Accompanied by Alios, Davos wandered around the surrounding area with him.
This young noble was clearly skilled at what he did. Without realizing it, Davos was led far away from the harbor.
They spent the entire day immersed in a theater.
Alios somehow procured a group of people to keep Davos company in revelry.
Plays, acrobatics, song and dance, strong liquor.
Davos, who had been born in Flea Bottom, was nearly overwhelmed, almost tricked into revealing the true purpose of this trip.
Clenching his teeth, he insisted that he was here only to sell the fleet.
Seeing no flaws in his story, the other side finally escorted him back to the guesthouse.
When Davos woke the next morning, everything he had experienced the night before felt like a dream.
The alcohol felt as if a wooden stake had been driven into his skull, the pain making him bare his teeth.
Only after some time did he recover enough to think about finding a way to go out and check on the fleet again.
While his mind was still hazy, his second son, Allard, pushed open the door and said, "Father, His Grace has sent Clement. He is about to arrive in Volantis."
Upon hearing the news, Davos hurriedly straightened his clothes and went to meet Clement.
As Clement recounted what had happened along the way, Davos felt as though he were listening to a myth.
The Old Man of the River?
A ghost fleet?
The Shrouded King?
"Ser Seaworth, I know you don't believe it. When His Grace arrives, you can ask Ser Arthur yourself."
Davos nodded. Since Clement dared to say such things, it meant they had truly happened.
After all, the Kingsguard were almost like ascetics.
At least in terms of character, they were far better than those bishops in King's Landing who ate themselves fat.
They were unlikely to lie about something like this.
But whether these events were true or not no longer mattered.
What mattered was how Viserys planned to get the fleet past the Volantenes' watch.
Malaqo and the other triarchs soon received word that Viserys was about to arrive.
During this time, they had nearly pieced together the current state of the Targaryens.
With the permission of Braavos, they were attempting to conquer Gohor as a place to settle.
Viserys's decision to sell the fleet was likely meant to secure more supplies in order to gain a foothold there.
"The Targaryens are down to widows and orphans anyway. Making such a foolish decision is hardly surprising," Malaqo said with some ease.
They all knew that Gohor was the core point of contention between Braavos and Pentos.
Choosing such a place to carve out a domain was stupidity taken to its extreme.
"Then can we press the price even lower?" Dofas suggested.
"Let's first see what this little king is like. If he's just a fool, perhaps we can scheme against the Targaryens themselves," said Nessiso, who clearly wanted more.
Back then, one of the reasons Aegon the Conqueror had refused to ally with Volantis, aside from avoiding the tangled struggles of Essos, was:
That such an alliance would have placed both sides on equal footing as heirs to Valyria.
Though Valyria had been destroyed for three or four centuries, its name still carried immense weight.
Now, they intended to scheme for the Targaryen bloodline and firmly establish Volantis as the sole heir of Valyria.
Davos had gone early to the harbor to welcome Viserys.
When he saw him, he stepped forward at once and said, "Your Grace, all ninety-six warships have arrived safely in Volantis."
"Ser Davos, you've worked hard. Your loyalty will never be forgotten by the royal house."
Davos did not care much for such words now. His family had already gained enough from Viserys.
What he cared about was how Viserys intended to take the warships to Gohor.
"Don't worry. Someone will help us," Viserys said.
Although Davos already knew that the helper Viserys referred to was the Old Man of the River, he still found it hard to believe.
Just as he was about to ask something, a loud trumpet-like sound suddenly rang out behind them.
Several high, resounding elephant calls echoed, as if throwing a pause over every sound in the world.
Slaves and commoners alike lowered their heads, like rows of reverent wax statues.
Everyone's gaze was instantly drawn in that direction.
Three white elephants advanced side by side.
The people riding on their backs were richly dressed, their bearing composed and dignified.
Ahead of the elephants, slaves responsible for cleaning continually sprinkled water and flower petals on the ground.
It was as if those riding the elephants were not nobles, but gods carried from a shrine.
Such a display naturally drew the attention of Viserys and the others.
"Your Grace, the three men riding the elephants are Volantis's triarchs. The one on the far left is Malaqo. He belongs to the Tiger faction. The other two—"
Standing beside Viserys, Davos lowered his voice and began to explain.
The triarchs of Volantis rode together on elephants to greet Viserys.
From atop his elephant, Malaquo looked down at Viserys and spoke with a hint of condescension.
"This is the law of Volantis. Once elected triarch, our feet may no longer touch the dust of the ground. I ask Your Grace's understanding."
Malaqo took the lead, and the other two Elephant faction triarchs tacitly chose to go along with him.
After all, what could be more satisfying than making a dragonlord's descendant look up at them?
Arthur, who had studied Valyrian for half a year, still could not understand what they were saying.
The Volantenes spoke pure High Valyrian.
What he had learned was a Valyrian dialect. He could only vaguely catch a few syllables.
But that was not important.
What mattered was that his king, a king who could speak with gods, was being looked down upon.
That filled him with deep displeasure.
His brown eyes fixed coldly on the three so-called triarchs. The hand gripping his sword hilt tightened slightly.
Viserys coughed softly, subtly drawing his Kingsguard's attention away, then gave a light smile.
"In Volantis, one should do as the Volantenes do. I understand completely. The welcome from the three triarchs greatly honors me."
He had no intention of contesting status over something like this.
If he had a dragon, forget laws about feet not touching the ground—these men would be smashing their foreheads into the dirt before him.
For now, he was merely a weakened heir beset by internal and external troubles, urgently in need of selling ships for coin.
Viserys's words left the three triarchs feeling quite pleased.
"In Volantis, one should do as the Volantenes do."
This line, adapted from another world, sat very well with them.
They had already decided that they would ensure merchants and travelers spread it widely in the future.
In some ways, it even had more flair than their oft-repeated boast that Volantis's harbor could swallow ten Braavoses.
'This little king isn't bad at all,' Malaqo thought as he looked at Viserys.