Prologue

"A man is overdue on his debts, a man must pay." said the man clad in golden chain, his ornate golden handleded dagger grasped firmly in his hand, pressed against Jeh'to Karth's neck.

"A man knows of no such debt, a man implores an explanation void of hostility." said Jeh'to, his body pressed against the gloomy grey stone adorning his household, as his family was tossed aside by the assailant, looking back in fear and tremble.

The man in golden chains would hear none of it, pressing his knife closer to the family man's neck, not eager to further explain himself. "A man will give answer for his theft from the Weeping Woman, a man has stolen a death from the fair lady, a death is required in return." he said, his eyes widening and his blade starting to flay the skin of Jeh'to before hearing behind him a rustle and snapping his sight back, discovering the little boy of Jeh'to has stabbed him in the abdomen with a kitchen knife, in fear for his own father's life if he had not braved to act.

He fell loudly to the ground, his chains tussling against the pave, making the sound of a million coins as he half-lifelessly lays there, his dagger still attached to the grasp of his palm, he makes a last effort to turn around, leaving the mortal plane with his last words "A debt has been repaid, the Weeping Woman has taken what is rightfully hers, but the boy is now of service to the many faced God."

The boy now having scurried back to his mother as Jeh'to kicks the dagger aside and verifies the man's lifeless corpse. He turns to his son, donning a mortified expression and he falls on his knees. "Jaqen..." he starts whispering in trembling fear. "A boy must leave this house and take the man's dagger with him, a boy is not welcome here anymore, a killer boy has no place here, his place is with the many faced God now" he says, reaching for the dagger and giving it to his son before getting up to open the door. "A boy must seek his own path now."

A statue of Old

It had only been a month before the little boy arrived to the free city of Braavos, looking up in awe as the ship he bargained entry to passed under the Titan of Braavos, a tall pale stone statue adorned with details made of bronze, glittering in the sun's shimmer. It was a monument of old, the hallmark of Braavosi coulture, so much so they put the image of the stone warrior on their coin. He had never seen such a sight, surely a young boy from the poor city of Lorath had never met gaze against structures so big yet so intricate.

The ship docked not after long, and the payment the boy had promised to the captain of said ship was naught but the dagger he had taken with him, the dagger he had claimed in the ways of old from the man who threatened his father's life. He saw no value in the knife, his little knowledge of the instruments of war told him that all knives are the same, why should this one hold more value than the kitchen knife he had used to pay the debts. The captain however, had a keen eye for treasures of the world, having traveled far and wide and learned that whatever shines may not be gold but it's worth a lot to the right buyer. The boy gave the dagger to the captain, willingly parting with it, looking strangely at the captain as he inspected the blade up and down.

"If I was an honest man, boy, I would have given you my service for a decade in return for this dagger, alas, all you wanted was passage to Braavos. Here we are, stay safe in your travels." he said as he showed the boy the way to the docks off the ship.

The boy simply replied "This one has no need of your implied treasures, you may keep your dagger, but know that death follows it."

He had wandered the city for a day now, sleeping in alleyways and begging for bread on the edges of the free market. He held no knowledge of where he needed to go, or what his father meant when he talked about his service to the many faced God. He simply knew he was not welcome to his previous life anymore, he had a purpose to seek for, and a debt to repay. He heard some merchants talking about the many faced God, upon inquiring of them they would simply shoe him away, he was after all nothing but a beggar boy in their eyes.

He eventually came across a fish merchant on the edge of the market, old and donning nothing but a grey ripped apart mantle. This one seemed more eager to have a conversation, as he barely got any clients, compliments of the smell his fish surrounded themselves in, reeking in all directions the wind would carry.

"I have seen you wandering these streets for hours upon hours of the day young boy, what is it in this market that interests you so much? Are you perhaps a thief, waiting for the right opportunity, or simply a boy with nowhere to go, strolling down the pavement hoping somebody will give you work?" He said, sat on a rough boulder which brought discomfort upon first glance, his face red and full of blemishes, marks of all kinds, scars of battles against the sun's booming presence.

The boy simply sat next to him, looking out to sea, admiring the sounds of the waves, the light sprinkling they produced when they met against the sharp rocks of the market docks. It had been minutes before he replied. "This one is no thief. This one is not looking for work either. I have been told that this one's destiny waits somewhere in this town, yet no man will help this one on the right path."

The old man turns his attention to the boy, taking a stick in hand and swatting away the flies amassing upon his fish. "Ah, the boy is from Lorath, long way you have come from home, alone no doubt. Tell me, young boy, what is this destiny you speak of?"

"This one made a mistake." The young boy says, turning finally to the old man. "This one took a life in this one's own home, a life belonging to the many faced god, and now this one's life lies in chain and service to the many faced God."

The whooshing sounds of the stick being flailed around stopped, as the man turned his complete attention to the boy. "The killer boy from Lorath, you have been expected dear child, we feared we would have to come deliver you ourselves." he says before turning away and motioning his hand onto his face, turning back to face the child in an entirely different appearance. The boy found the man's face peculiar, as his face was now young, much younger. One side of his hair reflecting the color of fire, bright and vivid red, only contrasted further by the opposite side of the man's hair, bathed in pale white.

The boy was yet again taken aback, standing from his position and taking a step back, not daring to approach. "A man is not who he says he was, a man is no merchant of the sea. This one had head tales on the ship, the captain and the men would talk of the servants of the many faced God, the way they would change appearance in an instant. This one didn't believe in those stories, wrongly so as this one has come to understand."

The man simply laughed, standing up and starting to walk away. "Follow me young boy, your service must start soon, as you are in debt for the rest of your lifetime now. We must make way for the House of Black and White."