The cold sea and the warm sand marked the dividing line between two worlds.
When Eric Moore awoke in the orange glow of the setting sun, his first instinct was to confirm he was still alive.
He could feel hunger, exhaustion, and the cool sea breeze rustling against his skin—sensations of living that had been an impossible luxury during his fortnight in Valyria.
Comet lay beside him, its deep, even breaths bringing a profound sense of peace.
The wound on its leg had already scabbed over, its powerful regenerative trait hard at work.
Sunlight seemed to do the dragon good as well, casting a soft, warm sheen across its silver scales.
Eric was in no rush to move.
Drawing on the wild survival training from his past, he searched the fringe of the coastal jungle, gathering edible roots and berries before catching several plump seabirds with makeshift traps.
Using the primitive method of friction fire-starting, he built a campfire and roasted the birds until their fats sizzled.
It was the first real, untainted hot meal he had eaten since arriving in this world.
As food settled in his stomach, his physical energy and mental clarity rapidly returned.
He tossed the remaining bird bones to Comet.
Though the little creature was not fond of them, it begrudgingly crunched and swallowed them, gaining at least a bit of calcium.
Flashes of thought echoed from Comet into his mind—*hungry, metal, energy*.
Eric patiently soothed the dragon’s feelings.
*Don’t worry, little guy.
I’ll get you full soon enough.* The last time Comet’s dragon aura had enveloped his body, Eric had felt the Greyscale on his leg become suppressed.
Moreover, perhaps due to their blood bond, he felt some of Comet’s abilities bleeding into his own body.
Though vastly weakened in comparison, he could still feel his strength gradually increasing and his wounds healing faster.
A bold idea formed in Eric’s mind: he wanted to test whether Comet’s dragon aura could completely cure the Greyscale.
For the next two days, they remained on the beach.
Eric nursed his injuries and had Comet channel dragon aura through the wound infected by the Stone Men.
The results were noticeable.
While it could not eradicate the affliction completely just yet, he was confident that as Comet grew stronger, it would eventually purge the disease entirely.
Eric also prepared to enter human society.
He carefully washed and sorted the gold coins and jewels taken from the Dragonlord treasury.
Using his Valyrian steel sword, he trimmed his hair and beard, then scrubbed away most of the sulfur stink that seemed soaked into his bones using seawater and sand.
On the morning of the third day, once the wound on Comet’s leg had largely healed enough for short flights, Eric knew it was time.
He wrapped the bulk of the gold, silver, and jewels in animal pelts and secured them tightly to Comet’s saddle.
On his person, he carried only a small pouch of coins and gems, alongside a pack containing the Valyrian steel ingots and the smithing notes.
“Sorry to make you lie low for a bit, pal,” Eric muttered, patting Comet’s head as he directed it to fly into a cavernous, concealed rock cave along the shore that he had scouted earlier.
“Stay here, don’t wander off, and don’t make a sound.
Wait for me.
If you hear me call out in your heart, come find me.” Comet gave a low rumble of understanding.
With his greatest trump card safely stowed, Eric took a deep breath and began walking along the coastline toward civilization.
Before long, he came upon a small fishing village.
With a single gold coin, he traded with an old fisherman—who was left slack-jawed by such a fortune—for a coarse but clean linen robe typical of the locals, a pair of sturdy straw sandals, a skin of fresh water, and the most crucial piece of information: a single day’s trek west would bring him to Pentos, the Free City with pink walls, renowned for its wealth and trade.
Everything was proceeding according to plan.
Once Eric changed into the robe, tightly bound his Valyrian steel sword in cloth across his back, and pulled a wide hooded cloak over his face, he had transformed from a modern engineer into an unremarkable traveler from the East.
A day later, a grand city rose on the horizon.
Towering pink walls bathed in sunset, endless rows of towers and domes, a harbor crowded with a forest of masts—and an air thick with the chaotic medley of spices, seawater, and throngs of people.
Pentos!
Looking upon this scene overflowing with vitality, Eric felt a wave of emotion.
Compared to the dead, monochrome apocalyptic ruins of Valyria, this place was paradise.
Yet he did not dwell on nostalgia for long.
His gaze sharpened like a hawk’s as he began observing and analyzing the city.
He saw rich merchants dressed in fine silks alongside slaves in rags; he heard elegant poetry intertwined with bitter curses.
Splendor and filth, beauty and ugliness, bound together in a seamless tapestry.
*A place full of opportunity—and an equal measure of danger,* Eric assessed silently.
He did not linger in the common quarters or the bazaars, walking straight through the crowded streets toward the district of the rich and powerful, where the mansions grew grander and the streets broader and cleaner.
His target was clear: the manse of Magister Illyrio Mopatis.
He knew the fat magister was his first and most crucial pawn in entering this grand game of thrones.
The key to opening his doors lay inside his own pack.
But he also knew that desperation ruined a bargain.
Based on rumors picked up at the market, a plan was taking shape—one that would make the fat man come looking for him instead.
When night fell, Eric found a decent inn near the edge of the market and checked in.
Since arriving in this world, he had been constantly fighting or running.
After finishing a meal and laying down on a clean, comfortable bed, Eric mapped out his plan until his exhaustion finally caught up with him, lulling him into a deep sleep.