Facing the Sealord's interrogation, despite the man's frail and small appearance, Arthur felt an intense, oppressive pressure.
Arthur forced himself to calm down and replied without showing any fear:
"They light beacon fires at night to lure passing ships onto the reefs, causing them to sink, then salvage the wrecks for profit. This is their tradition. I admit they have always done this; I am one of the victims."
"But as for raiding ships at sea, I have never heard of them doing such a thing. So, my answer is I don't know, and I have nothing to say about it, Your Grace."
The Sealord's expression softened slightly. He raised an eyebrow. "You are... a victim too?"
"If they hadn't lit the beacon at night, the Braavosi ship taking me to King's Landing wouldn't have wrecked on the Three Sisters. I shouldn't have been in Braavos, at least not now."
Arthur exhaled deeply, adjusting his tone and speaking slowly to explain:
"My uncle is Duke Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North. Because of this identity, the Lord of the Three Sisters agreed to escort me out of his territory.
"But I am kind-hearted. To save the lives of that Braavosi captain and his sailors, I refused the Lord's offer and promised to cooperate with him. As for the method of cooperation, I assume you know all about it, Your Grace."
"Colluding with Sabel Kaffi to provide information, targeting ships insured by other merchants, then sending the wrecked captains and crews back to Braavos, and even helping them claim money from the insurance merchants."
As the Sealord spoke, his expression relaxed completely. He leaned back in his chair, and the fat orange cat jumped onto his lap again, finding a comfortable spot to lick its paws.
"Arthur, tell me, how did you come up with this idea?"
Seeing the Sealord relax, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed he had passed the test.
"When the ship wrecked, Victar said he only wanted to return to Braavos to cash in his insurance contract. That's when I got the idea.
"At this stage, the Lord, Sabel Kaffi, and even the wrecked captains benefit. Only the interests of some unimportant insurance merchants are harmed."
"Unimportant? To be honest, your actions violate the laws and spirit of Braavos," the Sealord said, then changed the subject.
"Arthur, actually, I should have arrested you, Zaren Borrell, and Sabel Kaffi long ago. But you have a sense of propriety. As you said, you sent the wrecked captains and crews back to Braavos, so I turned a blind eye to your actions."
Arthur stood up and bowed. "Thank you for your understanding, Your Grace."
"No need to thank me. You should thank those insurance merchants. They were stupid enough to hire pirates to raid ships, and those pirates happened to sell Braavosi as slaves!" The Sealord's pale face flushed with an unhealthy red from anger.
"Braavos welcomes everyone, except slavers! Pirates deserve to die, slavers deserve to die even more, and those insurance merchants must have something wrong with their heads to cooperate with them."
The Sealord took a few deep breaths, the anger on his face disappearing as he calmed down. "After the Masquerade ends, I will have them arrested and arrange for judges to punish them according to Braavosi law."
"Your Grace is wise." Arthur stated a fact expressionlessly.
"I come from Westeros, where slavery is abhorred. In our lands, those who traffic slaves, even nobles, are sentenced to death."
"Death?" The Sealord looked at Arthur meaningfully. "If they all die, the insurance business from Braavos to White Harbor will be monopolized by Sabel Kaffi alone. Your cooperation with him will come to an end."
"By then, we can cooperate directly with the captains. The beacon fires lit on all islands from Braavos to White Harbor won't guide them to reefs, but illuminate their way forward." Arthur said frankly.
"Sabel Kaffi is a Braavosi who has been in the insurance business for years. You should know his greedy nature better than I do. His monopoly is not a good thing for anyone."
"Not a good thing?" The Sealord narrowed his eyes. "He is indeed greedy by nature, but how can I trust that you won't be the next Sabel Kaffi?"
"Your Grace, you don't need to trust us," Arthur replied.
"Profit dictates that we cannot do what he does. If we set insurance prices extremely high, captains will change routes and stop coming to White Harbor. Everything we've done in Braavos, the Three Sisters, and even on Pebble would be for nothing."
The Sealord stared at Arthur for a long while before slowly saying, "I will have the judges render a fair verdict without showing any mercy."
"Your Grace, I have a request. I wish to use the future equivalent income from the insurance business as collateral to borrow 100,000 Gold Dragons from the Iron Bank. The longer the repayment term for the principal, the better."
At the end, Arthur added, "I will keep this money in the Iron Bank and will not use it."
"Borrowing without using. You don't trust me," the Sealord said, shaking his head with a smile.
"It seems this is your style. Since you wish it, I will personally designate a loan officer from the Iron Bank to liaise with you."
It was late at night when Arthur left the Sealord's residence. Syrio Forel came out with him.
"I can tell the Sealord appreciates you, Arthur." Syrio Forel had also removed his mask.
"How could you tell?" Arthur was noncommittal. The pressure from the Sealord was immense, making him momentarily forget about the surprise the Black Pearl had mentioned.
"The Sealord wore a mask when meeting those insurance merchants, but he specifically took it off when meeting you."
"A Black Mamba only drops its disguise when it's about to kill," Arthur said, taking off his mask and relaxing his stiff face.
"I'd rather he wore a mask when speaking to me."
"You are a boring man," Syrio rolled his eyes speechlessly and walked quickly to the window by the stairs.
"Mummers need to be interesting," Arthur joked as he followed him to the window. "Maybe next time I should take off my cloak and stand naked to make everyone laugh?"
"The Sealord is ill." Syrio stood at the window, a look of confusion and melancholy in his expression.
"Obvious," Arthur stopped smiling and followed Syrio's gaze to the Moon Pool not far away. Even at night, fires flickered there.
Assassins liked to duel at the Moon Pool, especially at night. Under the moonlight, the shimmering water reflected the cold glint and blood of the assassins' rapiers, creating a unique scene.
"Any thoughts for the future?" Arthur scanned the city, bustling even at night due to the festival. He raised his right hand with three fingers up.
"In Westeros, a swordsman sworn to protect the king generally has three choices after the king dies: be buried with his king, serve the king's lawful heir, or serve the new king."
"Braavos elects its Sealord. The new Sealord won't trust you like the current one or appoint you as the First Sword." Arthur folded down his ring and index fingers.
"That eliminates two options directly."
"Then only the one you off—"
Before Arthur could finish, Syrio had already pushed down the middle finger Arthur held up.
"You want to recruit me?" Syrio curled his lip. "I am the First Sword of Braavos. If you become some king in the future, I might consider it. For now... tsk tsk tsk."
With that, Syrio turned and walked downstairs, disappearing in an instant.
"Tsk tsk tsk." Arthur mimicked Syrio, raising his middle finger again at Syrio's retreating back.
Boring. Syrio is truly a boring man.
Time to meet some interesting people and do some interesting things.
Thinking of the surprise the Black Pearl teased him with in the morning, Arthur's somewhat gloomy mood lightened up.