Yorbert Royce stood in silence for a long moment after Rodrik's startling demonstration of the compass. The small device, no larger than a child's toy, held power far beyond its simple appearance, and Rodrik's explanation, though delivered in a surprisingly mature and serious tone for a boy of four, had shaken the seasoned lord to his core.
After the initial moment of silence, Yorbert slowly and quietly took a seat on the wooden chair in Rodrik's room. His stern, battle-worn face betrayed the slightest glimmer of hesitation. He took a breath and looked Rodrik straight in the eyes.
"Before I make any assumptions, my lord, I would like you to answer some questions. And once we're done, I would like you to accompany me to the sept. There are certain things… dark things… I must be sure of. Would you be willing?"
Rodrik nodded firmly. "Yes, Lord Royce. I understand."
Yorbert leaned forward slightly, hands clasped. "Are you truly Rodrik Arryn, or someone… something else? Tell me truthfully. Whoever you are, you are now the Lord of the Vale, and I have sworn to serve that title loyally. But I need to know to plan for the future."
Rodrik met his gaze without flinching. "I am Rodrik. No one else. But something did happen. When I was sick with fever, I… saw the Seven. They told me it wasn't my time. That I had work to do. The Smith gave me a blessing—a gift of knowledge—to help people. But," he added with solemnity, "they took my memories in exchange. The Crone said all things have a price, and they are bound by the old laws."
Yorbert sat still, not replying immediately. Rodrik could sense the doubt in his eyes.
They went together to the sept. The priest anointed Rodrik with holy water, murmuring prayers in the old tongue. Rodrik showed no reaction. Yorbert watched closely, waiting for even a flicker of demonic resistance. None came.
Still, Yorbert's brow furrowed. He turned to Rodrik. "I don't believe you met the Seven. Not yet. But you are… something."
Rodrik looked him in the eye. "Then let me give you a revelation, something they told me to prove myself. The King Viserys's first child will be a daughter. They will name her Rhaenyra. She will be born within the next year."
Yorbert sat in silence for a while. Then he stood. "Very well, my lord. I'm not convinced… not fully. But I will await the birth. And in the meantime, I will look into this 'compass' of yours. Perhaps it will be of use."
Rodrik smiled slightly. "There's more." He has prepaid for a surprise if everything went smoothly. He turned to his small desk, drawing a rough sketch with ink and quill. "This is a new type of ship. It's called a galleon. It has multiple decks, three to four masts, square-rigged sails with a high sterncastle for added storage and protection. Its hull is broad and strong, allowing it to carry heavy loads and still maintain speed on the sea."
He pointed at the drawing—its side view depicted a large vessel, with outlines of cargo spaces, rows of cannons (to be removed in peace-time versions), and multiple sails.
"With this design," Rodrik said, "and the compass guiding it, we can lead the world in trade. We'll have faster ships, able to carry more goods, and reach distant shores without getting lost."
Yorbert leaned in, examining the sketch. "If this works, Vale's ports will see more coin than they've ever known."
Rodrik nodded. "But no one can know this came from me. If asked, say you've hired a brilliant man of science, someone who prefers to remain anonymous."
Yorbert chuckled under his breath, then gave a short bow. "As you command, my lord. May the Seven keep your secrets… and your ships afloat."