Chapter 119: High Tide (A Corlys Velaryon SI) by Tertius711
one asoiaf fic which I like a lot
Words: 230k+
Links: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13621004/1/High-Tide-A-Corlys-Velaryon-SI
https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/high-tide-a-corlys-velaryon-si.860581/
(Corlys Velaryon is a man of legend. He has begun a new Age of Enlightenment and Exploration, of revolutionary new ideas, and incredible innovations that have made travel at sea faster and more profitable than ever before. But progress is not without consequences. In this changing world, can Corlys Velaryon continue to guide House Velaryon to its promised high tide?)
Chapter 1: Tides Rising
Daemon Velaryon
Fifth Moon, 61 AC
Winter had ended a few months ago. It had been short but terrible. Crops had failed across the realm, famine had spread, and blizzards had reached as far south as Highgarden. Worst of all was the plague that had come with the winter. The Shivers.
A man could feel cold one night, mistake it for the chill of the wintry air, and be dead by morning. Soon a shivering will begin, one that will worsen until teeth chatter and one's arms, legs, and whole body will convulse and seize. When the end was near, it was said that your lips would turn blue and you'd cough blood.
Daemon knew these symptoms all too well. When the Shivers had torn through the realm, Daemon had sickened with the disease like many had. He had seen the Stranger at his door, inching toward him, and had thought that his time had come. He had said his last prayers and laid down to die. He should have.
By some chance, Daemon had survived, but in truth it had been no mercy. He had risen from what should have been his deathbed to learn the horrible agonizing truth. His wife, his love Naerys, was gone. Four of their children had perished with her, along with many others of his kin. Three of his daughters were dead, daughters Daemon would never hold or cherish again. His eldest son and heir, Corwyn, his pride and joy, had perished. Corwyn's wife Primrose, sweet Prim, who had been like another daughter to Daemon, was dead as well, leaving their three boys orphaned. He could not even truly mourn, for the bodies of the dead had been disposed of with great haste once they had passed and Daemon had still been ill when they had all passed.
Across the realm, mothers wailed, fathers grieved, and children were orphaned and bereft of siblings and kin. Prim's father Lord Edwell Celtigar and his son, her brother, Ser Caspian, had died as well on Claw Isle. Both of them were Daemon's kin in blood and marriage, and Edwell had been a friend of his. A quarter of Oldtown had perished, and over a third of King's Landing was gone.
Not even the Targaryens had been excepted. Princess Daenerys had been her parents' pride and joy, their eldest child, the proof of their Doctrine of Exceptionalism and their claims to being different and favored, of being immune to illness and ailment. Daenerys had sickened and died in a day.
Daemon heart, already shattered, had broken for his niece and nephew. He had written a private letter of condolence to Jaehaerys and Alysanne, addressed to family, not to his King and Queen, and signed as their uncle, not as Lord of the Tides. The only reply had been the formal gratitude condolences of the Iron Throne, written by the Hand of the King.
If he was being honest, it had stung. He knew they hadn't been close since their mother had passed and he had resigned as Hand, but to treat him so distantly? Daemon wished not to tread on those dark thoughts and had chosen to dismiss it as a mistake in grief. Seven knew he had enough of that on his own.
To escape from his sorrows, Daemon had thrown himself into his duties and had found that grief waited there too. A quarter of Driftmark had died. The island's lifeblood was trade, and trade had carried the disease with it, rumors abound that vermin had spread the disease by some means the Maesters had never determined. It mattered little now. So many had died, and trade had come to a standstill. Driftmark was in shambles, reeling from the crippling loss and devastation. It would be years, decades even, before it recovered.
The state of his island and his house had left Daemon in a melancholy he could not escape. On some days he would pass all his duties onto his beleaguered younger sons Jorgen and Victor, and brood in his solar instead, cursing the Seven for taking so much from him and giving him nothing in return. They were cruel gods indeed, if they even existed, to force him to keep on living when it seemed there was little good in life left to live for. Sometimes he even idly considered simply ending it all, but he had stopped himself from such thoughts for one reason alone.
He could not leave his grandson with the burden of lordship at such a young age. Young Corlys's eighth nameday had barely passed and he was lucky to see it. Only six months ago Daemon had feared he would lose Corlys as he had his mother and father. The lad had complained of a chill, sickened and become bedridden with the Shivers. He had been so near to the Stranger's grasp, so very near. His lips had turned blue and he had coughed blood. All had told Daemon to give up on his grandson, for when such signs arose, the end was near.
Daemon had refused to accept that. He had lost too much already. He had ordered that all possible care and treatment continued to be given, and then he had prayed. He had lost all faith in the Seven years ago, when their acolytes had persecuted his sister and her family. The Seven had not spared the rest of his kin, why would they spare young Corlys? Yet still Daemon had prayed, out of desperation if nothing less.
Like him, Corlys had fought to live. Eventually his sickness abated and he had recovered and grown strong again. Whether the Seven had anything to do with that, Daemon did not know. Yet he was beginning to wonder if they had, for Corlys had been acting strange the past year.
When he had awoken from his illness, Corlys had beheld the world around him in confusion, as if he did not recognize it. Soon enough however, his confusion had turned to wonder and he had leapt at his new chance at life. The boy had become a frantic and energetic lad, always off on some adventure or running around on some task he insisted was important.
Corlys had always been close to his younger brothers, Rhaekar and Aurane. Yet since the Shivers, their bond had only strengthened. They were thick as thieves now and getting into constant mischief that irritated Daemon and yet also brought him one of his last pieces of joy.
And yet beneath the energy and vigor of an eight-year old boy, there was a newfound maturity there, a wisdom that was seemingly beyond his years. Sometimes when Daemon spoke to his grandson, he felt like he was speaking to a man, not a boy. There was something in his indigo eyes that had not been there before.
Daemon had attributed all of this to the Shivers and what it had taken from the boy. Bereft of his parents, Corlys had naturally stepped into a position of authority and responsibility over his younger brothers. Having almost died, he had found a new appreciation and enthusiasm for life, as if to make the most of living. All of this made sense… yet he could not help but wonder if there was anything more to it.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Enter," he commanded.
Maester Desmond walked in, his hair was a sandy blonde and his eyes were purple, signifying his Valyrian descent. Daemon knew Desmond had once been a member of his own house, if distant. He had specifically requested a Maester from Driftmark after the previous one had died in the plague.
"Maester Desmond, what brings you here this fine morning?"
"Your grandson my lord," he said with some mild irritation.
Daemon sighed. "What has he done this time?" he asked. Corlys had developed a rather annoying tendency to doodle or write things in class since his bout with the Shivers and much to Desmond's irritation, always seemed to be able to understand nearly all that was being taught without paying the slightest attention.
The first time it had happened, Desmond had assigned Corlys a question set of extremely advanced sums and numbers he did not expect him to be able to answer, as a lesson in humility and to make him understand the need to learn when he finally failed and gave up. To his surprise, Corlys had answered the questions in less than an hour, and apparently had used a method Desmond had never seen before, despite having a red-gold link in sums and numbers, a subject which the young Corlys had insisted on calling 'Mathematics'.
Further testing had revealed that it had not been fortune or chance. Corlys was tested extensively by the Maester on any topic he could think of and Corlys performed perfectly in several and learned quickly in those he did not.
"He is bored my lord. There is less and less I can teach him. Nearly any question in most subjects he is taught he can understand and answer with knowledge and insight he simply should not have. He even has knowledge in some subjects that are not taught directly at the Citadel as links. And he has all these strange terms to call subjects and new ways to arrange them into new subjects and subtopics."
Desmond's words were making Daemon wonder again at what he had seen in Corlys's eyes, the wisdom and maturity he now carried that had no place in a boy of eight, even one that had experienced what Corlys had. It was not the only thing strange. Corlys had always been a smart lad, eager to learn and dedicated to his studies, but now he lazily breezed through all his lessons with seeming ease. It was inexplicable.
"You have told me this before. What has changed since last we spoke?" Daemon asked.
"My lord, I must confess, if Corlys continues to advance at the rate he is, I will have nothing left to teach him within a year," Desmond said, shocking Daemon.
"You mean to tell me, that the education that is expected of a future lord, will be completed by a boy that would just turn nine?" Daemon demanded, stunned at the Maester's daring.
"Yes my lord. The education that I could prove him of course, which is all only theoretical. I am sure he would have much to learn from you in the actual practice of governance, but the base education he will require will be finished within a year. I am not qualified to teach him much more than that. His knowledge rivals some acolytes I knew in the Citadel, and that is where he will need to go if he wishes to pursue his studies in learning and lore any further."
"You expect me to believe this?" Daemon asked, still incredulous and though he would not admit it, afraid at the possibility his grandson might ask leave to study at the Citadel, away from him. Daemon feared losing him.
"My lord," Desmond said seriously. "I am certain that his knowledge and insight on many topics, such as money and accounts," he said, pointing to the yellow-gold link representing that study on his chain, "rivals that of fully trained and chained Maesters! Maybe even an Archmaester!"
Daemon was stunned. This should not be possible. No mere boy could have this much knowledge or be this clever. Unbidden his thoughts began to turn to the prayer he had given the Seven when Corlys had sickened. Could there be a connection in any way?
"Allow me to prove it to you my lord," Maester Desmond said. "Corlys, you can come in now. Show your grandsire what you have been planning."
The door opened then and in strode his grandson. Tall for his age, and yet still clearly a boy, were it not for the steel gaze in his eyes that once again made Daemon think there was something wise and old behind them.
"Grandfather, it's good to see you!" he said with a cheerful smile that made Daemon's heart clench at the familiar sight of Corwyn's smile on his son's face.
"Corlys, it's good to see you too my boy. What's this I hear of your 'plans'?" Daemon asked, encouraging his grandson to step forward.
With a grin, Corlys placed two small stacks of parchment on his desk. Taking a chair for himself, he sat down and began excitedly flipping through his parchments. Eagerly explaining some kind of compass that used 'magnetism', which Daemon had never heard of, to create a needle that would always point north and allow any seafarer to know the direction he was going even without sight of land or needing to look at the stars.
"Is this true Desmond?" he asked his maester, wanting confirmation. A device like this compass would change seafaring forever if it could actually exist. In this day and age, almost all sailors hugged the coastline when they travelled by sea. Few were foolhardy enough to stray beyond sight of the coast without need. The Summer Islanders were among the few that dared to navigate the open sea regularly, using the stars and constellations in order to navigate.
Desmond nodded hesitantly. "I believe so my lord. The Citadel has long known that certain substances, lodestones, could produce an attraction or repulsion to certain metals. We have even discovered that when suspended freely, a lodestone would curiously always point north. A greater understanding of this phenomenon could almost undoubtedly produce the compass that young Corlys speaks of."
Daemon nodded, still in disbelief that a boy of eight could conceive of any of this. Precocious was an understatement. It was as if the Crone or the Smith had possessed the boy.
"And… this?" Daemon asked, pointing toward the other stack.
On the top of the stack was a drawing that Daemon was already inspecting. It was of a ship, but it was no idle doodle of an eight-year old but more like an advanced building plan made by a shipwright, outlining construction methods and design, sail riggings, cargo space, and strange triangular sails.
"This Grandfather, is a caravel, and it will change Driftmark forever!" Corlys pronounced with absolute confidence.
"And what makes you so sure of that?" Daemon demanded.
"Allow me to explain Grandfather. This caravel of mine is similar to the Braavosi sunchasers, which they have modeled after Elissa Farman's infamous ship. They have her designs, they built that ship. We know the design works. The swan ships of the Summer Islands also work on a similar principle.
"The caravel is carvel-built, the planks in its hull do not overlap like in traditional clinker-built cogs or galleys. An adhesive or glue could seal the edges and ensure the hull is watertight. These 'lateen' triangular sails will allow the ship to sail upwind."
Daemon laughed despite himself though deep down he felt some relief. For all his seeming precociousness, his grandson was still dreaming fantasies and had not become a master shipwright without any formal training. "Ships cannot sail upwind," he said.
"This one can," Corlys insisted. "In much the same way sunchasers and swan ships do. Those ships do not directly sail against the wind, rather they sail diagonally against it. We would point the bow of the caravel into the wind, angling its triangular sails such that it was able to catch as much wind as possible and propel the ship forward in the relative direction it needed to go. This is a process called 'tacking' and would require constant maneuvering and re-rigging of the sail. The end result however would be the ship moving in a zig-zag motion in the general direction of travel. It would not require any oars whatsoever and would be faster than any galley or cog
"Combined with the compass, the caravel would be far more suited for trade or even war on the open sea. I can guarantee you the ships will more than pay off their investment with their increased speed and durability on the high seas and it will greatly speed up Driftmark's recovery from the Shivers."
Throughout his entire speech, Corlys had not broken eye contact with Daemon except to flip the pages of his parchment and explain the complicated principles behind his two proposals. Whatever it was he was seeing in Corlys's eyes had returned in full force, greater than ever, and Daemon would confess that he was both amazed and scared. Corlys spoke with a conviction, a charisma, that no boy his age should possibly possess and which he certainly had not possessed before he had fallen ill.
Desperate, he turned to his Maester. "Desmond, your thoughts on this caravel?"
Desmond raised up his arms and waved them hurriedly. "My apologies my lord, shipbuilding and sailing were not my expertise at the Citadel. I did not expect I would need them here on Driftmark with its many fine shipwrights and sailors such as yourself."
He understood immediately what Desmond had done. He had deflected the question back to him, and it was one he was far more qualified to answer than the Maester was. Like all Velaryons, Daemon had learned how to sail nearly as soon as he had learned how to walk. He had initially laughed off Corlys's claims, but as his experience in sailing came to the forefront and his memories of seeing swan ships and sunchasers reemerged, he began to realize that Corlys might actually be right.
Still Daemon was not about to build a fleet of expensive and untested ships based solely on his eight-year old grandson's wild ideas. He said as much.
Corlys was not fazed. "A test then Grandfather?"
Daemon raised his eyebrows.
"My compass is much less difficult and expensive to build. If I can prove to you that one of my ideas works, will you be willing to at least test the other?"
Daemon pondered his words before agreeing. "Very well. Build me a compass and prove to me it works and I will have the shipwrights build a caravel and we will see if it is as good as you claim it to be."
"Thank you Grandfather! You won't regret this!" Corlys said before he dragged the Maester out the door, forcibly recruiting him for his compass building.
Daemon just hoped his grandson was right and he didn't end up regretting this.
Fifth Moon 62 AC
Daemon couldn't believe he was actually doing this. He was actually going to sail a ship designed by an eight-year old boy. Corlys had built the compass as promised and true to his word, Daemon had built the caravel according to Corlys's plan, refined by Driftmark's expert shipwrights. Its crew had been specially trained to rig its lateen sails and maneuver the ship in its tacking. As he stepped on board the new ship, his grandson beside him, Daemon's thoughts drifted to how he had even come to this point.
A month after his grandson had proposed the test, he and Desmond had placed a strange instrument on his desk. A Myrish-glass covered, circular metal rim with a steel needle suspended on a stand in the middle. As promised, the compass needle always pointed north and had passed all of the tests Daemon had personally submitted to it.
Working on the compass seemed to have made Desmond and Corlys friends as both of them had excitedly explained how they had worked together to determine that lodestones worked via a phenomenon known as 'magnetism'. Lodestones, naturally occurring in many mines, were a natural magnet and Corlys and Desmond had discovered they could transfer their magnetism to certain substances.
Together they had discovered that stroking a piece of iron in a certain way with a lodestone appeared to transfer the magnetism of the lodestone to the piece of iron. Disappointingly the experiments appeared to have failed as within a short time, the magnetism of the iron pieces failed and they could no longer attract other iron objects and magnets without further stroking.
However, unwilling to give up, Corlys had suggested trying with other magnetic substances as well. The most successful of their attempts was steel. They had found that a piece of steel once magnetised, easily retained its magnetism when compared to iron.
Desmond was already in the process of writing a thesis on magnetism, to be sent to the Citadel, hypothesizing that magnetism worked best on ferrous substances and that it was likely the earth itself had a large ferrous core to explain why compass needles always pointed north. Daemon had ordered him to hold off on publishing it until he returned from his voyage on this new caravel of Corlys's.
As the ship set sail, Daemon began to panic. He had no experience with this ship, what if it failed? What if it sank and they all drowned? That was always a risk if ships hadn't been built properly and this particular ship had been a completely new and complicated design Driftmark had never built before. The risks were not light.
His concern must have shown on his face because his grandson reassured him. "Relax grandfather, it will work," he said.
He wasn't sure about that, but he nodded nonetheless. Fear would cripple his ability to lead. Daemon calmed himself and ordered the crew to rig the sails for tacking, falling into tried and tested habits from years of experience captaining ships. His thoughts began to drift to the voyage ahead.
All the sailors had trained with tacking sailing around Driftmark, but this would be the caravel's first true voyage. Daemon had chosen Pentos as the destination, one of Driftmark's main trade partners. He wanted to test if the ship could safely manage a crossing of the Narrow Sea. He had ordered several galleys to follow behind them in sight in case anything went wrong and remembering that allowed him to calm down a little.
Soon he was comfortable enough to relax as the ship sailed smoothly, its trained crew expertly rigging and re-rigging its sails as it sailed diagonally against the wind. It was almost soothing how the ship could sail even when the wind was against it. At one point it had almost felt like it was gliding through the water.
Before Daemon had realized it, the caravel had far outpaced its galley escort, but strangely enough, by then, his fears of the ship failing and he and his grandson drowning had abated.
"See? I told you it would work," his grandson said smugly.
"Don't be so smug," Daemon lectured his grandson. "The voyage is not finished yet. We have proven the ship will not sink, now we shall ascertain if the rest of your claims about it are true."
"They are," Corlys declared, not a trace of doubt or uncertainty in his voice.
"We shall see."
Sixth Moon, 62 AC
Daemon had had no choice but to concede eventually. Despite how wild Corlys's claims about the caravel had been, they had been true. The caravel did sail faster, and its sail rigging and tacking did allow it to somewhat sail upwind.
It was not that much faster than a galley on average yes but it made up for it by being entirely sail-powered, and could travel much further in a day, even upwind, by use of its triangular 'lateen' sails and tacking maneuver. When the conditions were right, the ship could even travel at an incredible 8 knots! Double the average speed of a galley, and it could do it all without a single oar.
Normally it would take three to five days to cross the Narrow Sea with fair winds and calm seas. Daemon had been suitably impressed when the caravel had made it in two. His keen mind was already calculating the potential benefits to trade for Driftmark.
The compass had also proven its worth, and Daemon had greatly enjoyed how easy it was to maintain the correct course to Pentos with its aid in determining which way was north.
Upon their return from Pentos, Daemon had ordered his shipwrights to begin work on constructing more caravels and for work to continue on testing the ship's capabilities and training sailors to handle it. He had also ordered his artisans and craftsmen to build more compasses for the Velaryon fleets to use.
As Maester Desmond had predicted a year earlier, Corlys had mastered all that he could teach him soon after they had returned from the caravel's maiden voyage. Daemon himself had taken over Corlys's lessons after that, though the boy had started to visit the shipwrights and sailors to hone his skills with them as well.
Every day, Daemon tutored with his young grandson, training him and preparing him for his eventual role as Lord of the Tides. They would discuss and study many topics, ranging from Corlys's academic pursuits, and Daemon was sure he had more innovations in mind, to war, politics and philosophy, where the boy proved to be equally as prodigious if in need of experience and further training.
One of his favorite activities for the boy at present was to present him with several challenges that would face him as the Lord of House Velaryon, and how he would deal with them. Daemon had drawn on his own experiences in his eventful life for these challenges. Each time the boy had risen to the challenge and had impressed Daemon with insightful and clever answers.
He had been very impressed by Corlys's analysis of the Faith Militant Uprising and Maegor's reign, and how he would have navigated it. It had reminded Daemon a lot of what he had actually done in that time, even if the specifics were different.
There was no doubt in Daemon's mind now. The Seven had blessed Corlys with great wisdom, intellect, and knowledge, when they had saved him from the Shivers. It had been their weregild to Daemon, their recompense for stealing so much from him.
Little else could explain the boy's prodigy. His was a genius the world rarely saw the like of. Perhaps it was grandfatherly bias, but Daemon truly believed Corlys to be one of the smartest people he had ever met. His mind worked in a way that inspired awe. Corlys could think of solutions to problems that Daemon had never even imagined.
The problem of accounting for example was that it was difficult to keep track of records at times, and the more cunning clerks could hide evidences of corruption. Corlys had pioneered a system he referred to as 'double-entry bookkeeping' to easily record accounts and balance budgets. Even more importantly, mistakes, intentional or otherwise, were more easily spotted. Daemon had already sent quite a few of his clerks and harbourmasters to the Wall on charges of corruption.
Daemon was very proud of his grandson but… he was not even ten years old yet. Daemon would rather not let news of his grandson's genius spread too quickly. He had already ordered Maester Desmond to downplay Corlys's role in the magnestism experiments to innovations to an inquisitive student at most. Though the Maester would not be submitting his thesis to the Citadel for many years still, Daemon didn't want to take the risk.
Though Daemon himself believed Corlys to be a brilliant child, blessed by the Seven, there were far too many who may believe the opposite for Daemon's comfort. Far too often, bright children who were too smart were feared and thought witches of some kind, granted magical and unholy knowledge by some demons from the Seven Hells.
Such superstitions were quite rare amongst the educated, yet Daemon did not think highly enough of his peers to believe them all to be educated. Quite the opposite actually. Many could not even read and they believed far too much in the dogma of the Faith.
Daemon may have regained his faith in the Seven with the miracle that was Corlys, but he remained skeptical of the Faith itself, the organization, and its dogmas. Old habits die hard, and none who had lived through the Faith Militant Uprising on the side of the Targaryens would ever be able to fully trust the Faith ever again. He certainly did not trust the Faith to know of his grandson's genius yet, if ever.
Corlys was not merely a prodigious intellect. He was a very charismatic and charming boy that already showed signs of being a great leader one day. When he was not dreaming up some grand new schemes or invention, Daemon's precocious grandson spent the remainder of his time socializing. There was a certain charisma about the boy that allowed him to attract friends, from all walks of life. His brothers idolized him, and Corlys personally knew the names of many of their servants and guards.
Daemon personally did not approve very much of his grandson socializing with the commoners overly much but he also knew that even if he forbade it, his grandson would find some way around his restriction anyway.
"You would be surprised how much loyalty you could earn from the smallfolk simply by knowing their names and inquiring after their wellbeing from time to time, Grandfather," the boy had said when he had made his disapproval clear.
Daemon could not help but concede seeing how much the people of Driftmark had come to adore the young heir of House Velaryon. At the very least, his grandson was earning the loyalty of his future subjects.
At times Corlys felt too perfect. All things he sought to learn or pursue seemed to come to him effortlessly, and he seemed to always know what to do or have some wild plan or invention that sounded nonsensical at first but would end up working brilliantly. Daemon would confess that he was envious and proud of that in equal measure. Corlys seemed larger than life, which was ridiculous for a boy not even ten, but there was no other way to describe it. It was why Daemon always enjoyed watching Corlys in the training yard.
Despite his excellence in many diverse fields, Corlys struggled in the yard. That was not to say that he was lacking martially or that he was unable to learn and master his training in arms and combat, far from it. However, compared to how he seemed so effortlessly ahead in so many other fields and areas of expertise, his progress in his martial training was surprisingly average.
In a way Daemon liked that. If one was good at everything, they would not have the strength of character needed to push themselves to the limits, to challenge themselves to overcome. Those who struggled were stronger than those that did not.
What Corlys lacked in natural skill and strength in arms, he more than made up for it in his unrelenting determination and unwillingness to give up. Though Daemon doubted Corlys would ever be the finest sword in the Realm, with enough dedicated training and practice, he would be more than able to hold his own on the battlefield. That unyielding will would serve him well later in life.
As would his ability to delegate. Corlys was destined to lead, to command, and he was brilliant at it. He need not be the finest sword on the battlefield so long as he could command those swords and lead them to victory.
Still as he watched his grandson struggle to lift his sword after a long morning of practice, Daemon was reminded of how young he was. The boy was only nine and yet Daemon had already begun to rely upon and treat him as if he was a man grown. He would have to remember to let the boy stay a boy for a little while longer, let him enjoy his youth while it lasted.
The Seven having mercy, it would be decades until Corlys had to take up the mantle of Lord of the Tides. When that time came, Daemon was sure that the lessons he learned now in this yard, in his solar with him, and all his other intellect and knowledge, would empower Corlys to weather any storm that would face their house.
Change was coming to the world, Daemon could feel it in his bones and he knew in his heart that Corlys would be the one to bring that change. His faith in him would not waver however. The boy had already proven to him that he was the perfect heir to entrust the Velaryon legacy to. The tides of fortune were fickle and treacherous, but Daemon truly believed that under Corlys, the Seahorse would ride to its highest tides yet.
Author's Note: If you hadn't noticed yet, the SI will not have a POV in this story. The story will be told from the perspectives of other characters except for the SI. This was a stylistic choice inspired mainly by the Everyoung Dragon (which was in turn inspired by Wearing Robert's Crown) but personally I feel the story I want to tell is better without the SI's direct point of view.
Anyway onto the chapter itself. Canonically, it was Daemon's second son and not his eldest that died of the Shivers but I decided to make that change to make it easier to explain why Daemon outlived his eldest son. Reminder that Corlys's grandfather, Daemon Velaryon, is the older brother of Alyssa Velaryon so Jaehaerys and Alysanne are his niece and nephew.
Daemon could perhaps be forgiven for assuming compasses were a new thing in general as no compass existed west of the Bone Mountains at the time though it is possible that Yi Ti already has them, same as China had them for millennia before Europe. On Earth, the compass was invented in Europe around 1190 AD and in China around 206 BC. As far as I could recall from reading the books and my endless perusal of the wiki, compasses are not used in Westeros and are never even mentioned in the books, so it is a rather low-hanging fruit. ASOIAF is really anachronistic, they have frigging telescopes but no compasses.
Physics 101, steel is a hard magnetic material meaning it is hard to magnetise but retains magnetism easily. Iron is the opposite, a soft magnetic material which is easily magnetised but also easily loses said magnetism.
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