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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 58: Saphire Segments
🕑 Added 2025-08-24 14:08:00 +0000 UTCChapter 58: Saphire Segments
123 AC, Valyria
Sargoso Saan had sailed practically to every significant port in the known world, all the way to Yi-Ti. He had done so with a fearless smile on his face, and a loyal crew supporting him, a crew that he enriched with every voyage he took, rivalling even the Sea Snake, himself.
Sargoso was impressed with the man’s voyages, despite the customary embellishments, of course, but it took some time to realise that the man was a merchant first, and a sailor second. The moment he made a name for himself, he settled back into the savage sunset lands and turned back into being some petty lord.
He had once thought badly of the man, but he had to admit that he was becoming weary of it all. Unfortunately, there were few men with a fleet as experienced as his own, and his older brother, Saathos, had fucked everything over. He was sent on a mission by Lys, their home, to clear out the local pirates in the Basilisk Isles, a group of islands filled with nothing but disease and monsters, especially given the proximity to Sothoryos. Of course, his brother decided to rebel and turn pirate, like their ancestor and Sargoso’s namesake, which, while admirable, almost got the Saan family assassinated.
Sargoso had been in Lys at the time and had barely succeeded in keeping his head, as well as that of the rest of the Saan family, in exchange for using his fleet to transport the Magisters’ merchandise for a very low cost. It was the way to survive in the Free Cities, to make your life more profitable to your enemies than your death.
So, while his brother was playing pirate-king, Sargoso was busy trying to survive, but it was quickly getting on him. So far, he’d managed to discreetly hide what remained of his family in Braavos, with enough gold in the Iron Bank to manage on their own, as well as a few ships of his that ‘disappeared’. He’d done it slowly and discreetly over the years and still made sure to deposit enough in the Rogare Bank in Lys to avoid suspicion. Now, he only needed for him and his fleet to disappear completely.
The opportunity came during one of his standard trips to Asshai, where a Red Priestess had asked him to secure passage to the cursed isles.
The Red Faith wasn’t really as prevalent as it was in Volantis, but it still had enough influence in Lys that Sargoso understood that refusing wasn’t exactly an option either. Still, she paid enough that he would have accepted easily if it were any other destination, but he had done his best to avoid going to Asshai as much as possible.
He always hated the place, and even in the few times he was forced to come, he rarely ever left his ship, let alone the port. Asshai was a very dangerous place, and the further away from the port you went, the higher the chance that you would end up dead in some mage’s ritual. It was said that it was easier to die in Asshai than to die in the jungles of Sothoryos.
He wasn’t happy about being forced into taking the Red Priestess to Asshai, but thought that he’d use it to make some trades to profit from it.
Imagine his surprise when, a few days after they landed in Volantis to shore up on supplies, the Red Priestess returned with a small army of Warlocks from Qarth.
Now, he was more familiar with Qarth. The markets had enough diversity and even products from Yi-Ti that saved him from taking a longer trip. Sure, the merchants and nobles, whatever they called themselves, there were stuck-up pricks, but they were rich pricks and stuck to their dealings as their reputation was important.
Still, he didn’t know much about the Temple of the Undying and its Warlocks, other than the residents of Qarth being wary of them, and after seeing them, there was something that made him agree with them. Tall, thin, and strange blue lips, they spoke in a very eerie voice that made him shiver despite not being cold.
At first, he’d planned to run, but they had a proposition for him, something that he could use in his situation. They wished to go to Valyria and were willing to pay a veritable fortune to take them there. Sargoso would have refused, if not for the idea that sparked in his mind, one that would guarantee his freedom after years of work.
Fuck, Sargoso hated mages. They spoke in riddles while killing you slowly from the inside without you knowing, while claiming that it was salvation, and now he was on a ship full of them.
It was a very tense trip, to say the least, with the leader of the Warlocks standing almost entirely still for days at a time, barely doing anything more than arguing with the Red Priestess for some reason.
And here he was, before the Smoking Sea, making sure not to advance further, with most of his crew ready. He turned towards the Red Priestess, who had been the one to pay for the expedition, “I have fulfilled my end of the bargain, Priestess. This ship is now yours, with a crew of slaves to take you to the depths of Valyria, as promised. My crew and I will not go further than this, lest we invite danger to ourselves.”
This was the plan: to give the mages one of his ships, sailed by slaves, capable, in theory, to sail to Valyria, and in exchange, he received a small mountain of gold, worth the ship, the slaves, and the trouble. If they did truly sail to Valyria, then Sargoso doubted he would even see them again.
After they inevitably disappeared, he would scatter his fleet for a few years, while sailing back to Braavos with his new gold, and hide there, everyone, especially the Magisters of Lys, thinking his lost in another doomed expedition to Valyria. Lys would forget about him, only mourning the loss of his services at best, and Sargoso would be free.
Everyone would benefit from it.
The Priestess gave him a searching look before nodding, “Quite so, Sargoso Saan of Lys. Know that you have the gratitude of the Lord of Light this night, for it is with his blessing that you have paid the price of your freedom. For the Great Other must be vanquished and the Cold Death smothered in the fires of Old Valyria. I will search for you again, should R’hllor require your services once more.”
The Warlock snorted in contempt, “Do not overestimate yourself, Kinvara. Death’s power is for the Undying to Master, and we agreed that you would not interfere in our affairs in exchange for our aid.”
“I remember our agreement, Warlock. I shall not stop your conquest, only spread the Fire of R’hllor and cleanse this place of the taint of the Great Other as he commanded me. Your masters would do well to remember that they, too, are instruments of R’hllor, for his ways are mysterious that even they cannot withstand his fiery will.”
Sargoso spoke up, not wanting to get involved in another argument with the mages on his ship, “And I don’t care about any of this. I only need my fucking gold.”
The Red Priestess, Kinvara, stopped staring at him and just took out a scroll of parchment, which she gave him. “This is sealed by the High Priest in Lys. Take it to the Iron Bank and they shall allow you to withdraw the remaining amount as promised.”
Sargoso stared at the piece of parchment and recognised the seal, but that didn’t mean anything, especially given that he had no idea what was inside. It could even be empty.
He looked at Kinvara and growled out, “This isn’t what we agreed on.”
“I thought it more prudent for you to travel without visible chests of gold to Braavos, given your goals of escaping the Magisters’ hold on you and your family.”
The captain stilled, his face turning pale, and if anything, the priestess’ smirk widened at his reaction, “R’hllor sees all, Sargoso Saan. He knows all. I found your goal admirable, seeking freedom from invisible chains, from crimes that were not your own. It is why I chose to sail with you, why I gave you this opportunity. Do not squander it.”
Sargoso stared at the priestess and chose not to push things. She had given him a small chest as a guarantee when their journey started, and becoming an enemy of the Red Faith, especially given what the woman knew, felt like a grave misstep.
Fucking mages. This was why he hated dealing with them.
He took the sealed scroll and nodded, “Thank you for your patronage, priestess.”
She nodded slyly and turned to speak with the Warlock.
He was already regretting his trip, especially after speaking to one of the Warlocks, who was drunk on this purple shit they drank all of the time, and he kept murmuring about an approaching Darkness and Death walking the living world. Apparently, some terrible force had come to the Sunset Lands, which made him wonder why they even wished to go the Valyria in the first place, or even Westeros for that matter.
It took him a few days to realise that they were all completely mad, claiming that they had received visions to come to Valyria, that they would defeat Death and claim its power and become immortal. At least, that was what he understood. There were hundreds of metaphors and obscure shit in the middle, just that it was the will of their gods or whatever.
It was extremely annoying, especially when he kept stopping Kinvara from making flames to gaze into, or whatever the fuck she did with it. For some reason, asking her not to burn down the ship that she sailed on was too much for her.
Sargoso had no idea if it was true, nor did he care. What mattered was the fact that mages were becoming disturbingly active all over the world at once, and he wished to stay away from them completely. He’d even heard rumours that something stirred some trouble in Asshai, something about dead Shadowbinders or something. The world really was going to shit.
This entire trip was a nightmare from the start, one that he hoped would end soon with him being free at last. Most of the Warlocks were preparing to depart on the other ship, taking their supplies with them, and sail on their doomed voyage to Valyria. Soon, they would all be dead, meaning that Sargoso’s headache would be gone.
They were halfway done when suddenly, a giant crimson comet appeared in the sky, illuminating it completely, almost like a second moon that appeared out of thin air.
Kinvara fell to her knees instantly and created a flame which floated in her palm, a display of magic that he had never seen before. She gazed at it with a disturbing, awed expression on her face, as if it were a great treasure and not a real risk of burning down the ship and everyone with it.
The warlocks, in the meantime, moved with unnerving precision, forming a circle on the deck, their blue lips whispering in unison. Strange guttural syllables rolled from their tongues, and soon an unnatural violet glow spiralled above them, in a way that reminded Sargoso of smoke, only it seemed to twist into different shapes, each one causing wind to move with it.
What the fuck had happened? He would agree that the Comet’s appearance was sudden, but the mages’ reactions were strange, to say the least.
Taking a look at the Warlocks of Qarth, he decided that Kinvara would be the safer option to ask for an answer. He knelt down and asked her, “Fucking hell. What happened, Kinvara?”
The woman’s eyes rose, looking at the sky, and she spoke in an odd, gravelly voice, “Behold! R’hllor’s fire burns above us! The Lord of Light grants us His sign! Tonight, we are chosen. The Shadow will falter, and His flame shall prevail! Our gifts are empowered, blessed by the Lord of Light himself.”
She then knelt down and returned to stare at the floating flame in her palm. Fuck, that didn’t clear shit. He turned towards the Warlocks and gaped at the giant glow above them, which was slowly taking the shape of a giant twisted head, if he squinted. And with it came the pressure, an invisible weight bearing down on his chest, crushing, suffocating, unlike anything he had ever felt. His knuckles whitened on the railing.
Before panic could take hold, a burst of golden light erupted in the distance, if his intuition was correct, near Valyria. It shot into the heavens like a spear, shattering the violet glow instantly and leaving the warlocks staggering, their chanting dying into broken gasps.
Then something shook the hull of the ship, as if it was stopped in its tracks. He looked over and saw a black cloud appearing disturbingly quickly in the sky. Storm clouds, given the rumbling, a very unnatural one at that. Sargoso had never seen one form this fast in all his years, not even close. It was only his experience, where he ran into the cabin, that saved him. The moment he entered, the world went white, and a deafening crack tore through the air. The ship lurched violently, throwing him hard against the cabin wall. Outside, he could hear the crew shouting in panic, and he knew immediately that the ship was fucked.
When Sargoso staggered to the deck, chaos reigned. Warlocks twitched and spasmed, blue blood running from their noses. Kinvara knelt in a spreading pool of her own tears, crying blood, whispering feverishly, “R’hllor… grant us strength. The Night is dark… and full of terrors…”
Then she started to sit up and let out a harrowing scream, staring up at the skies, her eyes bleeding even further. He needed to get the fuck away from this shit. Fuck the gold, fuck the mages, and fuck everything.
He ran towards the first six members of his crew he could find, “To the fucking Longboat, you sacks of shit.”
It had been one of his impulsive buys, but it had proven its worth as it made it easier to transport heavy weights, or when the ports were full. Now, it was likely going to save his life.
They ran down the hull and cut the ropes despite the sudden storm. They finally arrived, and swam through the turbulent water, and rowed as far away as they could from Valyria. He agreed with his decision, as he could tell that his ships were slowly sinking, likely because of a crack in the hull, something that he didn’t even think Lightning could do.
Of course, as if to make things worse, a thunderous sound, far louder than even the storm, shook the sea completely. From the Smoking Sea’s horizon, pillars of molten stone exploded skyward, ripping through storm and cloud alike, spraying fire high enough to blot out the stars, cutting through the sudden Storm.
And yet, above Valyria, the comet burned brighter despite the cloud of ash hiding it.
He knew it, deep down, that the Fourteen Flames had erupted once more. The volcanic eruption was simply too powerful to be otherwise. If he were perfectly honest, it reminded him of the tales of the Doom. He only hoped he would survive it.
Sargoso gripped the edge of the longboat as another blast rolled across the sea, the shockwave lifting the waves high enough to almost flip them. Behind him, the main ship was already half-submerged, creaking as the hull gave way.
He forced himself to keep rowing alongside his crew, muscles burning, until his arms went numb. Every instinct screamed to put more distance between himself and Valyria.
Finally, when they were far enough that the waves had calmed down, he looked back and saw nothing more than a giant cloud surrounding Valyria and that cursed comet above it. A part of him knew that they shouldn’t have escaped it, whatever the fuck had happened.
“Fuck Valyria,” he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. “Fuck the Red Faith. Fuck the Warlocks.”
Whatever was left of his crew nodded at him in agreement. Yes, he was done with this. If he managed to find his way to Volantis, he would take one of his ships that he had left there and sail to Braavos. He’d live there as a merchant with a different name, drown himself in wine and whores as far away from Valyria as he could.
He had no idea what was causing magic to go mad, and he wanted no part of it. Yes, he would have a quiet life from there. And yet, something told him that what happened would not stay in Valyria.
AN: I’m really not sure about this one. This is a bit of an interlude to show how Harry’s actions in Valyria affect the magical populations around. If you noticed, in the last chapter, Harry mentioned getting rid of pests. Well, now that’s the pests in question. Anyway, I planned on doing something else, more like a small between magical factions through glass candles after the fact, but I thought that this might be more fun, to essentially show the reaction of some normal man alongside the Red Priests and Warlocks of Qarth being nearby, and essentially melting at the realisation. I don’t know if it worked or came out like I wanted it to. I had to rewrite it a few times to make it work, and a part of me wishes that I had stuck with the original idea. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting the chapter depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Marius Petrauskas
nice
Alexander D.
> fuck the Red Faith I’m not sure R’Hllor likes to be fucked. This might end with the Varys kind of outcome.
