The two weeks since the pirate attack had been difficult for the town. Many families had lost members and some of the sea guard would have to retire due to their injuries. The day after the battle, Captain Lizwi had gathered the dejected guard unit and informed them the mission was a success, that none of the pirates had made it to the town and that was due to the work of everyone here and those no longer with us. I’ll always cherish how he said that our fallen brethren would never be forgotten and that it was our duty to do their portion as well moving forward. Lizwi’s words blew away the despondent aura surrounding the guard unit and allowed them to get past their grief. The town mourned the dead in the same way we’ve always done by celebrating life instead. For a full week, the islanders danced and drunk while partaking in the pleasures of the flesh casting away our pain and choosing to be joyous instead. My father made sure the families of the bereaved were taken care off and that they would not want for a thing. While the priestesses carved the names of those who passed onto the tall trees making them a part of the village for eternity.

I’d spent the remainder of time since the attack practising my Common Tongue for the upcoming journey to Oldtown. My mentor for the language was Jahi’s father, Ahia a former merchant who regularly travelled to Westeros for trade. My lessons with him had begun when I was ten and had first told my parents I wanted to study at the citadel. Through his tutorship I had become adept at the language and we were currently going over the differences between highborn and lowborn speech.

“Differences in status are very prevalent in Westeros and depending on how you speak, the opposite party will either look down on you or feel an affinity with you. So rather than becoming used to only one type of speech, become fluent in both so you can switch between them. The lowborn or smallfolk as they call them tend to clip their words saying m’lord instead of my lord whereas the nobility will pronounce each letter. It’s also not a simple matter of speaking a certain way to the nobility and another to the commoners. When I was a merchant, I would often communicate with the nobility, but I would have to be careful of my speech. Too informal and the noble would likely not respect me leading to them trying to short change me. Too formal and I could find myself in trouble for imitating them due to what they term my low birth. The same duality exists with the commoners, if you want to befriend them its best to speak in a similar way to them but if you wish to command them then speak like a noble. Clear?” Ahia lectured in length.

“That it’s going to be difficult, yes I am” I quipped back.

The door swung open as Jahi marched in and dropped a blunted spear on the table, completely disturbing my lesson notes. The fact that he was moving suggesting his injury had fully healed and he was enthusiastic for that spar. Though Mentor Ahia had taught me for two years already, the relationship between me and Jahi had never been a close one. Jahi, who is currently turning twenty, has been a permanent fixture in the sea guard for the last four years. When I first began studying under his father he was already a seventeen-year-old guard, this meant we had very little in common and often ignored each other not out of malice but simply indifference. After the pirate attack, the other members of the unit had told him about my part in his rescue, resulting in him feeling grateful to me. The next time I visited Mentor Ahia’s house, Jahi attempted to mumble out his gratitude which I promptly put a stop to by teasing him about his injury and insinuating that a twelve-year-old would be stronger than him. Mainly because I couldn’t stand the awkward environment and just wanted to return to how we used to be. Jahi then made it his mission to defeat me in a spar and working twice as hard as anyone else on his rehabilitation.

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“Right now?” I asked exasperatedly knowing I had little chance of getting out of this.

A quick nod was all I received, and he was out of the door as fast as he had entered it. Looking over to my mentor, I silently asked for permission which he also gave with a quick nod, a familial quirk they both share. Standing a few feet across from Jahi in the clearing outside of mentor’s house, I study my opponent carefully. Jahi has light umber skin, chiselled features and high cheek bones. His eyes unique among the islanders, are a deep golden colour which shines in the midday sun. A form of atavism passed down from his grandmother which hailed from Naath, an island to the east of here. His tall muscular frame is completed with his shaved head giving him an assertive presence. His clothing choices are simple, only ever being seen wearing the sea guard uniform.

The spar begun without a word between either of us. Knowing his greater experience and strength would make this a difficult battle, I focused on speed maintaining a high tempo from the outset of the battle. I sent a straight lunge to his body only for it to be blocked by the shaft of his spear. The difference in our strengths clear from the beginning as his block unbalanced me. Stepping back to regain my footing, I began circling him to find an opening. His effortless footwork meaning his spear was always between me and his body giving me no chance to attack. As if content he’d seen enough, Jahi began to move forwards, firing off large sweeping attacks. Dodging as many of his blows as I could, I searched desperately for an opening that I could use to gain a comeback. Almost as if testing me, the speed of his blows began to pick up and I was forced to block more and more of his attacks. The thought of a counter attack long gone from my mind, I focused on just remaining in the battle. My defence lasted until my arms were so numb from his attacks, I was no longer able to hold my spear.

Fatigued, I took a seat on the group as I attempted to catch my breath and rub some of the ache out of my hands. The sobering effect of the battle still playing on my mind, disavowing me of any false beliefs about my combat ability. The difference in strength between me and any consummate fighter is still too great, and I can only work hard to decrease it.

“A good battle for one so young, but your physical strength is still too lacking” Jahi sombrely noted.

Petulantly, I decided to ignore him. The silence dragging on even longer than I’d intended.

“We’ll have to keep up your training, when we’re in Oldtown” he coolly noted, while walking away.

The shock of his statement caused me to freeze for a moment, before I set off to dissuade him. My whole reason for going to Westeros being to stop whatever cataclysmic event is occurring. Even though it appears to be safe currently, the danger is genuine and scary.

“No point, he’s made his decision. I didn’t raise an ungrateful boy.” Interrupted my mentor.

Predicting correctly, I wasn’t yet satisfied, my mentor carries on “Whatever danger your facing, will be easier with him by your side.”

“I never said anything about danger” I declare

“Don’t take me for a fool boy, I’ve seen that look many times in the past” my mentor growls back, the implicit question not lost on him.

“If you want an old man’s advice, take whatever help you can get, it’s always the ones who go it alone that fail.” He affectionately reminds me, switching moods at the drop of a hat.

Content that I’ve listened to his advice, Mentor Ahia returns to his house and I can’t help but feel like it’s the first time I’ve seen him for who he is. The scholars have always maintained that travel makes a man and it is the sum of what you have seen that defines what you are. It is at no point in my life, that I have felt that to be truer than right now.