Watching the vigorous dance of the mermaids in the hall, Arthur felt nothing but boredom despite their graceful figures.
He smacked his lips. Even the various delicacies and fine wines on the table seemed to have lost their appeal. The Black Pearl had long disappeared from his side, weaving through the seats to exercise her traditional skills as a courtesan—socializing.
That woman was truly adept at teasing people and then ruining the mood, doing so as naturally as eating and drinking.
While Arthur silently criticized the Black Pearl, the mermaids' vigorous dance ended, and a troupe of mummers took their place.
They performed the play mentioned in the Sealord's speech: The Uncloaking of Uthero.
As a transmigrator from the North, Arthur couldn't empathize at all. He yawned repeatedly, nearly falling asleep.
The only thing Arthur found amusing was the end of the play. When the actor playing Uthero threw off his cloak, he was wearing absolutely nothing underneath—only a mask on his face.
The actor playing Uthero and the others continued their serious performance as if nothing was amiss, delivering their lines with gravitas.
This sudden scene caused the entire hall to erupt in laughter and cheers. Even the Sealord on his throne was doubled over laughing.
Even Arthur, who had seen much of the world, couldn't help but laugh out loud.
The actor playing Uthero jiggled hilariously, combined with the bold, contrasting performance style. Even in Arthur's previous life, this would have been quite a shocking effect.
After The Uncloaking of Uthero ended and the actors left amidst cheers and applause, an ethereal female voice sounded in Arthur's ear: "Are you Arthur Snow?"
"They say you have violet eyes as beautiful as the Black Pearl's. I suppose you are him."
Arthur didn't know many people in the hall, but he recognized the newcomer at a glance—the tall, distinctive Mermaid Queen.
Arthur raised his glass politely. "Unless someone else in the hall is calling my name, I suppose you are right."
"Care to dance with me?" The Mermaid Queen extended an invitation.
Arthur shook his head with an apologetic smile, his right hand resting on 'Zhanlu' at his waist. "Conventionally, the gentleman should invite the lady. However, aside from the Water Dance, I have no interest in dancing. My apologies, beautiful lady."
"Lady?" The Mermaid Queen's ethereal voice carried a hint of anger.
"How old are you?!"
"By my count, almost twelve or thirteen," Arthur replied with what he thought was a decent answer. "Is there a problem, beautiful lady?"
"Never mind." The Mermaid Queen took a deep breath and sighed. "Excuse me."
As the performances, programs, and food continued, night fell unknowingly.
The revelers in the hall began to disperse, heading to the accommodations the Sealord had prepared for them.
Just as Arthur, satisfied with food and drink, was preparing to leave for his quarters to exercise and digest, Syrio Forel stopped him.
"Arthur, come with me. The Sealord summons you." Syrio Forel wore his purple-and-gold mask.
"What does the Sealord want with me?" Arthur stretched, pushed himself up from the armrest, and patted his belly, rounded from food and wine.
Truth be told, the golden wine from the Arbor had quite a kick. Arthur felt his calves trembling slightly, and his legs felt exceptionally heavy as he walked.
Syrio didn't answer, just led the way. Just as Arthur thought Syrio hadn't heard him, Syrio replied in an extremely faint voice:
"It is a good thing."
Arthur nodded. Mm, a good thing.
Then Arthur shook his head. What good thing could there be?
Even if it is a good thing, it's ruining my good thing right now.
Arthur burped, patted his cheeks to sober up, and obediently followed Syrio, pondering the Sealord's purpose for a private summons.
Pate had mentioned before that the Valyrian steel dagger, famous throughout Braavos, seemed to have caught the Sealord's attention. Was it about the dagger?
But the dagger was already promised to a beauty; he couldn't give it to the Sealord.
While Arthur was thinking of strategies and phrasing his words, he arrived at the high tower where the Sealord resided.
This was likely the tallest man-made residential structure Arthur had ever seen. He estimated the tip of the tower definitely exceeded the height of the Sealord's Palace dome.
The guards clearly knew Syrio and greeted him politely.
What surprised Arthur was that when the guard confiscated his sword, 'Zhanlu', he asked respectfully, even worshipfully:
"Master Smith, may I draw your sword to admire it?"
Arthur handed him 'Zhanlu'. "If you like, you can wipe it with an oilcloth until I return for it."
"Thank you so much, Master Smith." The guard took the sword carefully, his excitement palpable.
Seeing this, the other guards unconsciously gathered around.
"What are you all gathering for? Don't forget your duties." Syrio scolded the guards, then led Arthur up the spiral staircase.
The stairs were longer than Arthur imagined. They climbed until Arthur could see the Moon Pool in the distance through a tower window before Syrio stopped.
"We are here." Syrio knocked on the door and entered only after receiving permission from inside.
"Arthur Snow, please sit. I have wanted to meet you for a long time." Seeing the Sealord again, Arthur found him much warmer than expected.
"I've heard quite a few stories about you recently, from all sorts of people."
"My honor, Your Grace." Arthur bowed and sat on an oak chair not far from the Sealord. Under the room's lighting, Arthur could observe the most powerful man in Braavos up close.
Compared to the morning in the hall, the Sealord had removed his golden mask. His appearance was ordinary—neither ugly nor handsome.
He looked somewhat haggard, with sunken eyes. His lips and cheeks were pale, carrying a sickly air.
From the front, the Sealord's body was thin and frail, not tall. His entire torso was completely blocked by a fat orange cat curled up on his lap, as if he were hiding behind the cat.
The orange cat keenly sensed a stranger's gaze, meowed warily at Arthur, then turned its head to lick its paw, ignoring him.
Watching the orange cat's clumsy cuteness, Arthur couldn't help but think of that similarly ugly-cute bulldog, Claw.
Sigh, fear cuts deeper than claws.
"I heard you have a very good relationship with the lords of the Three Sisters?"
Faced with the Sealord's pointed and unexpected question, Arthur glanced discreetly at Syrio. Seeing Syrio's calm, unwavering gaze, he answered truthfully:
"Yes, Your Grace. We correspond frequently, and I co-manage a fleet with him running between White Harbor and Braavos.
"Regularly bringing lumber needed by the Braavos shipyards and weapon factories."
The Sealord gripped the armrests of his chair with both hands. On his sickly face, a pair of blue eyes asked with scrutiny:
"Before summoning you, many insurance merchants reported to me that the lords of the Three Sisters were plundering their ships. Do you know about this? Do you have anything to say?"
"I don't know." Arthur bit his tongue. The pain instantly cleared his alcohol-addled brain. After a slight pause, he said, "I have nothing to say."
"Don't know?" The Sealord straightened up, hands on the armrests. The fat orange cat jumped off his lap with a dissatisfied whimper.
The Sealord questioned sternly: "You came to Braavos on a Sisterman ship. The lord's nephew, Zaren Borrell, obeys your every command. How could you not know?"