[Chapter Size: 3500 Words.]
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Thrid Person POV
Yi-Ti, 296 AC.
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The day, Yin awoke to the sound of a hammer striking an anvil in a fe in a er of the city. People were beginning to prepare for their day ao work, but even before that, someone was already hammering away at the anvil. The Arti king himself was not alone; a curious crowd had gathered to watch.
Since Jon had requested a fe the day before, prior to returning to the ship with the city lord, he had received instrus and an address from Lord Kin'emon himself. At the break of dawn, he wasted no time. He left the ship apanied by his guards, exging only a few words with his still-sleepy wives, and headed out to the address he had been given—the home of a bcksmith.
The man weled him respectfully as soon as they arrived, though he found it peculiar that a stranger who called himself a monarch would want to work in a fe on his own. Still, he refrained from asking further questions; after all, that was the other party's .
The small men apanying Jon looked around, enting in a nguage the bcksmith did not uand about the fe's structure. Though some remarks seemed less than favorable, he could seheir enthusiasm to see their king in a at the fe.
Jon wasted no more time. After discussing his workspace with the bcksmith and studying the fe—which was somewhat different from the traditional style but still served the same purpose and process—he stepped forward. Stripping off his shirt without any additional prote, he begaing the fe while some men unloaded crates from the ship.
He began unpag the first items as the fmes roared, preparing molds of his own design—different from those the local bcksmith used but simir to those for crafting armor. Jon had created these during the journey, allowing him to craft smaller items. Soon, a new metal emerged from the crates in the form of swords and armor ptes, stunning the old bcksmith. The man watched, intrigued by the unique gleam of the material.
"This is... impossible!" he murmured in disbelief, reizing the value of the metal.
"Don't be surprised. lenty of it, and I io make a few things," Jon replied, before returning his focus to the fe.
He begaing the metals, pg them in the furo melt under extreme heat. The process was lengthy. For hours, the metal was heated until it became liquid, while Janized everything—even pulling out his special hammer, crafted from Valyrian steel with ruched into it.
The bcksmith of Yin observed, marveling at the wealth such material represented. Watg swords and disassembled armor ptes beied down, he was at a loss for words. To Jon, however, those swords and armor held little value; he wao reshape them into something truly useful.
After reag the ideal temperature, Jon poured the molten steel into the molds, filling each piece acc to his designs. Sweat trickled from his brow as he removed stray spshes of molteal with his bare hands, leaving the bcksmith speechless. Jon worked tirelessly, hammering each piece after allowing it to cool slightly, even as they glowed red-hot.
The bcksmith and the dwarves who had e to watch were awestruck. Witnessing the master bcksmith of Artica at work was a rare spectacle. Jon, who had surpassed even Thor—his f mentor i years—was crafting the world's most preetal with unparalleled skill before their very eyes.
Everyoched in admiration as Jon hahe fire naturally, unbothered by tact with the fmes. The bcksmith asked tless questions, but the nguage barrier made unication difficult. Even so, the guards tried to answer as best they could.
Finally, the first piece was plete. Jo aside and immediately began w on the one. Piece by piece, he tinued molding, impressing everyoh his dedication. None of them realized they had spent the entire day in the fe without eating, while Jon seemed unfazed, still fully focused on his goal.
"My king, night will soon fall. Perhaps it's best to return a," suggested one of the royal guards, approag Jon but not too closely due to the heat radiating through the area. Unlike most bcksmiths, Jon didn't have to worry about it, as he was immuo fire.
Jon, still focused on the fe, was reheating the metal. He carefully poured the molten steel with precision before finally looking at the guard who had spoken. Shaking his head, he made it clear he was unwilling to stop.
"No, I io finish this armor by tomorrow. I won't leave until it's done. Go back to the ship and bring other men to switch shifts," Jon anded.
The guards hesitated for a moment but ultimately obeyed their king. Jouro the bcksmith from Yin who owhe fe.
"I'll be hammering at the anvil all night. I hope I won't invenienaster bcksmith," Jon said to the man, wharded him with a certain admiration for his skill. He had never seen anything like it. Jon had spent the entire day crafting a plete suit of armor without stopping and showed no signs of fatigue, even intending to work through the night.
"No, you may work freely. My family and I won't disturb you," the bcksmith replied, snapping out of his trand accepting the situation. Jon nodded in thanks and refocused oasks in the fe.
The royal guards began their shift ge, heading back as instructed, but the dwarves refused to leave. They wao watch Jon at work. After all, it wasn't every day one could witness Artica's greatest bcksmith f a unique masterpiece. For the dwarves, it ure artistry.
When the new guards arrived to find their king still w as night fell, they too were astonished. heless, they assumed their protective positions. One guard reported that Jon's family was worried about him, but he dismissed their .
"I already said I'll finish what I started. There's o worry, and tomorrow I'll be with my family," Jon stated firmly.
Night fell in Yin, but the light of the fe tio burn on that side of the city. The sound of hammering echoed through the early hours as Jon worked tirelessly, piece by piece. Finally, at dawn, every po he needed was pleted, exactly as he had envisioned. He added unique features to each armor pte—details that only a master bcksmith of his level could achieve. He inscribed runes into the armor ptes, which glowed faintly oal's surface as he imbued them with magic.
When he finished, Jon separated the pieces, examining them with satisfa before quickly assembling them. The result was a full suit of samurai armor made entirely from Valyrian steel, adorned with magical runes. He had repced the old armor he'd found in Valyria with a new creatier and tailored perfectly to his size—after all, he was taller than the knight who had previously worn it. Jon's expertise in crafting armor was evident in the fwless execution of this final product, made from the magical steel of the a dragonlords.
What everyohere witnessed was unparalleled: the first fully fed Valyrian steel armor in the world sihe fall of Valyria. While Jon po craft another suit for use in the West, he decided to incorporate elements of Yi-Ti culture into this one, finding the idea intriguing. Perhaps this would be the first in a grand colle of unique armors from different cultures that Jon inteo dispy alongside various swords in his halls in Artica.
Jon sighed, pleased with the oute. He gazed at the pleted armor while those around him kept their eyes fixed on the masterpiece, admiring and even coveting it.
"This is a work of art!" the dwarves excimed, g enthusiastically.
Jon merely smiled. With nothio do there, and the day already half over, he decided it was time to leave after 36 hours of uninterrupted bor. "Let's return to the ship," he said, before turning back to the bcksmith.
"Thank you for lending me your fe. Here is the appropriate payment for the use of your services," Jon said, handing the bcksmith a very generous sack of gold.
The man accepted the gold, visibly pleased with the generous amount, far more than he expected, but also with a look of admiration—and envy—for the armor. He khat a piece like that could even win the Shogun's favor.
Thus, the Artis made their way back to the ship, transp the armor through the streets in a well-guarded cart, covered with cloth to shield it fr eyes.
"You really o spend aire day f armor without resting?" Ygritte asked as soon as they returo the ship, transferring the armor onboard. She approached Jon with a slightly disapproving look.
"Don't question such things, my wife. I have my own ways of finishing what I start," Jon replied calmly.
Ygritte didn't press the matter. While she didn't fully uand the reason for such dedication, she respected her husband.
"Yuards said you did anything. You must be hungry. We did either while waiting for you, Johought you'd e back before noon," Rhaenys said, approag with her son and the dragons. They headed to the kit to eat after that, while the armor was taken to Jon's quarters.
" I see your armor, Jon?" Arya quickly asked as he sat down. The armor had yet to be unveiled.
"Of course. You visit it in my quarters," Jon replied, and Arya nodded excitedly, even leaving her food to go see it. Jon didn't mind.
"Ygritte, how are the ministers progressing with studying the loguage?" Jon asked, turning to his wife, who hadn't yet looked into the matter. He sensed a faint disfort from Rhaenys nearby at the mention of this and raised an eyebrow at her, uanding almost immediately.
"I uand yer if it's because he's a Lannister," Jon tinued, addressing his sister. "But he doesn't seem like someone we should kill just because of his family. I don't see the usual arrogan him, and I don't recall the Lannisters—at least not him—itting any crimes, unlike his brother."
It was that Rhaenys harbored intered for those who destroyed her family. Jon could uand how Gerion Lannister's presence aboard the ship uled her. That hatred had been nurtured over years, fueled by her mother's family and stant reminders of the misfortuhe Lannisters had inflicted oargaryens. Even Jon's mother had not escaped Rhaenys's rese, though Jon would not tolerate such feelings toward her.
When Rhaenys learned of the Lannister aboard the ship, she had nearly asked Jon to keep him away—or even to kill him—but had mao restrain her anger. She focused on her son instead, attempting to suppress the urge for vengeahat sometimes surfaced. Growing up in Dorne, surrounded by talk of avenging her family, had made such thoughts almost habitual for her.
In the end, Rhaenys sighed and admitted, "Jon, I apologize for this." She sounded sad, realizing it wasn't healthy to hold onto so much rese. She didn't want her son to remember her as a bitter mother.
"Even so, the man seems rather downcast, as if he's afraid of being with us," Wind interjected this time.
"What do you mean by that?" Jon asked.
"She means he already knows what happened—what you all did in his family's nds," Wind expined. "He seems a bit terrified at the sight ons and disc there's a Targaryen on the ship."
"Well, I uand that," Jon replied calmly.
"Jon, isn't that dangerous?" Rhaenys couldn't help but ask.
"Not after hearing that he has no iion of leaving... but I'll also look into why that is," Jon said finally. He resumed eating while they shifted to lighter topics of versation.
Meanwhile, Gerion was iy, assisting the ministers in learning and developing the loguage. He was introdug Arti s to the locals, much like Kin'emon had doh Jon two days earlier. Royal guards apanied him, but his enthusiasm had noticeably wahough he knew he would earn a lot of money helping the group, he was shakehey began reting tales of their journeys.
Little by little, Gerion learned about the events involving his family. He was horrified to hear how his nephew, James, had been captured by the Artis and treated like a dog while a prisoner. He found out that Jon and his group had taken the boy to an important Lannisport stronghold, using him to demand cessions from his older brother. When Tywin attempted a terattack as they returo their fleet, he suffered the humiliation of having several of his ships destroyed.
Gerion was left speechless upon hearing about the fate or Clegane, known as the Mountain: castrated, tongueless, and with one arm rendered useless. He had never imagined such a thing could happen to someone like Gregor, the greatest war dog of his family and his brother's most fearsome enforcer. And it had beei King himself who had dohis, treating Gregor like an animal.
Gerion stayed silent for most of the time, digesting this information. A sed wave of shock hit him when the miold him about an attack by King Robert Baratheon with his fleet. Robert had unched a massive assault as the Artis returo their homend, only to suffer a crushi. All his ships were destroyed. The Arti fleet, numbering just 200 ships, had annihited the entire naval force of Westeros. Now, acc to reports from the samurai who had sent scouts, the Arti fleet was eveotaling over 450 vessels.
Gerion also learned about the existence ons when he saw a white-haired, purple-eyed woman strolling on the fgship. It was evident she was a Targaryen. He knew all too well what his family had doo the Targaryens before Robert seized the throne. Now, he was surrounded by them.
There was another woman with her, though darker-haired but bearing the same purple eyes and Targaryeures. Their gazes made him unfortable. The first woman dispyed distrust and perhaps suppressed ahe sed, however, radiated pure hatred, as if she wao kill him on the spot. Gerion ughed nervously, trying to mask his fear.
He ter learhat this woman was the daughter of Elia of House Targaryen—possibly the rightful heir to the Iron Throne—now married to the Arti King, with whom she shared a son and dragons.
He could only hope that the King of Artica wasn't as cruel as the stories suggested. If he were, Gerion feared Jon might kill him just for being a Lannister, much like his brother Tywin would have done if their positions were reversed.
So far, Jon had shown no ination to harm him. On the trary, he had even requested his services.
Gerion finally returned home after a day spent avoiding the ships. While bidding farewell to the Artis, he noticed Jon keeping an eye on him. Jon had started iigating him, seeking to determine if Gerion was truly trustworthy, though he already sehe man was different from his infamous brother.
Through a discreet iigation involving animals, Jon uncovered something ued: this Lannister had formed a family in Yi-Ti. He had two children, one four years old and the other two, with a local erhaps this was the real reason Gerion hadn't returo Westeros. Jon nodded in satisfa at the discovery.
Ohird day, Geriouro the ship to tieag the ministers. That was when he saw Jon for the first time in two days.
"Gerion Lannister," Jon remarked, crossing the ship's deck. Gerion nodded, gng at him and the Arti guards apanying Jon with notable caution.
"I heard you were f armor on your own. That's unusual," Gerion ented carefully, trying to ease the tensio he couldn't help but be impressed by how this young man—barely 18 years old—might be wealthier than Tywin, had already caused such chaos, anded giants and an immense fleet, and even performed manual berion still struggled to prehend it all.
"It's true. Depending on the Shogun's respoo this Empire, I'll decide whether or not I use it here," Jon said calmly. He po wear the armor when traveling to the capital, assuming all went well.
"I see. Surely the Shogun will be impressed by the extraordinary young man that you are," Gerion ented, still cautiously Joe his ughter, Gerion maintained a serious tone, and it was clear the Lannister was growing increasingly nervous.
"Tell me something, Gerion Lannister," Jon began suddenly, looking directly at him. "I'm curious. Do you not pn to return to Westeros?" he asked seriously.
There were certain things Jon couldn't allow to leave this pce. He o ensure Gerion wouldn't carry information about the dragons or the Targaryens traveling with him.
Gerion took a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. "I don't io leave here, although, holy, I like the idea of returning someday," he admitted. "But I have a daughter. Her name is Joy. She's the result of a union with a on woma's just say my older brother didn't approve of it, and she was born with the name Hill."
"I see... a bastard..." Jon murmured, uanding all too well the kind of life this girl must have. "And why did you leave her behind in search of your sword?" Jon raised an eyebrow, already aware that the man ursuing the Lannisters' aral bde. Johe story. A Lannister, head of the house at the time—whose name Jon couldn't recall—had set out for Valyria in search of treasures, disappearing along with the on a long time ago.
"In exge for the sword, my older brother promised to petition the king to remove my daughter's bastard status and make her a Lanhat's why I came here. Then... some things happened, and I ended up staying. With other ued events, I found myself starting my own family here, free from the pressures of the Lannisters," Gerion expined.
"And your daughter?" Jon asked, arg an eyebrow.
"She should be here with me, along with our family, but I still 't do anything about it," Gerion replied with a tone nation and sadness. He genuinely wanted Joy Hill with him here, far from her bastard status, where they could live happily. But he couldn't simply return or leave his current life, especially given the high risk of death in attempting to reach Westeros.
"I uand. It must be hard to be away from your daughter," Jon remarked, thinking about his own daughter, Lyanna, who was ba Artica. After months of travel, he too felt the pain of being away from her as a father, uo share important moments in her life. Yet he knew he was here for a better future for her and his other child.
"Thank you for your words, King of Artica," Gerion said in the end, sincerely.
"It's no problem. Please tinue. I'll be seeing Lord Kin'emon this m. I'll be leaving now," Jon said, while Gerio on his way to tieag the ministers.
Meanwhile, Jouro the city lord's mansion with his family once again. The ship's food supplies had already been ed by the popution, and now the city was restocked. The threat of food shes had passed, and the people seemed happier. It was time for Jon to collect his gold and resolve a few more matters while awaiting the Shogun's response from the capital.
The letter sent by Kin'emon's family via carrier pigeon, carrying the important message to the capital, flew over forests and rice fields. However, midway through its journey, an arrow struck the pigeon, pierg it mid-air. It fell lifeless to the ground.
It didn't take long for riders to gallop to the se. A few dismounted, collected the letter and the pigeon's body to eliminate evidence, and quickly rode east. Upon opening the correspondehey found intriguing information about a new group that had arrived in Yin. They kept the letter and vanished into the horizon to rey the o their leaders.
Meanwhile, the samurai assigo personally deliver the message tinued his jouro the capital. He was the tingen in case the pigeon was intercepted, though he had no idea it had already happened. He pressed on, riding days and nights along the roads on his horse.
After a week of arduous travel, he finally arrived at the capital, carrying with him the message that could ge many things within the empire.
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