Hey, I Ruin Stories! Chapter 38

Chapter 38: Crow’s Eye (½)


[Slaver’s Bay]


{Mateo of the Faceless Men}


“What… kind of monster are you?”


No sorcerer, no human should be able to fight in that condition. No human should be able to defeat the Faceless Men without a weapon, and even a sorcerer should fall against the techniques of the Faceless.


“I should be the one asking you that question.” He asked standing with his arms slashed, stabbed right through the two bones —radius and ulna— yet he stood without flinching. “No man should be able to move at that speed.”


The daggers fell short in front of him. Even the seventh dagger was lost against him, and poison seemed useless.


“No man should be able to heal such wounds,” He healed slashes and stabs in seconds. Closing wounds right as they opened. And never have I met or heard of a sorcerer capable of it all before today.


The entire strategy of the Sorcerers was to confront enemies from afar without incurring harm.


But that just wasn't what he did.


“I have faced warlocks, blood riders, and even assassins.” His eyes were not those of a sorcerer; he was someone who had faced blades to the neck before. “But none have come close to even leaving a scratch.”


His body had toughened, as if he wore invisible armor. Blades felt dull against his flesh, and when they did cut him, he recovered in an instant.


“So, who are you with?” He asked with a calmness that did not suit the situation. “The Thirteen? Or some other Slavers?”


Thirteen? The council of Qarth?


He was mistaking me, or it might even be a ploy to get my identity.


“Questions without answering ones of your own,” My blade was coated with the strongest poison. There was no point in saving it if I could not escape him. “Those are not the teachings of sorcerers.”


“Attacking an innocent man who helped you was uncalled for as well.” He mocked, dodging my blade. “And poison is futile. No matter how sharp the venom is, it just will not do.”


Curses… He is faster, no, he is using magic to be fast.


Never had I seen anyone outside the Faceless Men using magic in such ways. No sorcerer except us uses magic to enhance physical capabilities.


Just who was he?


“And a sole sorcerer appearing in the middle of Slaver’s Bay and being aware of the Faceless Men isn't concerning?” My wound was severe; I had to end this before I tended to it.


“The Faceless was a reference to you wearing fake skin,” His eyebrows furrowed into a frown, “And you were the one injured and being picked up on.”


“What is your purpose for being here?” He didn't know about the Faceless? That seemed like a lie. “Sorcerers never roam alone without a purpose.”


“Westeros.” He answered, “My destination is Westeros.”


He… was not here for me?


“You are injured.” He lowered his hand, “I have no intention of fighting an assassin such as you, or involving myself with this Faceless that you speak of.” He still carried the frown, “Leave, and I shall let you live.”


We were at a stalemate, no, he had the advantage. I could try my trump card, but something told me he would be able to withstand it too, given he has faced everything I threw at him without breaking a sweat.


If we fight with everything we have, I might die.


“Where is the certainty that I won't be attacked the moment I turn my back?”


“The same as you not attacking me if I do it.” He had fully lowered his hands, but he still stood vigilant.


This, finally, had me lowering my hands as well. Vigilant but not offensive.


Given the chance, he could have killed me.


But he didn't.


The best choice would have been to kill me and escape. The Faceless did not believe in revenge; we believed in the success of our missions. And if I had died, they would have sent someone else on the mission rather than to send someone to avenge me.


And despite it all, he did not kill me.


Even when I was weakened and he had all the power to take my life.


So… We both backed off, at the same time and without killing the other.


Hoping to leave the other to their own way.


But alas.


…

…


Why are we standing here together?


Both of us were staring at the sea from the same wooden platform.


“What about you leaving?”


“I am a man, not a god. I cannot vanish from here and appear in Westeros.” He certainly wasn't interested in talking to me. If not for his injury, he would have found another way.


As for me? I decided not to kill him.


He was certainly someone who could and might kill me in my sleep, but he was far too interesting, with unexplainable skills that made me intrigued.


“Pray tell, you will not be taking the same ship as I?”


My question made him stare at me from the corner of his eye. “I would love to vanish from here, but someone caused a massive enough ruckus in Qarth that almost all ferries and ships are unwilling to visit Slaver's Bay for at least a few days.


“And how do you know it was me who was responsible?”


He stared straight at the sea as I asked the question.


“News travels with the wind, and I see no other sorcerer capable of taking down the council of Thirteen. Besides, you brought up the Thirteen before I did.”


Fair.


After that talk, both of us stood on the wooden platform until the sun lowered. There were no signs of ships moving our way, no men carrying cargo or people.


I knew Qarth was a trade hub but did not expect messing with it to create such a stale environment around the sea.


Minutes turned to hours, and the sun fully submerged itself into the sea, leaving darkness and an unlit pier.


“Meereen might have ships still roaming. You may want to go there if you want to reach Westeros soon.”


This made me look at him. “And you? Wouldn't it be better for you to take that path, given you are on some sort of mission?”


Each time I mentioned the word mission, he scowled. But he didn't say a word; instead, he tended to his wound, applying some sort of herb that he plucked from who knows where.


“I cannot,” he finally answered. “I am not in a state to roam there without getting into some mess. If this injury didn't exist, I might have. But not now.”


He finally stood up after applying the herbs. “Yunkai and Astapor have heavy trade sanctions imposed on them recently, so their security is much stricter to prevent illegal goods from being transferred.”


So, he was pretty much stuck here until he got a ship or his wounds healed.


As for me? I just wanted to get a look at how these ships picked illegal immigrants and goods from here.


Yes, the place I stood at was one that was devised for illegal trades. As per why the cities took no action against it?


Simple, they couldn't.


These were protected by pirates and many wealthy merchants. And the existence of this place also prevented the cities from being plagued with illegal activities.


But as we stood contemplating about the ships, something weird happened.


“Fog?”


In the darkness of the night, when visibility was low, our vision was reduced further as a sudden, unannounced fog surrounded the wharf.


And weirdly enough, this did not feel natural.


This place did not accommodate fog, at least not in this temperature.


“Something is wrong.” Even the man next to me sensed it. “This is not natural.”


Magic? But who would cast it during the night and for what?


Illegal trades were a day-to-day occurrence here, and they wouldn’t do it just for their ship to pass by.


Unless…


Unless the ship was unusual.


“It's…” The Faceless stood aghast, staring at the fog. “I can see it…”


This made me squint my eyes, fan away the fog a little with magic, and use fire magic to lighten up the place.


And doing all that allowed me to see something interesting.


A ship.


A massive warship, pitch black, vanished into the darkness of the night. Silent despite the tides, haunting and ominous.


“There are more than one ship.” I expressed, seeing the shadows of the other, smaller but similarly painted ships projected on the fog. “What are they?”


Warships out of nowhere, hidden by magic.


“Crow’s Eye…”


But he knew, the man next to me knew what it was.


“Why is he here?”


The man looked… nervous?


“What is Crow’s Eye?” I asked, but all I got for a response was a single word answer.


“Trouble.”


Unfortunately, by then I had already signaled them with my fire magic —hoping to catch the wave to Westeros.


…

…

[The Silence]


{Euron Crow’s Eye Greyjoy}


The sea was calm, far too calm.


The sea was beautiful when it was unsteady, when it wailed, and when it raged.


The winds spoke of chaos, but the sea remained calm. The execution of the Qartheen Thirteen hung in the air, and the sea was calm from fear. Not a single ship swam the sea, not a single man treaded the waves.


And I moved through it all.


Balon was unwell.


But that wasn't my worry. He has always been weak, pathetic, and scared.


My worry was him ruining the name of Greyjoy. His sons are disappointments, and handing over the house to them would cause a great downfall.


And yet, I had bigger pictures to look at.


The Watch, the Wall.


I had to get to it.


The night was cold, and it craved chaos.


Yet I kept moving.


Expecting nothing from the calmness of the Slaver’s Bay.


Yet, after traversing for long —I finally saw something.


Something unexpected.


“Turn the ship to the right!”


My voice echoed around, the crew rushing to follow my command.


Fire, light.


It was a signal.


Someone wanted me to find them.


“Looks like there might be a little chaos to enjoy.”


After all, the sea was never meant to be calm.


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[[A/N: Sorry about the chapter being short, next chapter will be normal or longer.


P.S. We will be in Westeros in Chapter 40.]]