The shadow of the Titan loomed over the Sea Gate of Braavos.
Standing over a hundred feet tall, the giant stood at the natural gorge, its left leg crushing the wreckage of an enemy ship, its right arm holding high a longsword pointed toward the sky.
Whenever a ship passed beneath its crotch, the sentries in the watchtower would ring the warning bells, and beacon fires would ignite within the Titan's hollow eye sockets.
That was the millennium-old rule of Braavos: any visitor must bow their head.
Until a pale gold shadow swept in from the southern sea; at first, it was just a small, unusual cloud on the horizon, but it quickly expanded, blotting out the afternoon sunlight.
When the lookouts at the Port of Braavos finally saw the true form of that shadow, the terrified blast of horns echoed throughout the city.
A dragon.
Three-headed, pale gold, with a wingspan wide enough to cover half the canal.
It was no legend, no drunkard's rambling, nor some exaggerated tale brought back by sailors from distant seas.
It flew quite grandly over the proudest guardian of Braavos and into the heart of the city-state.
The airflow kicked up by the dragon's wings stirred massive waves in the strait, crashing against the giant's pedestal.
At the docks, where masts stood like a forest, thousands of people stopped their work and looked up at the vast shadow obscuring the afternoon sun.
Exclamations, prayers, and the sound of falling objects shattered into a single cacophony.
As Aegon stepped onto the white stone plaza before the Sealords Palace—a place steeped in the scent of a thousand years of sea breeze and power—the Sealord of Braavos personally came out to meet him.
This old man, who had ruled Braavos for forty years, had a face as resolute as sea rock, but the fingers beneath his wide silver sleeves were twitching slightly.
He maintained etiquette, but every movement betrayed extreme caution.
In forty years, he had faced threats from pirate kings, extortion from neighboring governors, and pressure from the Iron Bank, but he had never faced... a living dragon, and a Dragonlord who seemed completely indifferent to the rules.
"Braavos..." the Sealord began, his voice carrying far across the unusually silent plaza.
He deliberately slowed his speech, both to buy himself time to think and to project to his subjects the illusion that "the Sealord is still in control."
"...welcomes our guest from afar."
"To what do we owe the honor of a dragon-riding King visiting our humble city-state?"
Aegon's gaze fell upon the Sealord, or rather, upon the silver crown atop his head.
"I have come to discuss a deal with the Iron Bank."
He got straight to the point, his voice not loud, yet clear enough for everyone straining their ears to hear.
"I need someone of sufficient weight to introduce me. I believe that is you."
The wrinkled corner of the Sealord's eye twitched imperceptibly.
In his forty-year rule of Braavos, this was the first time he had encountered such a... direct visitor.
No polite greetings, no hypocritical pleasantries, not even an announcement of his name.
But he saw those violet eyes, he saw that silver hair, and more importantly, he saw the three-headed dragon that could turn the Sealords Palace into ruins with a single breath.
The Sealord of Braavos nodded slightly and stepped aside with a gesture of "please," his posture impeccable yet maintaining a sense of reserve and distance.
"The Keyholders of the Iron Bank will be delighted to meet with you."
"However, such an important meeting perhaps requires a more suitable setting."
"Tonight, there will be a banquet in the Sealords Palace. I wonder if our noble guest would grace us with his presence? At that time, I will introduce you to the appropriate people."
That night, the main hall of the Sealords Palace, overlooking the water, was brilliantly lit.
Outside the massive arched windows, the canal scenery was charming, but tonight all passing ships gave it a wide berth.
Silverware sparkled on the long table, Braavosi seafood delicacies were on display, and golden wine rippled with an amber glow in crystal cups.
Several invited representatives of the Iron Bank sat silently below the Sealord.
The Sealord himself sat at the head, doing his best to play the role of the warm host.
Aegon was placed in the most honorable position at his left hand, with a gilded silver plate and a jewel-encrusted goblet before him, which he hardly touched.
"Allow me to introduce you."
The Sealord smiled, pointing toward a woman sitting diagonally across from Aegon.
"Lady Bellegere Otherys, one of the brightest pearls of Braavos."
"She is well-versed in the customs and trade of various city-states and may provide you with some modest insights during your stay."
The woman looked up and gave Aegon a proper, flawless smile.
She was beautiful, a meticulously sculpted, flawless beauty; her long black hair was gathered in a complex bun adorned with tiny pearls, and her eyes were a light brown, like melted honey.
A deep blue gown outlined her graceful figure, its hem embroidered with silver thread in wave patterns.
Aegon's gaze lingered on her face for less than a heartbeat before moving away, as if she were merely an exquisitely crafted decoration.
He looked toward the several Iron Bank representatives dressed in grey robes.
"Spare me the pleasantries."
He set down the golden cup he had been toyed with momentarily, finding it dull; the base clinked against the smooth obsidian tabletop, a sharp sound that was particularly jarring against the deliberately soothing music.
"I am Aegon Targaryen."
"I have come because I need money—a lot of money."
The air in the long hall seemed to freeze for a moment.
A musician's tune faltered by half a syllable before he hurriedly adjusted.
The smile on Lady Bellegere's face stiffened for a second, and the Sealord's hand holding his wine cup paused.
The Iron Bank representatives were also somewhat dazed, clearly not expecting such directness; after a long while, the eldest representative among them spoke slowly:
"Prince... Targaryen, the doors of the Iron Bank are open to all reputable clients."
"But loans require collateral. I wonder, what kind of collateral can you provide?"
He paused, as if weighing his words, but the caution in his tone bordered on skepticism.
"After all, even in Westeros, His Majesty King Robert Baratheon, whom you might consider an enemy, is still repaying the loans he took at the beginning of his reign. His credit... is acceptable."
He had directly stated the Iron Bank's rules—they recognized money, not people—and also implied that Robert was still their "reliable" client, even carrying a hint of comparison and warning.
Aegon seemed to smile, but it was a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Collateral?"
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, fingertips touching to form a stable triangle.
Under the lamplight, his violet eyes took on an almost inhuman clarity and coldness.
"How about a city-state?"
The Iron Bank representative's body jerked violently, and the wine cup in his hand nearly slipped.
His calculating eyes widened, filled with unbelievable absurdity and shock.
Collateralize a city-state? The entire sovereignty and future revenue of a Free City?
This... this was simply... madness! In the history of the Iron Bank, there had never been collateral of such a nature!
"A city-state?" he repeated, his voice still dry. "May I ask, which city? And what evidence can you provide to prove you have the right to collateralize it?"
Aegon's gaze swept across every face present, seeing doubt and scrutiny.
He spoke one word clearly and steadily:
"Lys."
Silence.
Then came a suppressed, unbelievable intake of breath.
The smile on the Sealord's face froze; he stared at Aegon as if truly recognizing the young man's boldness... or rather, madness, for the first time.
And Bellegere, the Pearl of Braavos who had just been introduced, now completely withdrew her languid smile.
Her amber eyes widened, staring unblinkingly at Aegon's calm, impassive profile.
"Lys?" A tremor appeared in the Iron Bank representative's voice that he could not suppress. "The Free City of Lys?"
"It is mine now."
Aegon's tone was as flat as if he were stating that the weather was fine today.
"Myr and Tyrosh as well."
"The news should have reached your hands by now, if Braavosi intelligence is as well-informed as the legends say."
He paused briefly to give everyone present time to digest this information.
In fact, judging by the shock and suspicion they tried to hide but still leaked from their eyes, the news had likely already arrived, just not yet fully confirmed.
Or, they simply could not believe one person could achieve all this in such a short time.
"Now."
Aegon continued, leaning back into his chair, his posture relaxed but carrying an even heavier sense of pressure.
"I am offering one of them, Lys, as collateral. How many gold coins can it fetch from the Iron Bank?"
This time, the silence lasted even longer.
The Iron Bank representatives exchanged looks, sitting there like stone statues, their grey robes seemingly merging with the shadows beneath them.
Only the rapid calculations in their eyes betrayed the intense activity within.
Collateralizing a Free City? And the quite wealthy Lys at that? In the thousand-year history of the Iron Bank, there had never been a precedent.
They had collateralized mines, Fleets, the future revenue of entire trade routes, and even the tax rights of certain petty kings.
But a living city-state, with a Port, population, army, and complete administrative system... this exceeded any column in their ledgers.
Risk? Immense.
Lys was not under the direct control of Braavos, and its internal factions were deeply entrenched; even if the Targaryen before them claimed control, how could they ensure its stability?
How could they ensure the collateral wouldn't be redeemed by force or destroyed?
Returns? Potentially just as immense.
A city's taxes, trade tariffs, resource output... if managed properly, it would be the most lucrative long-term investment in the Iron Bank's history.
But first, they had to confirm that what he said was true.
The eldest Iron Bank representative finally spoke again, his voice slower and more solemn than before: "Prince Aegon. What you have stated... is no small matter."
"Collateralizing a city-state is not a simple loan; it involves extremely complex valuation, contract drafting, transfer of rights, and subsequent management."
He looked up, staring directly at Aegon.
"Are you certain you wish to use the entire City-State of Lys, and all its currently controlled subsidiary interests, as collateral for a loan from the Iron Bank?"
"I am certain."
Aegon's answer came without any hesitation.
The old man was silent for a moment, as if weighing the weight of every word, then slowly nodded.
"This matter has exceeded the authority that we few can decide on the spot. We need to assess the current status, output, and stability of Lys, and we need to draft an unprecedented contract."
He stood up, and the other grey-robed representatives rose with him.
"Please, noble Prince, stay in Braavos for a while and enjoy the sights of our city."
"The Iron Bank will give you a preliminary response as soon as possible."
This was both a delay and a move for further observation and verification.
"Fine," Aegon nodded.
The Sealord also seemed to breathe a secret sigh of relief, his face once again wearing a polite smile as he prepared to raise his glass to ease the atmosphere, but a languid and pleasant voice rang out from the middle of the long table.
"Your Majesty the Sealord."
Everyone looked over to see that Bellegere Otherys had, at some point, set down her wine cup and stood up gracefully.
Her face wore that inscrutable, half-smiling expression, her amber eyes shimmering in the candlelight.
"Since Prince Targaryen needs to wait in Braavos for a while, and the Iron Bank's assessment will take time."
Her voice was neither fast nor slow, carrying a unique magnetic quality.
"The Prince has just arrived in Braavos, where the scenery is different and the people are strangers. If the Prince does not mind, Bellegere is willing to volunteer herself to temporarily serve as an advisor and guide."
She turned slightly toward Aegon and gave a bow: "Firstly, I can accompany the Prince to appreciate the charms of Braavos and pass the time while waiting. Secondly, having lived in this city for a long time, I know a thing or two about the local customs and people, and perhaps I can explain and answer questions for the Prince to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings."
"And thirdly..."
Her eyes flickered, sweeping over the Sealord and the Iron Bank representatives before returning to Aegon, the smile at the corners of her lips deepening: "Though I am of little talent, I do run a small salon, and I am fairly well-informed."
"There are some stories and undercurrents beneath the surface of Braavos that might provide the Prince with a different perspective for understanding the affairs here."
"After all, to have a smooth dialogue with the Iron Bank, one sometimes needs to first understand what the truly circulating language of this city is."
Her words were humble, but the confidence and deeper meaning within them were obvious.
She was not just offering guide services; she was hinting that she possessed the information and connections beneath the surface of Braavos, which could help Aegon better understand this complex and dangerous city, and perhaps even influence the negotiations with the Iron Bank.
A glimmer flashed in the Sealord's eyes; he did not seem surprised by Bellegere's initiative, and even appeared to welcome it.
Letting this "Black Pearl" with her complex background and superb skills contact Aegon was perhaps an excellent channel for observing or even influencing this uninvited guest.
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