Pain is a lesson that serves you well.
— Syrio Forel
***
“Up, cabin boy!” Ray’s booming voice, the second boatswain’s, rang across the deck and jolted Arthur awake from the stiff hammock slung in the hold.
“Coming!” the boy called back, scrambling upward.
Leaping deftly over coils of rope, crates, and scattered cargo, he reached the main deck in moments.
Sunlight blinded him for an instant before his eyes adjusted to the dazzling glitter of the sea.
It was his third or perhaps fourth day aboard the Black Betha.
The days had begun to blur together into a single chain of events.
Much had changed since Matthos, the captain’s son, had hauled him from the freezing water.
Arthur had never imagined he would become a cabin boy aboard a galley of the royal fleet commanded by Stannis Baratheon, Master of Ships.
Yet when Captain Davos Seaworth, known throughout the realm as the Onion Knight, had offered him the chance to disembark on Dragonstone and find his way back to King’s Landing, Arthur had done everything in his power to prove he could be useful aboard ship.
He had thrown himself at every task he could find, pestering sailors and officers alike with offers to help.
In the end, Davos had assigned the eager boy to Ray, the second boatswain, a seasoned sellsword who had decided to give the lad a chance.
The knight himself had once seized an opportunity with both hands and understood the foundling’s motives better than most.
Had no one given him a chance, who could say whether a common cabin boy aboard the Wandering Cat would ever have risen so far?
Yet doubts still gnawed at him.
The orders Stannis Baratheon had entrusted to him, refusing to trust them to ravens, could mean only one thing.
War.
And their ship would not escape it.
If war was coming, they would sail straight into it, and that was no place for a boy.
“Arkt, your duty today is scrubbing the deck and helping with the stores!” Ray barked without turning around.
“Aye, ser!” Arthur answered, picking up a bucket and mop.
The sea air carried the mingled scents of salt and tar, the latter worked deep into the planks to protect them from the water.
The deck hummed with life.
Sailors hauled on ropes, soldiers traveling with them drilled beneath the watchful eyes of their officers, and near the stern Ser Davos spoke quietly with his first mate.
“Oi, cabin boy.”
Matthos appeared at Arthur’s side, grinning.
“Scrub faster.
Better get used to it if you want to become a sailor.”
“I am getting used to it,” Arthur replied, attacking the deck with determination.
“It’s just…
different.”
“Then get used to different,” Matthos snorted.
“Everyone goes through it.
Do well, and I’ll give you a lesson with a sword this evening.”
“Really?”
Arthur found himself scrubbing twice as hard.
The day aboard the Black Betha rolled onward like the steady beating of waves against her hull.
Arthur worked diligently, imagining a sword in his hands and practicing the strikes Matthos would teach him later.
His movements grew quicker, and thoughts of the coming lesson lifted his spirits despite the blazing sun, the cutting wind, and the foul smell of fish guts left from the sailors’ catch.
“Careful, cabin boy.
You’ll scrub a hole clean through the deck.”
A passing boatswain chuckled.
His raspy voice carried a note of good-natured amusement.
“If that’s all it takes to motivate you, perhaps I ought to promise fencing lessons every day.”
“Do it!” Arthur shot Ray an eager look.
“Well…
Matthos is enough for now.” He smiled despite himself.
“But if you can beat our sailor Seaworth, I’ll give you a few lessons of my own.
Understand, cabin boy?”
“Aye, ser.
Beat Seaworth.”
Arthur tried to imitate a military tone he had heard somewhere.
Ray finally burst out laughing, wiping tears from his eyes.
Arthur smiled awkwardly as well once he realized what he had actually said.
He still did not quite know how to react to the older sailors’ jokes, but he could feel himself becoming part of the noisy, living thing that was a ship’s crew.
When the sun reached its zenith, a bell rang sharply, followed by a cry from across the deck.
“Dinner’s ready!”
The announcement triggered immediate activity.
Sailors moved toward the galley as though driven by a single command.
Ray waved Arthur over.
“Come on, lad.
Leave the mop.
Eat while you’ve got the chance.
Don’t expect luxury later.”
The galley was cramped, but the aroma of hot stew and boiled fish made it feel almost sacred.
Arthur squeezed his way toward a great iron pot, filled a wooden bowl, and settled against a wall.
Matthos dropped down beside him, devouring his portion.
“Eat more, Arkt.” He winked.
“You’ll be spent by evening if you don’t fill your belly properly.
Go back for seconds.”
Several years older than Arthur, Matthos had clearly taken responsibility for the boy he had rescued, and Arthur was genuinely grateful for it.
He nodded, but commotion on the upper deck distracted him.
Through the open hatch, he saw lookouts shouting from the masthead and pointing toward the horizon.
“What is it?” Arthur asked, craning his neck.
“We’ll find out.”
Matthos rose to his feet, leaving his bowl behind.
When Arthur followed him onto the deck, his heart quickened.
Dark silhouettes of countless islands had appeared on the horizon.
He recognized them almost immediately.
The Stepstones.
He had heard sailors in the harbor tell stories about them many times.
“It is said the archipelago was formed when the sea swallowed the Arm of Dorne, the land bridge that once joined Westeros and Essos.”
Matthos spoke with the confidence of someone who knew what he was talking about.
Though merely a sailor, he was the son of a captain who had not neglected his education.
Arthur enjoyed speaking with him because Matthos always seemed to know something interesting.
Arthur stopped beside the rail and stared at the distant outlines of the Stepstones.
The islands looked grim, like the bones of some ancient beast cast upon the waves.
Dark cliffs covered in thorny scrub rose sharply from the sea, creating treacherous shoals and narrow channels.
“Arkt, you can admire the scenery later,” Ray called sternly. Get faster updates on g.com.
“Get moving.
Go help Pol.
He’s at the bow.
Prepare for maneuvering.”
“Aye!”
Arthur hurried off.
Work was already underway at the bow.
Matthos and several sailors hauled on ropes, preparing the galley to pass through a narrow strait.
Caution was essential here.
The waters around the Stepstones were infamous not only for dangerous currents but also for hidden reefs.
“Pol, Ray sent me…”
“The cabin boy?” Pol nodded toward a loose line.
“Come here, then.”
The stocky, bearded sailor probably could have managed the task alone.
“Take hold.
When I give the word…
pull!”
Arthur seized the rope with both hands and put all his strength into it.
For a moment he felt like part of a vast and finely tuned machine: the crew of the Black Betha.
Every movement mattered.
Every word mattered.
The lives of everyone aboard depended on working together.
“Port helm!”
Captain Davos’s firm voice carried from the stern.
The wheel spun, and the galley turned smoothly into the narrow passage between two islands.
Empty cave mouths stared down from the shore like hollow eyes, while birds darted among the crags, filling the air with piercing cries.
Arthur worked as Pol had shown him, all the while devouring the landscape with hungry eyes.
The cliffs truly did resemble steps in places.
He found it difficult to look away.
Ancient stone walls, scarred by time and dotted with patches of green, seemed to beckon him with their mystery.
Birds wheeling overhead cast shifting shadows upon the churning water.
And there was something else.
The same sensation he had felt upon seeing Dragonstone.
Something was pulling at him.
Pulling him toward the great caves visible among the cliffs.
“Watch where you’re staring, lad!” Pol warned.
“Keep hold of that rope or it’ll drag you overboard.”
Arthur frowned and tightened his grip.
The galley continued through the passage with painstaking care.
Then another cry came from the masthead.
“Ship to starboard!”
Every man on deck froze.
A/N:
While everyone else is waiting for updates, com / Captain_Lag (remove the spaces)