The blood on the canal had not yet fully dispersed when Aegon returned to the pleasure boat.
He flicked the blood droplets from the blade of dark sisters and sheathed it, his movements as calm as if he had just finished a morning exercise.
His gaze swept over the unconscious assassins on the deck.
"These people."
Aegon spoke, his voice sounding exceptionally clear over the silent river surface.
"They don't seem like servants of the many-faced god."
Bellavery stepped out from behind a cabin pillar, her deep blue skirt stained with wood chips and dust, her hair slightly disheveled, but her eyes had regained their clarity.
She crouched down, using her fingertips to lift an assassin's collar, revealing the neck; there was no specialized skin mask like those of the Faceless Men, only the coarse skin and an old scar common to a Mercenary.
"Remember the testing I mentioned before?"
She stood up and brushed the dust off her hands: "I think these people are exactly that."
"The Magister of Pentos bought the professional services of the Faceless Men, while others... those who do not wish for you to reach an agreement with the Iron Bank, are using cheap lives to measure the weight of a true dragon."
She walked to the gunwale, watching the crowd starting to gather in the distance and the faint sound of whistles; the Braavosi Guard was on its way.
"The waters of Braavos are deep, Your Highness."
"The Iron Bank is not a monolith; while some are happy to invest in the new King of Westeros, others view any change as a threat."
"Not to mention those families with business across the Narrow Sea; they certainly don't want to see a powerful Targaryen return to the iron throne."
Aegon sneered.
The laughter was light, yet it made the early autumn afternoon air on the canal suddenly turn several degrees colder.
"Now... it's no longer a question of whether they want to or not."
He bent down, grabbing the leather collar of an unconscious assassin's armor with one hand, lifting him like a sack of grain and heading toward the stern.
Then he picked up a second one with his other hand.
Bellavery watched in silence as he made three trips, dragging five unconscious captives—three divers and two crossbowmen—to the center of the pleasure boat's deck, lining them up.
"Your Highness?" Bellavery frowned slightly.
"To the Sealords Palace."
Aegon walked toward the aft cabin and spoke a few words of Braavosi dialect to the old boatman shivering in the corner; his accent was stiff, but clear enough to be understood.
The old boatman looked in horror at the people sprawled across the deck, then at Aegon, and finally, at Bellavery's nod, he tremblingly crawled back to his rowing position.
"You're going to escort them there personally?" Bellavery followed Aegon's lead.
"Personally," Aegon said. "With evidence in hand, I'll ask the ruler of Braavos if this is the safety he promised."
The pleasure boat slowly turned around, cutting through the water toward the island where the Sealords Palace was located.
The Sealords Palace sat on a peninsula, its white marble buildings glistening in the afternoon sun.
When the pleasure boat, its deck strewn with five unconscious captives and its bow and stern splattered with blood, docked, the guards' halberds were raised in unison.
Aegon was the first to step onto the pier.
He wore a black robe, its sleeves and front stained with dark blood, his silver hair fluttering slightly in the salty sea breeze.
Behind him, Bellavery followed, lifting her skirt, her expression calm.
"I want to see the Sealord."
Aegon spoke; his voice wasn't loud, but it silenced the entire Port.
The captain of the guard was a serious-looking middle-aged man; he looked at Aegon, then at the captives on the boat who were clearly dressed as Mercenary, and finally at Bellavery.
A celebrity of Braavos, the "Black Pearl" of House Osserys.
"Lady Osserys," the captain said in Braavosi, "this is..."
"An attack targeting an honored guest of Braavos."
Bellavery replied in fluent Braavosi, her voice clear enough for all the surrounding guards to hear.
"It happened on a canal not far from the Sealords Palace. Seven assassins, four crossbows, and three boats surrounding us. Prince Aegon Targaryen acted in self-defense, captured the criminals, and has come specifically to ask the Sealord to uphold justice."
She enunciated every word precisely, as if reading a formal proclamation.
The captain's face changed. He looked at Aegon again, this time with more scrutiny and a hint of undetectable tension.
He quickly issued orders; the guards lowered their halberds and cleared a path.
Someone else ran into the palace to report.
A moment later, Aegon stood in the audience hall of the Sealords Palace.
The hall was magnificent, with high vaulted ceilings and stained glass filtering the sunlight into vibrant colors across the black-and-white marble floor. The Sealord sat on a high chair, its back carved with the pattern of the Titan of Braavos.
The Sealord himself was about fifty, with a shrewd face and gray hair tied neatly behind his head, wearing a deep blue robe embroidered with silver thread.
Standing on either side of him were several people: representatives of the Iron Bank, the First Judge, and several figures who appeared to be naval generals based on their attire.
Aegon stood in the center of the hall, at his feet five captives with their hands tied behind their backs, newly awakened by the cold water the guards had splashed on them.
Bellavery stood half a step behind him and to the side, maintaining a perfect distance.
"Prince Aegon Targaryen."
The Sealord spoke, his voice steady and devoid of emotion.
"Lady Osserys, I heard that some... unpleasant things happened?"
"Unpleasant?"
Aegon repeated the word, his violet eyes looking directly at the Sealord.
"In my homeland, seven armed men ambushing a boat on a waterway is called an assassination."
"In Braavos, does this seem to be merely unpleasant?"
The atmosphere in the hall froze.
The representative of the Iron Bank cleared his throat: "Your Highness, Braavos is a city of contracts and trade; we guarantee the safety of all legal visitors."
"But that doesn't mean we can foresee every crime. These thugs..."
"Not thugs," Aegon interrupted him. He bent down, grabbed a captive's hair, and forced him to look up. "Tell the Sealord, who hired you?"
The captive turned pale, his lips trembling, his gaze involuntarily and fearfully darting toward one side of the hall... where several naval generals and some civil officials stood.
His gaze didn't land clearly on any one person; it was more like a desperate sweep in that direction.
But Aegon didn't press further; he simply let go, allowing the Mercenary to slump down.
He straightened up, his gaze slowly scanning the hall before finally landing on the Sealord's face.
"It seems he doesn't dare to speak."
Aegon's voice was soft, yet it weighed down the entire hall into a dead silence.
"In Braavos, in the presence of the Sealord, an assassin doesn't even dare to identify the mastermind. Is this your law, or your... tradition?"
These words were extremely heavy.
The Sealord's face darkened, and the Iron Bank representative also frowned deeply.
This wasn't just an accusation against a specific noble; it was a questioning of Braavos's rule of law and order, a challenge to the Sealord's authority.
The air in the hall seemed to solidify.
Several naval generals exchanged glances, and the civil officials held their breath. A breakthrough was needed—an answer that would allow the Sealord to save face while giving Aegon an explanation.
At that moment, Bellavery suddenly let out a low cry, and her silk handkerchief fell to the floor. She bent down to pick it up, and as she stood, her body swayed slightly; she leaned against a pillar, her face pale as paper.
"S-sorry..." she stammered, sounding incoherent as if from excessive fright.
"I... I think I remember... yesterday by the Long Canal, while accompanying Lady Lysanella to pick silks... I saw Lord Marcos of House Solorys in the back alley of the Broken Spear Tavern, talking to some sailors with Disputed Lands accents..."
She suddenly covered her mouth, fear of having misspoken appearing in her eyes: "No... I must have seen wrong! The sun was too bright... Lord Marcos is so respectable, how could he go to such a place... I must be frightened out of my wits, please forgive me, Your Excellency the Sealord..."
She bowed her head and cowered, perfectly playing the part of a frightened noblewoman who had misspoken.
But the words Solorys, Marcos, Broken Spear Tavern, and Disputed Lands sailors had already pierced the silence like ice picks.
The Sealord's eyelids lowered slightly, his fingertips tapping gently on the armrest.
The Iron Bank representative's gaze was as sharp as a knife, sweeping over Bellavery before turning toward one side of the hall.
Everyone's gaze suddenly shifted, locking onto Marcos Solorys, who was dressed in a deep green brocade robe and wearing a pearl necklace.
Marcos's face turned deathly pale. He opened his mouth to argue, but saw the Sealord's gaze had already turned cold as iron.
"Solorys," the Sealord uttered.
"Excellency! This is slander! Yesterday I didn't even..."
"Take him away." The Sealord waved his hand, brooking no argument.
"To the water cells. Interrogate him strictly."
The guards stepped forward like wolves and tigers, dragging away the struggling and protesting Marcos. The hall doors slammed shut, the sound echoing.
After the doors closed, the Sealord took a deep breath and looked back at Aegon.
"Your Highness, we will give you an explanation. These people..." He pointed to the captives on the floor.
"And the mastermind behind them will all face trial. In the name of Braavos, I give you my word."
"Your word?" Aegon took a step forward.
He was very tall, standing in the center of the hall, the bloodstains on his black robe appearing exceptionally dark in the patches of light cast by the stained glass.
"I have been in Braavos for three days and have already faced an assassination attempt. Your Excellency, your word doesn't seem to be worth much."
The First Judge said sternly, "Your Highness, please watch your words! This is..."
"This is the place where I almost lost my life."
Aegon turned to him, his gaze like ice.
"And you, sitting in this magnificent palace, tell me it was just 'unpleasant'?"
He scanned the room, his gaze passing over the faces of the Sealord, the Iron Bank representative, the First Judge, and the naval generals one by one.
"I came to Braavos for a deal."
"I am considering the Iron Bank's terms, but after today, I need to re-evaluate. If even basic personal safety cannot be guaranteed, how can I believe Braavos can guarantee the fulfillment of a contract worth the wealth of a city-state?"
The Iron Bank representative's face changed: "Your Highness, those are two different things. The Iron Bank's reputation..."
"Reputation is built on strength," Aegon interrupted him.
"And also on sincerity. Today I brought the assassins here because I am still willing to enter through the front door. Next time..."
He paused, his voice even softer, yet it sent a chill down everyone's spine: "Perhaps my dragon will not wait on the sea; it will land on the dome of the Sealords Palace and personally ask its master if Braavos is safe."
Someone in the hall gasped.
The Sealord's fingers on the armrest tightened slightly.
He stared at Aegon for a long time, long enough for the sunlight to move half a foot on the stained glass.
Then, he slowly stood up.
"Prince Aegon Targaryen," the Sealord said, enunciating every word heavily.
"Braavos has offended you. As the ruler of this city, I guarantee your remaining stay in my own name and the name of my house."
He walked down from the dais to stand before Aegon. They were of similar height and met eye to eye.
"Until you leave Braavos," the Sealord continued.
"I will personally be responsible for your safety. I will assign a squad of my personal guard to station at your residence."
"All your travels within the city will be escorted by them. If such an incident occurs again..."
The Sealord's gaze swept over everyone in the hall.
"I will personally investigate to the end, regardless of who is involved, which house they belong to, or how much they have deposited in the Iron Bank."
He paused, then said: "As for the loan matters, the Iron Bank will provide a final response within three days."
"I urge, in the name of the Sealord, that this process be fair and swift."
The Iron Bank representative opened his mouth as if to say something, but under the Sealord's gaze, he finally just nodded slightly.
Aegon looked at the Sealord for a full ten seconds.
"I accept your guarantee," Aegon said, "and I hope Braavos can live up to its reputation."
Three days later, the Port of Braavos awoke in the morning mist.
Aegon stood on the highest balcony of the Sealords Palace, looking down at the Port below.
Bellavery stood half a step beside him, her deep blue morning gown fluttering slightly in the cool sea breeze.
In the Port, a Fleet composed of twelve heavy dromonds was slowly sailing out.
They were not warships; their hulls were specially reinforced, and their waterlines were unusually deep.
Each ship's cargo hold had been converted into a fully enclosed vault, guarded jointly by the Sealord's personal guard and the Iron Bank's protectors.
This was the first installment of the loan paid by the Iron Bank.
Ten million gold coins.
This was only one-third of the total amount.
Even so, when the Iron Bank's goldsmiths and accountants brought out those gold bricks, bars, and crates of gold coins from the underground vaults, packed them into special lead-sealed wooden crates, and carried them onto these ships, even the most experienced old sailors at the Port stopped their work and stared blankly.
They had never in their lives seen so much gold being transported out of the same building and loaded onto the same Fleet on the same day.
He didn't know exactly how much money he had borrowed; the Iron Bank's accountants used complex formulas to calculate interest, exchange rates, and repayment terms—those numbers meant nothing to him.
He only knew: the gold in the cargo holds of this Fleet was enough to buy all of Pentos, enough to build a top-tier Fleet, and enough to provide armor for an army of a hundred thousand.
And this was only the first payment.
"They will pay it off in three installments."
Bellavery said softly, her gaze following the departing Fleet.
"The Iron Bank never empties its vaults all at once, not even for you, Your Highness."
She paused and added: "But the amount of this first installment... already exceeds the total of all loans the Iron Bank has granted to all the lords of Westeros over the past ten years."
Aegon did not respond.
He watched the Fleet as it gradually turned into silhouettes in the morning sun, sailing toward the southeast... in the direction of Lys.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898