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Chapter 220: Braavos
🕑 Added 2025-03-21 13:08:18 +0000 UTC"Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight! Lyi shot down forty-eight pirates—all of them hit through the eye, straight through the skull. Anguy took down eleven—two through the skull, seven through the neck, and two through the chest. Just like the previous rounds, Lyi wins, and this time, it’s an overwhelming victory!"
As the sailors cleared the longship of the dead pirates and tallied the kills based on the arrows embedded in the bodies, cheers erupted across the entire convoy.
Despite the roar of wind and waves, the victorious cries from each ship carried clearly across the fleet.
This was the third time pirates had attacked during the voyage. And just like before, they never even got close to boarding before Lynd and Anguy, the fleet’s two expert marksmen, had taken out the majority. The few who did manage to make it onto the decks were swiftly cut down by the sailors and mercenaries.
Naturally, Lynd and Anguy had become the center of attention. Their archery contest had become a well-known spectacle among the fleet, and their skill inspired admiration from all.
During the first two attacks, the difference between them had been small—Lynd had only outscored Anguy by a couple of kills. But this time, things were different. A raging storm had turned the sea into a churning maelstrom, waves tossing the ships violently, making accurate shots far more difficult.
Anguy struggled under the conditions, managing only eleven kills—a significant drop in his usual accuracy. Meanwhile, Lynd maintained his flawless precision, even improving. Nearly fifty pirates fell to his arrows, each shot striking them through the eye, piercing their skulls clean through.
Many of the sailors began to realize—if someone like Lynd appeared on a battlefield, he would be nothing short of a reaper. Their gazes toward him carried not just admiration, but a trace of reverence.
This convoy had been particularly unlucky. Three separate pirate attacks in one journey, each involving four to five ships and dozens—sometimes over a hundred—raiders. Under normal circumstances, at least one merchant vessel would have been lost by now. But thanks to Lynd and Anguy, all three assaults had been repelled with minimal losses. Only a few sailors had been unlucky enough to be killed; most had escaped with minor injuries. In the grand scheme of things, it was a fortunate outcome.
...
On the seventh day after leaving Pentos, the fleet finally reached the waters outside Braavos. Standing on the deck, the crew and passengers could see the imposing Titan of Braavos rising from the sea in the distance. Even from far away, its sheer presence was overwhelming.
As the ships drew closer, the Titan’s full form became visible.
The enormous stone colossus stood astride the entrance to the lagoon, its feet planted on the steep, rocky islands on either side. Its legs formed a massive gateway through which all ships had to pass. Above, its upper body took the shape of a warrior, holding a short sword aloft in a permanent stance of defiance.
The strait beneath the Titan's feet was the only passage into Braavos, connecting the outer sea to the city's vast inland harbor. Guarding this gateway were fortified bastions and naval docks, home to Braavos' elite garrison and fleet. With such formidable defenses, an invasion by sea was nearly impossible.
Before the rise of the Miracle Fleet, Braavos had been considered the undisputed naval power of the Narrow Sea. But now, that title was in question.
It wasn’t just because the Miracle Fleet had the dragon Cannibal at its command—though that certainly played a role. More importantly, their warships were exceptionally well-crafted, capable of matching or even surpassing Braavos' finest vessels.
News of the Stepstones naval battle had spread across both shores of the Narrow Sea. Braavos, naturally, had paid close attention, gathering all the intelligence they could.
While it was true that the Cannibal had assisted in the battle, its impact on the overall strategy had been limited. Tyrosh’s fleet was already on the verge of collapse, and the dragon’s intervention had only hastened their defeat. The real display of power had come from the Miracle Fleet’s tactics. The Kraken Alliance had worked in flawless coordination, systematically isolating and destroying every pirate ship. Even Braavos' most seasoned admirals had been forced to admit—had they commanded their own fleet in that battle, they doubted they could have done any better.
...
Though the Titan’s strait was wide enough for three or four large merchant ships to pass side by side, the currents here were treacherous. Navigating the passage required a steady hand and expert seamanship—any mistake could see a ship dashed against the rocks or colliding with another vessel.
Fortunately, the captain of Lynd’s ship was an experienced veteran. With practiced ease, he steered through the passage.
The ship behind them, however, was not so lucky.
Swept by the current, it lost control and crashed into an outbound vessel leaving Braavos. Fortunately, the damage was minor—just a dent in the hull. With some quick repairs, the ship would be able to continue its journey.
...
Once inside the lagoon, the convoy weaved past densely built islands, following the outer channel toward the western docks of Braavos. Finally, under the guidance of port officials, they pulled into the crowded quays, mooring behind several other merchant ships.
Now, all that remained was the customs inspection.
Customs officials only inspected the cargo on the ship and showed no interest in the passengers. As soon as the ship docked, a few small local boats approached, offering transport to shore.
Lynd took the remainder of his commission from the ship's owner, then boarded one of the small boats with Anguy, heading toward the nearby Ragman’s Harbor.
The docks were packed with foreign merchant ships, and some vessels, unable to find space to berth, had no choice but to anchor offshore, waiting for an open spot.
Sailors, porters, and repairmen bustled about, but the docks were also filled with thieves and beggars. They prowled for easy marks, approaching under the guise of begging while deftly picking pockets. The clamor of voices—shouting, haggling, and cursing—filled the air, a stark contrast to the peace of the open sea, making newcomers uncomfortable.
Although Lynd and Anguy were foreigners as well, their mercenary attire and the lingering air of bloodshed around them made it clear they were not easy targets. The thieves and beggars instinctively steered clear, leaving them unbothered.
"What’s next?" Anguy asked, patting the coin pouch at his waist. His gaze, however, had already strayed to a few prostitutes sauntering down the street, and he seemed utterly distracted.
Lynd ignored him, surveying his surroundings. It was his first time in Braavos, yet the city felt oddly familiar. It reminded him of a famous water city he had visited in his past life.
"It’s not what we’re doing next—it’s what you’re doing next." Lynd glanced at Anguy, then pulled out a specially minted Chosen Gold Dragon and handed it over. "Find yourself a place to stay. When your money runs out, take this to the Miracle Merchant Guild’s Braavos contact office. They’ll arrange your next steps."
"Miracle Merchant Guild?" Anguy looked stunned, then turned to Lynd in surprise. "You're from Summerhall?"
Lynd gave no answer and simply disappeared into the crowd. Anguy hesitated for a moment, thinking about following him, but ultimately chose otherwise. With a grin, he made his way toward the group of prostitutes.
...
Unlike in Pentos, Lynd didn’t waste time wandering aimlessly to find lodging. Instead, he hired a guide right at the docks to lead him to a more comfortable inn.
"A comfortable inn?" The Braavosi man spoke fluent High Valyrian, his pronunciation even purer than Lynd’s. "How much are you willing to pay?"
As he spoke, the guide eyed Lynd carefully, weighing how much he might be able to afford.
Lynd pulled out the pouch containing his commission, shook it slightly, and said, "This is all I’ve got. I’ll be here for no more than ten days."
The guide took the bag, gave it a quick glance, and swiftly estimated the amount. He plucked out a few copper coins for himself, pocketed them, then handed the rest back to Lynd. Without further delay, he led him through a maze of narrow streets and island bridges, heading north. After a few minutes, they arrived at a circular artificial pond.
The guide pointed at a complex of four three-story buildings near the water. "That’s the Shrimp Head Inn, the best lodging near the docks. From the balconies, you can see the entire harbor. If you’re lucky, you might even witness a ship collision at the docks. That’s more entertaining than any play in the theater."
Lynd glanced at the busy inn and the noisy streets around it. Shaking his head, he said, "I need somewhere quieter. This is too loud."
The guide considered his request, then said, "For a quieter place, you’d want an inn on the Isle of the Gods. But the price—"
"It’s fine," Lynd interrupted. "I still have some savings."
"In that case, follow me."
...
The guide led Lynd through several alleyways until they reached a waterway. He gestured for Lynd to hire a small boat, and they set off, gliding through the city’s intricate canal system. As they passed beneath an arched bridge, the view suddenly opened up—they had entered the Canal of Heroes.
Lining both sides of the canal were towering statues of past Sealords of Braavos. Each one wore a bronze robe and held a different symbolic object. Their solemn expressions and sheer scale exuded an undeniable presence, instilling a sense of reverence in those who passed beneath them.
The boat drifted under several more bridges, each connecting different islands and districts. Finally, they emerged into the central lake surrounding the Isle of the Gods.
The island was dominated by grand religious structures, each unmistakably belonging to a different deity. By their distinct architectural styles, it was easy to identify which temples, shrines, and sanctuaries belonged to which gods.
Sailing close to the shore, the boat skirted the foundation stones of the Red Temple, drifting southward. Passing under the arch bridge before the Moonsinger’s Temple, Lynd caught sight of the shrine of the Weeping Lady, the distant three topless towers of the Three-Headed God, the gates of the House of Black and White, and a multitude of other temples and halls dedicated to deities whose names he did not even recognize.
Then, beyond the unfamiliar temples, Lynd spotted a familiar sigil adorning the rooftop of a grand hall—the Seven-Pointed Star, the emblem of the Faith of the Seven.
Despite being far from Westeros, the Faith of the Seven remained one of the dominant religions in Braavos. Its followers here were no less devout than those of the Moonsingers.
Looking east from the island where the Sept of the Seven stood, one could see the large green dome of the Palace of Truth, the second most magnificent building in Braavos, surpassed only by the Sealord's Palace.
As the boat passed the island of the Sept, a temple on a nearby island caught Lynd’s eye, filling him with surprise.
This temple was nearly the same size as the Sept of the Seven, and judging by the relative newness of its construction materials, it had likely been built within the past few years. What truly astonished Lynd, however, was the sacred emblem atop the temple—it was a variant of his own family crest, adapted into the emblem of the Storm God by his followers.
Ever since he had displayed the power of the Storm Dragon runes in Lannisport, faith in the Storm God had begun spreading rapidly across the coastal towns and ports of Westeros, especially in those places that had suffered at the hands of the Ironborn. Some had even gone so far as to construct temples and erect statues in the Storm God's honor.
Due to the lack of a unified doctrine, the statues of the Storm God varied in form and appearance. The only consistent feature among them was that every depiction of the Storm God wielded two greatswords.
Lynd had always taken a hands-off approach toward the spread of this faith. Publicly, he only acknowledged himself as the Chosen of the Seven and had never claimed any connection to the Storm God. Yet, he also had never opposed those who worshiped it, nor had he interfered when temples were built in places like Miracle Harbor or the Stepstones.
Still, he had never expected that in Braavos—a city so far removed from Westeros—faith in the Storm God would be so widespread. The sheer grandeur of the temple, along with the dense crowds crossing the arched bridge leading to it, made it clear that the faith had taken strong root here.
“Why do so many people here believe in the Storm God?” Lynd asked the guide, unable to suppress his curiosity.
“Of course, to bless their ships for safe voyages,” the guide answered, gazing at the temple while making a religious gesture with his hand. “The Storm God ensures safe passage through the fiercest tempests. Naturally, many choose to believe.”
Lynd feigned skepticism. “And does faith in the Storm God actually work?”
The guide frowned, his expression displeased. He reached for his neck and pulled out a medallion—a Storm God's emblem—dangling from a leather cord. “A year ago, the ship I was on was caught in a violent storm and wrecked. There were sixty-seven people aboard. Only seven survived. All seven of us were followers of the Storm God, and I was one of them. Stories of the Storm God protecting his faithful from disaster are countless. Otherwise, why do you think the believers pooled their money to purchase this island and build a temple in his honor?” He added with no small measure of pride, “I even contributed to its construction.”
As he spoke, the boat reached the dock. The boatman laid a wooden ladder against the stone pier, gesturing for Lynd and the guide to climb ashore. Once they had disembarked, he pulled the ladder back, turned the boat, and rowed away.
Once on land, the guide led Lynd to a small square near the bridge that connected to the Storm God's temple. From there, he directed him into the lobby of an inn beside the square.
“This is the Night Song Inn,” the guide said. “It should suit your needs—quiet and comfortable.”
Lynd took in the surroundings, nodded in approval, and then informed the guide that he wanted to hire him for several days to explore Braavos. He instructed him to meet him here the next morning.
The guide, eager for the work, readily agreed—without even asking for a deposit.
