Aegon's 293, Westeros, King's Landing, capital of House Baratheon.
One tall figure and one smaller slipped onto the Street of Steel and followed its winding path upward. Even Visenya's Hill seemed to stretch on endlessly. Along the way were smiths hammering beside blazing forges, free knights haggling over suits of armor, and gray-haired ironmongers hawking old, worn blades from their carts. The street was loud and crowded, a constant churn of voices and motion, all in the pursuit of coin and reputation.
"King's Landing is like a spider's web. Only a spider can truly move through it," the hooded man leading the way thought with quiet satisfaction. Across the Narrow Sea, he and his allies held the last remnant of the Dragonlord's line. And here in Westeros, who would ever imagine that he also held the stag's bastard son? Once that secret, that great secret buried deep within the Red Keep, came to light, the rewards would be immeasurable.
The tall boy following behind watched the hooded man's back, his gaze holding both curiosity and resignation. His face was still youthful, yet his eyes were different, carrying a calm and maturity far beyond his years.
The hooded man thought nothing of it. A bastard whose father was absent and whose mother had died young would naturally grow bitter and prematurely hardened. It never crossed his mind that the boy carried the soul of a grown man.
Gendry even caught sight of Lannister knights in crimson cloaks and half-lion helms. House Lannister seemed to have its reach everywhere in King's Landing.
They climbed higher, and the buildings grew larger and more imposing. The more famous the smith, the grander his residence. At the top of the hill stood a particularly tall structure.
Tobho Mott's shop dwarfed every other on the Street of Steel. Built of timber and lime plaster, it rose high enough to overlook the entire road below. Two massive doors of ebony and weirwood were carved with a hunting scene. On either side stood stone knights in red armor, posed like a griffin and a unicorn standing guard.
"Quick, pour wine for the Lord!" The sharp-eyed, petite maid took in the leader's fine clothing at a glance and immediately hurried inside to summon the shop's owner, the finest smith in King's Landing. The man at the front was powerfully built, broad-shouldered. His cloak was heavy purple velvet trimmed with silver, clearly expensive, though his hood hid his face, revealing only a brown beard threaded with red.
Tobho Mott wore a black velvet coat, silver thread stitched into hammer patterns along the sleeves. A heavy silver chain hung around his neck, set with a sapphire as large as a pigeon's egg.
"My lord, if you're looking for a new suit of armor, you've come to the right place," Tobho said proudly. "I guarantee my work is unmatched in King's Landing. You're welcome to compare it. Others make armor. I make art. I've served many highborn clients, Lord Renly among them." He was not boasting without cause; he had once trained as an apprentice in Qohor.
"Master Tobho, I desire neither armor nor helm," came a muffled voice from beneath the hood, deep and resonant, carrying the greedy lilt of a Tyroshi accent.
"I wish to place this child here as your apprentice." The hooded man set down a small pile of gold. They were not the familiar golden dragons, but coins from across the Narrow Sea. Gold was still gold.
Tobho's eyes moved to the boy. He was tall for his age, with coal-black hair and a striking pair of blue eyes.
He did his best to suppress the sudden surge of unease. He had seen Renly, Robert, and Stannis with his own eyes. The resemblance to Renly was unmistakable, yet Renly could not possibly have a bastard this old. Stannis was even more impossible. That left only one answer.
"My lord, I want no trouble," Tobho said hesitantly. The hooded man answered by placing down a second share of gold.
"Say nothing, Tobho." After a moment's thought, Tobho nodded and accepted the boy. "This child is my apprentice now. Whoever he was before coming here has nothing to do with me."
"Excellent. I trust you'll keep this secret," the hooded man said, satisfied, and turned to leave.
"Thank you, my lord," Gendry said.
"I hope you take to this life. It's better than running errands in some tavern," the hooded man replied, walking away without looking back.
"I know it's you, Spider," Gendry thought to himself. The eight-legged spider's talent for disguise truly was second to none. A soul from another world, and yet he had once again become a blacksmith's apprentice in A Song of Ice and Fire.
At least Gendry's looks and strength were exceptional. The whoremonger and the fat king had once been the Laughing Storm reborn, after all. House Baratheon had always produced broad-shouldered, clean-cut men with clear eyes and an undeniable, rugged charm.
Gendry accepted his fate. Born in a tavern, he lived quietly as a tavern errand boy. It was the safest path he could take.
House Lannister's influence in King's Landing was immense, and he had no wish to end up like those brothers and sisters who had been quietly eliminated. Besides, the king was never a man who cared about family or children. Once he climbed into bed, all vows and promises were forgotten. Bastards mattered even less. That was how things remained until the ever-watchful Spider noticed him and sent him to a blacksmith's shop.
"What's your name, boy?" Tobho asked.
"Gendry. I don't have a surname."
"No one cares about that. King's Landing is full of people without names, barely scraping by. You're lucky to be with me. Come on, boy, I'll show you where the work's done." Tobho gestured and led him onward.
He took Gendry out through the back door, across a long, narrow courtyard, and into a spacious stone-built barn where the real work of the smithy was carried out.
The moment Tobho, the weaponsmith, pushed open the door, a blast of heat rushed out, making Gendry feel as though he were stepping straight into a fire dragon's maw. Forges roared in every corner, and the air was thick with smoke and the sharp stink of sulfur. The foreman glanced up briefly, just long enough to wipe the sweat from his brow, before returning to his hammer and tongs. Bare-chested apprentices worked hard at the bellows, muscles straining with each pull.
Gendry took it all in, finding it new and fascinating. It was clearly hard labor, but even so, learning a craft like this was far better than running errands in a tavern.
"Blacksmithing is heavy work, but it's skilled work too," Tobho said proudly. "Learn this trade properly, and knights and lords alike will come begging you to make armor and helmets for them. There's never enough to go around." As the words left his mouth, though, he hesitated. This boy's background was far too sensitive. Even keeping his head down and forging iron would not be entirely simple.
Still, Tobho called the foreman over and drew him aside.
"This child is my new apprentice. From now on, you'll be in charge of him. Don't give him work that's too heavy right from the start."
And just like that, Gendry's life as an apprentice began.