afternoon, the wind and currents were perfect for departure. Victar straddled the high mast, feeling the wind and watching the waves.
He made up his mind: if the Merman Lord didn't let him leave today, he would sneak out tonight under cover of darkness. If that meant he couldn't do business in White Harbor again, so be it.
"Father, that fat merman you always curse is coming," his second son, Vickon, shouted up from the deck in the Common Tongue of Westeros. "They brought a lot of people."
Despite nearing fifty, Victar was still agile. He slid down a rope from the mast, landing in front of his son, and gave the boy a sharp rap on the head.
"If you can't speak politely, don't speak at all. Go to the hold and fetch a cask of ale… no, bring a cask of the sweet plum wine."
Vickon rubbed his head, pouting as he muttered something under his breath and went below decks.
"Honorable Ser Wendel Manderly." Victar's wrinkled face crinkled into a wide smile as he welcomed the boarding party.
"Have you brought your esteemed guest? I have prepared some sweet plum wine, bought right here in your city. I fell in love with it the first time I tasted it."
"You are always so courteous." Ser Wendel patted Victar on the shoulder with a slightly greasy hand and pressed three gold dragons into his palm.
"Make sure this handsome lad gets to King's Landing safely. Next time you come to White Harbor, we'll give you a discount on the docking fees."
Victar ordered his son to open the cask while his sailors helped stow the guest's luggage and horse. "And how should I address you?"
"Arthur Snow."
After a polite drink, Arthur learned the ship would sail that afternoon. He bid farewell to the enthusiastic Ser Wendel and went to his cabin to rest.
In his room, he sketched a rough map, planning his route from King's Landing to Starfall.
After much thought, Arthur decided that once he reached the capital, he would take the Kingsroad south, switch to the Roseroad to Horn Hill, and then follow the Honeywine river south before cutting across to Starfall.
Stopping at Horn Hill might give him a chance to see Samwell Tarly, Jon's future brother of the Night's Watch.
Once at Starfall, Arthur planned to pay his respects to his mother, Ashara, and introduce himself to his kin.
If the family reunion went well, he might ask for a piece of land to cultivate. The Red Mountains had plenty of wasteland, and he could gain experience fighting the mountain clans.
He also wanted to see if he could… acquire… the ancestral greatsword of House Dayne, Dawn.
Unlike other ancestral swords, Dawn wasn't inherited by the lord of the house, but granted to the knight most worthy of wielding it.
Arthur estimated his chances of getting it were slim to none. He wasn't a Dayne, nor was he a knight.
If the reunion didn't go well, Arthur planned to cross the Narrow Sea to Essos and tour the Free Cities.
Traveling the Free Cities would offer opportunities to unlock Tactic Cards, build his own faction, and hone his skills in swordplay, riding, swimming, and sailing.
Arthur swore to himself that his desire to visit the Free Cities had absolutely nothing to do with the descriptions in the Lysene captain's travelogue—passages about the courtesans of Braavos, the seven sighs of Lys, or the pleasure gardens of Tyrosh. Absolutely not.
Knock, knock, knock—
Just as Arthur was planning his future, a knock came at the door.
"Some refreshments. I hope you like them." Captain Victar entered carrying a plate of biscuits and fruit.
"Forgive me for asking, but are you Lysene? Ser Wendel seems to hold you in high regard."
"I am Westerosi. Not everyone with violet eyes has Lysene or Valyrian blood," Arthur said, setting down his quill. "My uncle is the Warden of the North, House Manderly's liege lord."
"We depart immediately." Upon learning Arthur's connection, Victar placed the fruit plate down with even greater care and reported the itinerary respectfully.
"On the way to King's Landing, we will stop at Gulltown in the Vale to resupply. The Vale is rich in produce; the fruits and vegetables there are enormous."
"It looks like it's getting dark," Arthur said, looking out the wooden porthole at the dimming sky. The sound of whistling wind was audible. "And the wind is picking up."
"She's called the Wavebreaker for a reason. She fears no storm," Victar thumped his chest confidently.
"I've sailed the Narrow Sea for thirty years. I know the water and the currents like the back of my hand. I could navigate these waters without a lighthouse."
"If you say so, I'm reassured." Arthur picked up a plum from the plate and took a bite.
---
As the Wavebreaker sailed out of the harbor under the cover of night, Arthur experienced his first sea voyage.
Old Captain Victar hadn't lied; the Wavebreaker indeed handled the waves well. And he indeed didn't need a lighthouse to navigate.
The pity was, sailing at night, Victar did follow a lighthouse.
The greater pity was that the Wavebreaker failed to break the reef.
Arthur was jolted awake by a violent impact. Outside, voices shouted in various languages—"Reef!", "Taking on water!"—urgent and panicked.
He grabbed his swords from the bedside and the [Dragonbone Bow] from the wall.
Arthur dumped the copper pennies from his purse. After a second's thought, he gritted his teeth and dumped the silver stags too, keeping only twenty gold dragons.
Amidst the chaos, he threw on his cloak, grabbed his pack with the ring, dagger, and handkerchief, and finally touched the mermaid pendant around his neck.
"The ship is lost! Grab what's valuable and abandon the rest!" Captain Victar's desperate voice rang out. "Head for the front! There's a small islet!"
Hearing this, Arthur struggled internally but abandoned the idea of going to the flooding hold to save Shadow.
However, when he reached the deck, he was stunned to see Shadow already past the struggling swimmers, reaching the islet first.
[Shadow]: Excellent +1 Mount. Gentle temperament. Possesses exceptional endurance and load-bearing capacity. Increased speed when fleeing.
Wait, does "increased speed when fleeing" mean fleeing faster than ME?
Does "Excellent +1" mean distance from me +1?
I thought you were Shadow, not Dilu (the Cursed Horse)!
I haven't even started running yet! How are you already on shore? I feed you the good grain every day, and I was actually sad about leaving you behind just now. You heartless nag.
Muttering curses in his heart, Arthur gauged the distance and leaped from the deck into the dark water.
The sea was freezing, especially at night. The cold shocked him, making him shiver violently, but fortunately, the islet was close.
Guided by the light of the distant lighthouse, Arthur followed the others and swam to the rocks.
"Where is this?" Arthur asked Victar, dripping wet.
Shadow, having already shaken himself dry, trotted over nonchalantly and nudged Arthur's shoulder with his head.
It felt like he was asking: Did you see how fast I ran? Am I awesome or what?
"These are the Three Sisters," Victar said, sitting slumped on a rock, watching the Wavebreaker slowly sink.
"Their lighthouse and beacon fire misled me. They lured my ship onto the rocks. Those damned pirates."
"What do we do now?" Arthur ignored Shadow. Surrounded by pitch-black sea and biting wind, his wet clothes clung to him like ice. He sneezed and hurriedly wrung out his cloak.
"At this hour, in this place, no one comes but them. We wait for the pirates," Victar said, his face grim and eyes holding a trace of despair.
"We can only hope that whatever they salvage from the ship satisfies them."
"And then what?" Arthur watched the sailors using a small boat they'd managed to launch, rowing back and forth between the sinking ship and the rocks to salvage cargo. Victar just sat and watched.
"What happens to us?"
"I only pray I can return to Braavos. I signed an insurance contract before I left."
Victar stood up, his sturdy frame looking suddenly hunched. "As for you… I no longer have the ability to serve you."
Insurance contracts. Arthur knew of them. It was essentially a betting contract common in the Free Cities like Braavos and Volantis.
If a ship was lost in a storm or taken by pirates, the insurer paid the full value of the ship and cargo.
But signing a contract was one thing; collecting was another.
Few captains who lost their ships at sea lived to return home.
They didn't have to wait long. Over a dozen longboats rowed out of the darkness. After Victar negotiated with them, Arthur and the survivors were taken, along with the salvaged goods, to Sisterton on Sweetsister.
Sisterton was a vile, ugly town that reeked of pig shit and rotting fish.
For hundreds of years, the Three Sisters had been a smuggler's paradise, and before that, a pirate's den.
The streets of Sisterton were planks from shipwrecks laid over mud. The houses were wattle-and-daub shacks with thatched roofs.
And its gallows gate always displayed corpses with their bellies slit open and their entrails hanging out.
Victar paid almost all the salvaged cargo as a ferry fee. The moment they hit the reef, he knew the goods no longer belonged to him.
"I only ask for safe passage to leave, to take my sons back to Braavos," Victar pleaded desperately with the captain of the guard.
"That depends on whether the cargo in your hold is enough," the captain replied coldly. "We are happy to help you salvage the wreck."
"I demand to see your lord." Arthur pulled the silver-inlaid direwolf dagger Robb had given him from his tunic.
"I am the nephew of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He will pay my ransom."
The captain didn't speak immediately. He took the dagger, examined it, then handed it back. His tone softened slightly.
"Ransom? Snow, we never took you prisoner. It is late. Tomorrow I will inform my Lord. You will be treated well."
Arthur was given a separate room in a relatively clean inn and a set of dry clothes.
He was safe. For now.