The journey from the grim towers of the Dreadfort to the bustling port of White Harbor was a stark transition. Days of riding through the desolate, forested lands of the North gave way to more cultivated fields, then finally, the salty tang of the sea air. White Harbor, a beacon of trade and prosperity in the often-harsh North, was a vibrant cacophony of shouting merchants, creaking masts, and the cries of gulls. For Maegor, hidden beneath his dyed black hair once more, it was a test of his newly awakened abilities and a crucial step towards Essos.
Upon their arrival, Maegor gathered his small, loyal company in a quiet inn far from the docks, their horses stabled discreetly. "Our goal is a ship," Maegor stated, his voice low but firm, Balerion's familiar weight a comforting presence against his chest. "A merchant cog, nothing too grand, nothing too suspicious. It needs to be quick and unremarkable. Our budget is fifty to sixty Gold Dragons for the vessel itself. We also need a reliable captain and a small crew willing to make the crossing to Braavos."
Ryker, ever the pragmatist, raised an eyebrow. "Fifty Gold Dragons for a decent cog, my lord? That's a tight purse. Most captains worth their salt want more than that just to look at a tide map."
"Then we find a captain who isn't looking for salt," Maegor countered, a hint of the ancient Maegor's ruthless efficiency in his tone. "And perhaps one who appreciates a more… flexible arrangement." He looked at Kaeto. "Ser Kaeto, your experience in the Free Cities will be invaluable here. You know their ways better than any of us. You will oversee the search for the ship and the crew. Look for a vessel that can blend in, one that won't draw undue attention."
Kaeto nodded, his Valyrian eyes thoughtful. "As you command, my lord. The smaller, independent captains often work for less, especially those struggling. They're also less likely to ask too many questions if the coin is good."
"Precisely," Maegor affirmed. "The less attention we draw from the Manderlys and their masters in Winterfell, the better. We are ghosts until we choose to appear."
For the next two days, Kaeto moved through the docks of White Harbor like a shadow, his sellsword experience serving him well. He navigated the labyrinthine wharves, spoke in hushed tones with dockworkers, and haggled with various shipbrokers and captains. Ryker and Gor accompanied him, their intimidating presences warding off potential troublemakers. Lyra and the twins, Kael and Torr, remained with Maegor, maintaining a low profile while discreetly observing their surroundings.
Kaeto returned late on the second evening, his face grim but satisfied. "My lord, I believe I have found our vessel. An old merchant cog named the Sea Serpent. She's not much to look at, slow to load, but she's sound of hull and surprisingly nimble once underway. Her owner, a man named Borin, is looking to sell quickly to cover debts from a failed venture to Lys. He's asking fifty-five Gold Dragons."
"And a captain?" Maegor prompted.
"Borin himself is a capable captain, but he's too well-known here. I found a man named Jorah, a seasoned but desperate sailor. He lost his last ship in a storm and is down on his luck. He's willing to captain the Sea Serpent for a generous sum and recruit a small, loyal crew for the crossing. He'll ask no questions so long as the coin is good and the cargo isn't… overly illegal." Kaeto's slight smirk indicated he'd carefully vetted Jorah's discretion.
"Excellent work, Ser Kaeto," Maegor praised, a genuine flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. The Loyalty he had gained from his knight was proving its worth already. "Secure the Sea Serpent and finalize terms with Jorah. Tell him we are merchants seeking passage to Braavos for a private venture, and we value our privacy above all else."
The negotiations were swift, conducted under the cloak of night. Fifty-five Gold Dragons changed hands, a significant portion of Maegor's remaining funds. The Sea Serpent, a modest, two-masted cog, now belonged to him. Jorah, a grizzled man with a perpetually wary expression, assembled his crew: a stocky first mate, two taciturn deckhands, and a cook who looked like he'd seen more brawls than meals. They were rough, but competent, and more importantly, discreet.
Maegor and his company boarded the Sea Serpent under the cover of a moonless night, their meager belongings quickly stowed. Balerion, now larger and more active, was carefully secured in a ventilated crate, murmuring soft, draconic sounds that only Maegor could truly understand.
As the lines were cast off and the Sea Serpent slowly pulled away from the docks of White Harbor, the familiar hum of the System resonated in Maegor's mind.
[ Mission Complete: Acquire a Ship ]
Objectives Fulfilled:
Travel to White Harbor. (✓)Secure a vessel capable of crossing the Narrow Sea. (✓)
Reward Granted:
System Feature Unlocked: Game of Chance!1 Game of Chance Card granted!
A new icon had appeared on his System interface: a spinning wheel, glowing with a soft, inviting light. Below it, a single, shimmering card. Maegor felt a thrill of anticipation. The Game of Chance. He had no idea what it entailed, but the promise of a unique reward was intoxicating.
He moved to the stern of the ship, watching the lights of White Harbor shrink into the distance. The cold wind whipped his dyed black hair, but beneath it, the silver strands remained, a hidden truth. Balerion stirred in his hidden crate, a warm, living pulse against his side. He had acquired his first knight, his first men, and now, his first ship. The sea stretched before them, dark and vast, leading to Braavos, to Essos, and to the scattered remnants of his family. The Game of Thrones was afoot, but Maegor was playing a different, far older game