Chapter 6

Early 99 AC, Dragonstone

"Land ahoy!" one of the crew cried rousing Aegon from his tome that narrated the events of the Century of Blood. Eldric stretched out at the same time as Aegon stood up. He looked towards the island, the great Dragonmont looming in the distance.

He glanced at Bartimos' sleeping form and he walked towards Bartimos and kicked him in the shin, jolting him up.

"We're here." Aegon said with a slight grin, one that Eldric shared though he admirably tried to hide it.

Bartimos groaned "Did you have to kick me awake?" he said with a glare.

"Yes." Aegon said simply before he began to walk towards his stored items behind them. The quarter deck was barely able to hold more than a few people and most of the crew slept on the deck either against the hull, the floor or in their rowing position.

As the island of Dragonstone neared, Aegon closed his eyes, trying to grip on the bond he felt with Mīsaragorn. The bond was always there…at the back of his mind.

He'd experimented with it a lot, to see the extent of the bond and one of the surprising things – and most useful – part of the bond is that it kind of also acted like a beacon… Mīsaragorn could find him if he made it clear through his bond about where he was.

He wasn't sure if it needed Mīsaragorn to want to find him as well though. Still, it would more than good enough, especially it was what was going to make him taking Mīsaragorn with him possible.

It wasn't long before a silhouette of a dragon grew in the distance and a roar soared through the air and Aegon smiled, his eyes shining in delight. 'Missed you too buddy' he tried to communicate through his bond.

Soon enough they circled around the island of Dragonstone and made their way towards the main port nearby the Dragonstone fort, Mīsaragorn flying in circles above.

Aegon glanced at his companions "Will you depart immediately?"

"Yes." Bartimos confirmed. "My father will want to speak with me before we need to get back to Kings Landing in less than a week when the Prince and Princesses arrive."

Eldric piped up "The same for me, my Prince."

Aegon nodded "Very well. I will likely see you both there then."

Bartimos slapped Aegon's shoulder, eying intently as he did so "It doesn't have to stop our adventures, my Prince. Marrying Gael."

Aegon glanced at Bartimos before he looked away. Bartimos – and Eldric – knew of his plans to want to sail across the known seas.

It was how they and a few others bonded. Talks of visiting every port in Essos all the way to Qarth, to Morag, to Yi Ti. "Aye." Aegon said with a small smile that felt hollower than he let on.

"I'm sure it'll work out."

The familiar scent of sulphur and brimstone assaulted his nose and Aegon felt satisfaction at it. Most would hate the island…especially compared to the lands and castles he'd visited. It was dreary, it was cold and it was windy.

It was a dreadful place in comparison to High Garden or to Casterly Rock but it was the closest to home he imagined he'd find here.

There was something about it that he felt like he belonged…more than he ever did in Kings Landing. The castellan was waiting at the dock with a few guards – he'd been given advance notice from Storm's End.

He saw that there was significant work being done on the harbour, work that looked in excess of what he had thought he could do with the coin available to him.

There were more men too…men that looked very Andal with few Valyrian features.

It looked like the capacity of the number of ships that could dock was being increased. The building he'd had built was left untouched but on the other side of the port, where the most of the work was being done had a similarly tall building cropping up.

Curious…

He'd get the castellan to answer his questions later today.

 They departed the ship as they docked at one of the available spots and a few of the crew made their way towards the taverns – and likely whorehouses – that were here in the port.

Aegon greeted a few of the workmen at the port who looked happy to see him before the castellan spoke up. "My Prince" the castellan said "I have had the servants draw a bath and a meal."

"Thank you Tristan. I will shortly make my way towards the castle." Aegon told the castellan. The castellan spied a look towards Mīsaragorn who was descending down towards a steady place not far from port.

"Yes, my Prince." The castellan looked at the guards who nodded their understanding before bowing to Aegon and leaving, heading back towards the castle.

He said his goodbyes to his companions and made his way towards Mīsaragorn who landed not far from the port.

It seems like he has grown, he thought as he approached the dragon. Not greatly but enough for it to be noticeable. Aegon gestured towards the guards to wait as he continued his approach to his dragon.

Mīsaragorn growled softly as he brought down his snout, his large green eyes focusing intently on Aegon and Aegon's hand went towards it « I know…I know. I've been gone too long, haven't I? » he said softly as he patted the large animal's snout.

Mīsaragorn snout pushed against his hand and his snout almost barged into his chest « Alright, alright, I get it! » Aegon defended as the growls grew a little heavier

« It wasn't my choice, you know this »

Mīsaragorn green eyes were unblinking, as if to say 'You could have asked me to come'. Aegon winced slightly. He could have but he'd thought that it was not the kind of attention he needed…nor the shift of perception people had of him.

More than a few times conversations with Lords had been tentatively probing – about what he thought about this or that or if he knew who he was to marry – and even the lady women were far from innocent.

He wanted to appear as non-political as possible, just as a 'gallant and charming' third Prince who stood to inherit little and having Mīsaragorn appear…

« I promise not to leave you alone for too long. » Aegon said as he touched Mīsaragorn's snout with both hands, trying to soothe the annoyed dragon.

The dragon huffed, sending his hair into a mess and Aegon looked at Mīsaragorn with an exasperated but amused look « Now can we fly? » Aegon asked Mīsaragorn who only raised his snout and leaned his back towards him causing Aegon to smile widely.

A few hours later, a bath had and a meal eaten, he spoke briefly with the castellan.

The past year or so had been busy, the castellan had said and his father had come on Vhagar for half a moon. After bluntly asking, the castellan confirmed that his father had looked at the main port and had ordered it to be improved much to Aegon's surprise.

The port was being upgraded to effectively become a Royal dockyard capable of hosting the Royal Fleet if needed and capable of building or repairing ships.

He'd frowned internally at that. 'What were they playing at?' he wondered to himself. He knew that his father and grandfather knew about his improvements at the main port but he didn't think they'd take this much interest.

In truth, it was about time something was done at Dragonstone. For a seat of the Heir of the Iron Throne, Dragonstone was quite pitiful and underdeveloped.

There was little reason why Dragonstone couldn't become a fairly sized town with bustling trade. Given its location at the mouth of Blackwater Bay, it could serve as a pit stop for trade en-route to Kings Landing.

It would swallow some of trade away from Driftmark, to be sure, and it would also provide a solid source of income for Crown Princes – and more cynically manpower.

The people of Dragonstone were extremely loyal to House Targaryen. They pride themselves on their Valyrian heritage and the men from their families, their ancestors, who were the first to set on Westeros during the Conquest.

The work that was being done would be celebrated as farmers and fishermen could supplement their income, especially given that it would likely be a little while longer before the job would be finished given the extensiveness of what was being done.

He was under no illusion it was being done for him.

He'd never inherit Dragonstone. Was there further friction with the Velaryons? The Royal Fleet being stationed at Dragonstone –at least in part – was quite the change.

The castellan knew little else and his questioning of the maester only confirmed what the castellan had said though he did part with a bit more information.

In any case, he asked the maester to send word to Kings Landing that he would arrive in three days.

He made his way towards the small village nearby the main port. There were two ports at Dragonstone, the one he disembarked and the port that he'd been improving which was near the village at the more habitable part of the island.

He walked through the village and the townspeople greeted him happily which he returned easily enough. It was really understated how happy it made people by simply knowing their names.

Most of the villagers were of Valyrian heritage and though he wouldn't be surprised if some of them were descendants of 'dragonseeds' – the abominable practice of first night was practiced pretty much as soon as his ancestors arrived on Dragonstone – but quite a few of the folk he'd spoken to had claimed that they were descendants of the household servants and retainers – and slaves – of the then Targaryen dragonlords.

In the distance, he saw a few men on horses approach and the street parted to let the men through. There were four of them, all wearing worn armour, and all bore Valyrian features bar one.

"My Prince." Ser Galeanys said with a bent knee after he got off the horse, the others following suit

There were two knightly Houses on Dragonstone, House Qargaris and Calneareon.

Both Houses were founded during Aegon the Conqueror's reign, House Qargaris by a bastard of House Qoherys, the recently extinct Valyrian House whilst House Calnaereon had founded by a Valyrian hedge knight during the Conquest.

Both held small amount of land and most of it was not farmable. They were barely Landed Knightly Houses. Both Houses had not stood against Maegor and whilst they had supported Jaehaerys, they had not been 'rewarded' with lands on the mainland.

Still, they were fairly important to Dragonstone as they were retainers to the Prince of Dragonstone and more often than not they worked with the Castellan to keep the small garrison of about five hundred men fit and trained.

Ser Galeanys of House Qargaris was amongst the first that Aegon had managed to tie closer to him and not long after, the others followed.

None of them were exceptional fighters, he imagined he'd be able to beat them now, if not in a few years when he was stronger, but they were good men that were dependable. To a degree.

"Ser Galaenys" Aegon greeted before greeting the others and he motioned him and the others to rise and he looked the man in the eye. "Walk with me." Aegon signalled the guards to follow outside of hearing distance.

A fair distance from eavesdropping as they made their way the other side of the village, towards the smaller wharf that functioned as a secondary port for the fishermen, he spoke up again "So the Royal Fleet is expected to dock at Dragonstone now?"

"Aye, my Prince." Ser Galaenys confirmed, understanding clear in his eyes "Your royal father was impressed with the work we've done so far – on your orders. He wanted to expand on it and had men come in to plan the improvements before more men came and set the commonfolk to task."

Aegon hummed for a moment "I see." He didn't ask if Galaenys knew anything in particular. He eyed the man "So my father also knows about the other thing."

Ser Galaeyns winced before he nodded, a little bashful "I-" Aegon raised his hand.

"I understand. My father is the Crown Prince. To lie or hide it from him would have been stupid." Ser Galaenys nodded in relief.

"Prince Baelon did come and have a look." Ser Galaeyns said and Aegon looked at the man with an expectant look and the man continued "He said it was fine for us to continue." The man said and Aegon looked away from the man.

"Anyone else?" Aegon questioned and the man shook his head.

"No one else, my Prince. The builders know to let me know if someone who doesn't belong takes a look. It hasn't happened." The man said and after a long look Aegon nodded.

"Good. It's about time I take a look on our progress." Aegon said. They approached the main port and went towards his building.

It wasn't long before they were noticed and a few of the men were coming their way.

"My Prince" the man – Mikah, one of the sailors he had trained and worked for him – said with a kneel, the other two following in his step and Aegon motioned them to stand.

"Mikah. Dannis Brenn. You look well." Aegon said with a smile.

"Aye, m'Prince." The one known as Dannis said. "Dunnah know 'ow since m'wife's been a beast lately" he said with a chuckle and he earned himself an elbow in the ribs.

"T'Prince doesn't want 't know 'bout your seven damned wife." Mikah said with a glare.

Aegon's face broke with a light grin "Ah, I wouldn't be so sure Mikah. Dannis does have good stories about the wife. The story about pan and the fish never fails to make me laugh" which gotten the men to relax and laugh a little.

It wasn't long before he was in the building, staring down at the sight before him.

"Good. You've removed the outer planks and the decks." Aegon said approvingly.

"Aye, m'Prince" Mikah said happily "T'was fairly easy. Much 'arder to get it 'ere in a'piece" Mikah admitted. Aegon hummed understandingly.

He'd been here for that part. It took several hundred men to get the ship where was now. He began to walk around the length of the stripped ship, his hand roving on the carved wood.

It was a stripped down carrack, its outer layers of planks removed, the cross section of the wood that gave the shape of the outer hull on full display.

Carracks were made with high freeboard – height above the water – and didn't need oars on both sides.

He'd gotten Corlys to part with an old and worn carrack after his suggested trade with the North was hugely successful when his regular trading to Yi Ti returned with rice left over from their journey. It had taken some time to convince Corlys but once he explained the value of rice to the Northerners, he had practically seen a shine in the man's eyes that reminded him of a certain duck particularly fond of swimming in gold coins.

The next time they went to Yi Ti, they came back stocked with the stuff and after the Manderlys were convinced of the benefits – not that it was hard to see – they'd taken the entire stock when they fully comprehended the sheer value rice had in winter.

Aegon thought that the Manderlys were likely going to go to Yi Ti themselves in the near future. After all it was steady income from a food source that no one other than the Northerners would buy

He wondered how drastic the changes it would yield to the timeline.

The rice wouldn't be consumed by the lordly Houses – unless of course they were under siege – and was mostly intended for the common folk during lean winters but even a stable source of food that could last years was bound to make changes.

After all, most of the significant changes that happened over time in his world had been when food security was practically assured. The North had an implacable enemy in winter, one that they knew intimately and bitterly, and it was the reason why they were the sparsest populated region.

The North was notoriously stable, politically speaking, and infighting was rare in comparison to the constant battles that happened amongst the Southern Kingdoms.

Partly because of winter of course.

In any case, with the rice, he imagined there might well be a sharp population climb – more than there already was with the secured trade with the Riverlands and the Reach – and that meant they would also likely have more men for war.

The North could call upon somewhere between 25,000 to 40,000 men, much less than the Southern Kingdoms could call upon. Dorne surprisingly could call up close to 50,000 historically which was confusing given that during the time of Robert's Rebellion, he was sure they only gave something like 10,000 or 20,000 men to Rhaegar.

Even if you considered that Doran might have kept a significant portion of his men back in caution which probably had been wise in hindsight given that it meant they weren't completely spent which was likely the reason why Arryn had gone to 'placate' Dorne – 'You have sincerest condolences for your brutally raped to death sister and your headless nephew who had his infant head cracked open like an egg. Oh and we're also of course sorry for the death of your niece who is has been almost slashed in half by a hundred stabs' he grimaced at the thought – it was quite likely that Dorne could only realistically call up to 40,000 during Robert's Rebellion.

In any case, he was fascinated to see how much change more food would yield the North in the decades to come. He returned his attentions to the Carrack, his thoughts whirring as he looked at the frame with critical eyes.

He wasn't sure when exactly the development of cannons happened – he suspected sometime around the 14th or 15th century around the time of greater trade to Asia and war with the dangerous Ottomans – but he was quite sure that a ship like this with two decks probably would have had cannons fitted along their sides.

He wondered if Valyria's dominance and the consequences of its dominance was the reason why such ships existed but never developed cannons.

Corlys hadn't mentioned anything that resembled gunpowder when he subtly questioned the man about the kinds of things he'd seen, likely because he hadn't gone beyond the harbours of the cities he'd visited, so he wasn't sure if they had the precursors to gunpowder yet.

Given that they were the literal approximation of China, he suspected they did.

Chances were cannons were conceived but were strangled in the crib. He could see Valyria brutally scorching and then salting any nation that developed weaponry that could potentially bring down their dragons.

He could see the later and more powerful cannons capable of ripping through dragons. Dragons would be able to remain out of range, of course, but it could also neutralise their effectiveness in a significant way. Of course, manoeuvrability and speed would make Dragons very hard to hit but in a fleet with cannons installed?

Well, that would level the playing field, especially if the numbers of dragons were small.

Of course, it could also be that just maybe it wasn't the Valyrians at all but rather the Dothraki that interfered. This world shared many similarities in development and cultures as his own world had and practically had the same kind of route the Silk Road once upon a time had but unfortunately, the Dothraki were far from the more intelligent Mongols.

The Dothraki likely existed during Valyria's dominance but as nothing more than a mild annoyance, quiet and subdued under the gaze of the dragons but still causing havoc like the barbarians that they were.

And when the Doom happened…well, any chance of land trade happening was summarily strangled at the cradle so any chances of the Silk Road happening died.

It had been the Persians and then later the Ottomans who brought the idea of gunpowder – or whatever it was called when they used combustive shells against the Byzantines – at which point it was developed further by people in Europe.

With the Dothraki limiting trade through land through the Essarian Sea – he didn't want to validate the piss poor facsimile of steppe tribes by naming the grasslands after them – and murdering their way through several civilisations like the Sarnorians, they made cross pollination of ideas between East and West harder if not impossible through land.

Of course, he was almost of the opinion there was some divine pressures being applied to force this world to be stagnant – Gods trapped in trees, 'Lord of Light' (more likely a devil finding it funny to masquerade as something light whilst casually having people burnt) and whatever else existed in this messed up world – but there were several other reasons that were partially responsible for a world stuck in whatever this was for thousands of years.

He blinked. He got off track.

Anyway…

Carracks were bulging ships, with almost castle like quarter decks fore and aft. They tended to have two decks with two masts with the mainmast and the foremast being rigged with square sails.

For the next few hours, he spent a lot of time noting down all of his observations with an obsessive zeal.

He wanted to make the hull longer, quite a bit longer. He remembered Ship of the Lines and how they were somewhat wider but he hadn't been sure to what extent.

He knew it had to do with balance and performance – particularly because of cannons and their weight distribution – but wasn't quite sure how it all fitted.

The wooden frames were connected to the keel – like ribs to sternum – which gave the ship its shape. The frames of carracks were much less slender than that of galleys, more L-shaped, and he could already see that his new design would likely follow suit on that shape.

The longer the ship, the wider you had to make it to prevent it from becoming fragile and have poor nautical qualities. He'd have to figure out – along with figuring out the ideal number of layers, inner skin, to reinforce the inner hull – what the widths of the frames should be to figure out the best distribution of weight whilst also limiting the weight itself given that the ship would only carry provisions and men.

The frames would dictate how many decks the ship would have and he'd also have to figure out if there was anything different to carracks in terms of stabilisation. Carracks had more of the hull underwater in comparison to long ships or galleys which had shallower drafts allowing them to move more swiftly as they pretty much glided on the surface of the waters.

He'd also have to figure out the fitting of the ship, how long the masts should be, the number and surface areas of sails, the rigging. He'd have to see if current way of fitting masts would be alright.

He sighed internally as he closed his journal, his eyes gazing at the stripped carrack. The positive was that without artillery, there wasn't a huge need for huge sails as a significant percentage of the weight wouldn't be there – no cannons – but it would also make it a lot faster.

Most ships used rectangular shaped sails and he hardly saw any with triangular shaped sails which he knew would catch the wind at an angle and could be angled to catch the wind to manoeuvre the ship.

After a quick word with the men, he left and made his way back towards Dragonstone followed by his guards, a persistent frown on his face as he was deep in thought. He knew that to build the kind of ships he had in mind would be something that would take probably a good part of a decade if not longer.

Not to mention he needed more experience on deck. He needed to know rigs and sails like the back of his hand. The kind of ships he was thinking of were not easy.

How it all fitted together…the contingencies…

And he couldn't just have Braavos or Driftmark or elsewhere build the designs. It would be the height of foolishness to do that.

He needed a place of his own, he needed shipbuilders of his own. He needed sailmakers, he needed foundry workers, he needed craftsmen.

He wouldn't be able to train people up, he wouldn't even know how to. No, he needed experienced people.

They would have the knowhow, the knacks, the little things he wouldn't know and only they knew as a result of things handed down through generations.

 The good thing was that he knew how to get these shipbuilders.

The slavers in Slaver's Bay did build ships. Not many, not large ones but enough. Lys and Volantis did the same though the shipbuilders were freemen.

He didn't doubt he could poach them however.

He came to a stop, his eyes shining with adventure and drive.

Maybe afterwards he could be the one to sail West and actually return.

That is, of course, there wasn't a Cthulhu esque super-monster lurking in the depths of the sea. He gently banished the imagery away from his mind though not without an internal shudder.

After his travels – funded by the sale of the compass and the sextant to Braavos – he would work towards being the man who circumnavigated the world. He'd sail West and he'd sail South, past Sothoryos if there was a place past the continent.

A frown reappeared on his face as he began walking. To do all of this after his travels however…

He needed a place of his own.

He couldn't rely on being granted a lordship by his family…not after what he'd do.

It wouldn't surprise him if he was exiled. They would be stupid to – for a number of reasons – but it wouldn't surprise me.

The high possibility of exile also left him with little options to make a home.

To live freely in a slaving city like what most of Essos was…or take root in Braavos – a place founded by slaves running away from dragonlords with face-changing assassins for neighbours…

He shook his head.

He had a number of years left before he needed that answered.

And…

In the back of his mind, he knew Viserys would welcome him back with open arms.

It was the early morning the next day that he was awakened by one of his guards "My Lord. Princess Gael has arrived."

Aegon stilled, his mind clear of any haze. "I see. I will be out briefly." He said with a nod to the guard and he closed the door.

Aegon grimaced and draped his hand across his face. He hoped he wouldn't see her until he arrived at Kings Landing.

Honestly…

He had no idea what to do in this situation…it was almost comical how messed up this was. And he wondered if this was his mistake.

He grimaced even more. It definitely was his fault for being so…friendly.

He should have given her the cold shoulder. He closed his eyes.

No…he didn't regret growing close to her. She was a wonderful person and he valued her the most. She just was…born to the wrong family.

He was born to the wrong family.

He reopened his eyes…his heart hardening as his jaw was set.

He would betray everything he was by giving in and neither of them deserved that. Gael would be fine, he knew it in his bones. He knew that it also meant that their closeness would come to an end – he ignored the pang of regret in chest with violent vigour – but it was something he could live with.

After all…the alternative was not a line he could or would cross.