Chapter 13: The Shadow Fleet's First Keel and the Whispers of the Wider World
The silencing of Silas Quayne, "The Listener," had bought Viserys a measure of breathing room, a temporary lull in the relentless pressure of Braavosi intrigue. But Alistair Finch, the historian within, knew that power vacuums rarely remained empty for long, and that a predator, even one wounded and wary, might simply bide its time. Viserys, the boy who was rapidly becoming a master of shadows, used this fragile peace not for rest, but for relentless advancement. The acquisition of their small warehouse near Ragman's Harbor had been a crucial step in consolidating his operations; now, his sights were set on a far more ambitious prize: a ship.
A vessel of his own would transform their circumstances. It would be more than just a means of escape, should Braavos become too dangerous; it would be a tool for generating independent wealth, a platform for gathering intelligence from across the Narrow Sea and beyond, and the first tangible assertion of his will upon the wider world. It would be, he mused with a touch of grim irony, the first keel laid for his shadow fleet.
Ferrego Antaryon, still riding high on the profits generated by the "advisor's" uncanny strategies, proved an invaluable, if unwitting, instrument. When Joss Hood, following Viserys's carefully scripted instructions, conveyed the advisor's interest in acquiring a "discreet, swift, and sturdy vessel for certain independent trade ventures," Ferrego had been intrigued rather than suspicious. Such a move, he reasoned, was a logical step for a financial mind of such caliber. It also, conveniently for Ferrego, promised further opportunities for lucrative collaboration.
After several weeks of discreet inquiries through his family's extensive maritime contacts, Ferrego reported success. A Pentoshi trading cog, the Star of Valyria, had recently become available. Her owner, a minor merchant prince, had met an untimely and somewhat suspicious end during a visit to the Disputed Lands, and his heirs, squabbling and inept, were eager for a quick sale to settle his numerous debts. The ship was reportedly swift, with a shallower draft than most cogs of her size – ideal for navigating treacherous coastlines and smaller, less policed harbors. More importantly, she was currently dry-docked in a quiet shipyard on the city's western fringe, away from the main bustle of the Chequy Port or the Arsenal, allowing for a discreet inspection.
Viserys, his interest piqued, knew he had to see the vessel himself. He couldn't rely solely on Ferrego's description or Joss's well-meaning but untutored assessment. One moonless night, accompanied by a silent Morrec, Viserys made his way to the designated shipyard. Dressed in dark, inconspicuous clothing, his silver hair hidden beneath a snug woollen cap, he moved with the fluid grace of a shadow. His enhanced senses cut through the darkness; he heard the gentle lapping of water against a hundred hulls, the creak of mooring ropes, the distant, drunken singing of a night watchman. Morrec, a hulking silhouette, covered their approach, his eyes scanning every alley and rooftop.
The Star of Valyria lay tethered in a secluded slip. Even in the gloom, Viserys could appreciate her lines. She was sleeker than most cogs, her hull painted a dark, unassuming grey, though patches of newer timber indicated recent, perhaps hasty, repairs. He scaled the mooring rope with silent agility, his small, calloused hands finding purchase where others would have slipped. Morrec remained below, a silent sentinel.
Once aboard, Viserys became Alistair Finch, the meticulous analyst. He ran his hands over the timbers, his touch surprisingly sensitive, feeling for rot or weakness. His keen hearing picked up the tell-tale scuttling of ship rats, a normal affliction, but he also listened for the subtle groans of stressed wood, the whisper of water in the bilge. He explored the hold, the cramped crew quarters, the captain's cabin. The ship was well-used, bearing the scars of numerous voyages, but her core structure felt sound. Her rigging, though currently slack, seemed to be of good quality. He noted the layout, the potential for hidden compartments, the clear lines of sight from the quarterdeck.
His super-soldier enhanced strength allowed him to test fittings and hatches with a subtle force that would have been impossible for an ordinary boy his age. He found a section of the keel that had been recently replaced – good Qohorik timber, expertly joined. He even, with a surge of carefully controlled power, managed to shift a heavy ballast stone, checking the timbers beneath. He was satisfied. The ship was a risk, certainly, but a calculated one. She had potential.
The acquisition was a masterpiece of indirect negotiation and layered anonymity. Viserys provided Joss with the funds – a significant portion of their gem hoard converted back into Braavosi honors through discreet channels – and a detailed script. Joss, acting as the representative of a "wealthy but reclusive patron from Tyrosh seeking to diversify his investments," negotiated the purchase through a series_of cutouts Ferrego had (at Joss's subtle suggestion) recommended. The final bill of sale bore a fictitious Tyroshi name Viserys had invented, complete with a plausible, if unverifiable, backstory. The Star of Valyria was theirs, or rather, his. He immediately had her name unofficially, but firmly, changed. In his mind, and in the secret ledgers he kept, she was now the Nyx, a nod to the Greek goddess of night that Alistair Finch would have appreciated.
The next phase was refitting. This, too, was conducted with utmost secrecy. Viserys, using a portion of the remaining funds, hired small, independent groups of shipwrights and carpenters, never the same crew for more than a few days, always paying well in cash and demanding absolute discretion. He oversaw the work from the shadows, often visiting the Nyx late at night, his instructions relayed to the foremen through Joss or sometimes through carefully worded, anonymous notes left in agreed-upon locations.
Alistair's knowledge of historical ship design, particularly of fast raiding vessels and smuggling craft, guided the modifications. The hull was further reinforced in key areas. Hidden compartments were constructed beneath the deck planking and within the bulkheads – large enough to conceal valuable cargo, weapons, or even people. The ship's already decent speed was enhanced by subtle adjustments to her ballast and rigging. He even had reinforced mounting points discreetly built into the gunwales, capable of supporting light defensive armaments like small ballistae or swivel guns, should the need ever arise. He was not just building a merchantman; he was forging a versatile instrument of his will.
The most critical challenge was recruiting a captain and crew. He needed men who were skilled, reliable, and, above all, discreet. Men who would not ask too many questions about their shadowy benefactor. Ferrego Antaryon offered to help, suggesting several captains from his family's extensive network. Viserys, wary of becoming too beholden to Ferrego or of having Antaryon loyalists aboard his vessel, politely declined direct placements, though he did allow Joss to gather names and reputations through Ferrego's channels.
His primary recruiting tool, however, was his own burgeoning intelligence network. He tasked Kipp, whose role was now evolving into that of a spymaster in miniature, with an incredibly sensitive mission: identify and vet potential crew members. Kipp and his "Little Sparrows" haunted the dockside taverns, the seamen's hostels, the less reputable hiring fairs. They listened for tales of skilled sailors down on their luck, of men with grievances against powerful merchant houses, of those known for their tight lips and steady hands in a crisis.
Through this painstaking process, a candidate for captain emerged: Valerion Qo, a Tyroshi of around forty years, his face a roadmap of sea-weather and hard living. Valerion had captained his own vessel until it was lost to a combination of a freak storm and, rumor had it, the treachery of a former partner. He was known as a superb navigator, a firm but fair commander, and a man who valued loyalty and kept his own counsel. He was also, currently, without a ship and burdened by debts. Kipp managed to discreetly ascertain that Valerion was a man of his word, with a deep-seated resentment for the often-capricious power of wealthy merchant princes.
Viserys, after meticulously reviewing every scrap of information Kipp had gathered, decided Valerion Qo was a risk worth taking. The first meeting was arranged with extreme caution. Joss, again acting as the representative of the anonymous Tyroshi patron, met Valerion in a private room at a nondescript inn. The terms offered were generous: a good salary, a share of legitimate profits, and, most importantly, a promise of non-interference in the day-to-day running of the ship, provided objectives were met and absolute discretion maintained. Valerion, cynical but desperate, accepted. He was given command of the Nyx, with a handpicked crew of similarly vetted sailors – men whose skills were matched only by their need for steady, discreet employment. Viserys ensured, through subtle means, that he possessed leverage over each key crew member, a hidden insurance policy against betrayal.
Daenerys, now a sharp-witted girl of eight, learned of the ship with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Viserys took her to see the Nyx one quiet afternoon, under the watchful eyes of Lyra and Morrec. The vessel, now refitted and bearing a fresh coat of dark grey paint that made her seem to blend with the murky Braavosi waters, looked purposeful, almost predatory.
"Is this our ship, Vizzy?" she whispered, her violet eyes wide as she stared up at the tall mast.
"It is, little dragon," Viserys confirmed, a rare note of possessive pride in his voice. "She will help us. She will take us to new places, help us gather what we need to go home."
"Will we sail on her? To Westeros?" Daenerys asked, a thrill of excitement in her voice.
"One day," Viserys said, gently ruffling her silver-gold hair. "But first, she must learn the seas, just as you must learn the ways of the world. The sea is a harsh teacher, Dany, but she offers great rewards to those who respect her power and understand her currents." He began to use the ship as a new teaching tool, explaining the principles of sailing, the constellations sailors used for navigation, telling her tales (carefully edited) of great Targaryen sea captains like Corlys Velaryon, "the Sea Snake," subtly instilling in her a sense of their family's maritime heritage.
The maiden voyage of the Nyx was planned with meticulous care. Viserys chose a relatively safe, if unglamorous, route: a cargo of Braavosi-crafted lenses and finely wrought metal tools (procured at favorable prices through Narbo, who was now entirely dependent on the "advisor's" goodwill) to Pentos, returning with a shipment of Pentoshi cheese, wine, and tapestries. It was a test run, designed to evaluate Captain Valerion, the crew, the ship herself, and Viserys's ability to manage such an operation remotely. He prepared detailed instructions for Valerion: coded phrases for communication via carrier pigeon (a service Viserys was cultivating through Kipp), contingency plans for storms or customs inspections, and even a list of trustworthy (and untrustworthy) merchants in Pentos, information gleaned from his own network.
Viserys did not sail. His presence on board would be an unnecessary risk. He remained in Braavos, in his warehouse command center, a young spider at the heart of an expanding web. Joss Hood, under the guise of the Tyroshi patron's chief agent, traveled to Pentos separately to oversee the trade negotiations on land, his primary role being to ensure the financial transactions were handled according to Viserys's precise instructions and to act as a secure communication link.
The voyage out was uneventful. The Nyx proved swift and seaworthy. Captain Valerion handled her expertly. The cargo was delivered, and the Pentoshi goods loaded. It was on the return leg, as they neared the coast of the Disputed Lands, that the first challenge arose. A small flotilla of pirate galleys, likely Lysene or Tyroshi reavers, was spotted on the horizon, clearly intending to intercept.
Valerion Qo, following Viserys's pre-established contingency protocols for such an encounter, immediately altered course, using the Nyx's superior speed and shallow draft to head towards a treacherous stretch of coastline marked on Viserys's charts as "The Serpent's Teeth" – a maze of jagged rocks and unpredictable currents that larger, deeper-drafted pirate galleys would be hesitant to enter. It was a calculated risk, relying on Valerion's skill and Viserys's detailed cartography (some of which was based on Alistair's historical knowledge of ancient, forgotten Valyrian sea lanes).
For several tense hours, the pirates gave chase. One particularly bold galley, smaller and faster than its compatriots, managed to close the distance, its crew loosing arrows and shouting threats. Valerion, his Tyroshi curses as colorful as his sash, expertly maneuvered the Nyx through the narrow channels, the sound of waves crashing against hidden reefs a constant roar. The crew, though green, performed admirably under his stern command, their earlier drills paying off. The reinforced hull of the Nyx even shrugged off a glancing blow from a poorly aimed grappling hook.
Finally, as dusk began to fall, painting the sea in hues of blood and shadow, the pirates, frustrated and fearing the approaching darkness in such dangerous waters, broke off the pursuit. The Nyx had escaped, shaken but unharmed, her crew exhilarated by their narrow deliverance.
When news of the encounter reached Viserys via a hastily dispatched pigeon carrying a coded message from Valerion (sent from a small, hidden cove where they had taken temporary shelter), he felt a surge of cold triumph. His planning, his choice of captain and ship, had been vindicated. He also noted, with Alistair's analytical detachment, the pirates' area of operation, their tactics, their apparent reluctance to press an attack against a well-handled vessel that fought back, however modestly. More data for his ever-expanding mental archive.
The Nyx returned to Braavos laden with profitable cargo and a crew whose respect for their new captain, and by extension their unseen, well-prepared benefactor, had been solidified by shared danger. The profits from this single voyage far exceeded what Viserys had been able to accumulate through months of advising local merchants. He now had a significant, renewable source of independent income.
With this success, the warehouse became even more central to his operations. He had Joss and Morrec discreetly fortify it further. Morrec, his grim silence belying a surprising aptitude for such work, oversaw the installation of stronger doors, barred windows, and even a few simple but effective deadfalls in unused corridors. Joss, meanwhile, took on the public-facing role of the "Tyroshi merchant" who ostensibly owned the Nyx and managed its affairs, his natural honesty somehow making his portrayal of the bluff, slightly secretive foreigner entirely convincing to port officials and other traders.
The whispers of the wider world, brought back by the Nyx and by Kipp's ever-expanding network (which now included contacts in the ports the Nyx visited), began to paint a more detailed picture of the political and economic landscape of Essos. He learned of the growing tensions between Myr and Lys over control of the Disputed Lands, of the Dothraki Sea's increasing restlessness under a new, aggressive Khal, of the decadent stagnation in Qarth, and the simmering slave revolts in the Ghiscari cities. From Westeros, the news remained sporadic and filtered, but tales of King Robert's excesses, Queen Cersei's ambition, and Lord Stannis's brooding vigilance on Dragonstone continued to trickle in, each piece a reminder of the ultimate prize, and the ultimate danger.
Viserys, now a boy of nearly eleven, felt the weight of his endeavors, the crushing responsibility of his secrets. He was no longer merely surviving; he was building, scheming, preparing for a future only he could fully envision. The Nyx was more than just a ship; she was a symbol of his growing power, the first tangible instrument of his will capable of reaching beyond the canals of Braavos. Alistair Finch, the scholar, felt a thrill of intellectual accomplishment at this complex logistical and strategic success. Viserys Targaryen, the exiled king, felt a colder, deeper satisfaction. The shadow fleet had its first keel. The dragon was no longer just hiding in the reeds; it was testing the currents, its eyes fixed on the distant, storm-tossed horizon of its birthright. The whispers of the wider world were no longer just sounds in the distance; they were calls to action, invitations to a larger, deadlier game. And Viserys was preparing to answer.