Viserys also exchanged the treasure he brought out from Dragonstone for gold dragons at the Iron Bank, and adding what he originally had, he now had about six hundred thousand gold dragons in his hands.
Although this money could keep him from worrying about making a living, Viserys knew the principle of planning ahead and had already started letting Ser Willem contact some trading merchants, intending to try trading with the specialty goods they brought and slowly figure out the ropes.
At the same time, the accompanying soldiers could not just be idle aside from training; they needed to see blood.
Viserys instructed Ser Arthur to keep an eye out for suitable mercenary tasks, such as escorts and suppressing pirates.
This could not only give them some extra pocket money, but also keep the soldiers’ swords sharp at all times in actual combat.
Overall, this month was quite peaceful.
The only minor incident occurred in the third week.
A gang of local thieves tried to sneak into the warehouse at night to steal the treasure, convinced that this exiled party would carry a significant amount of treasure, but they were eventually captured by the patrolling soldiers.
Following the rules of Braavos, Ser Willem did not resort to lynching, but tied them up and handed them over to the city watch the next day.
After this incident, The Sealord also felt that they were relatively law-abiding, so he reduced the number of people keeping surveillance.
Just as he had initially settled down and started considering what to do next, The Sealord’s second invitation arrived.
This time, the messenger was an administrative officer from The Sealords Manse, and his attitude was quite respectful.
When Viserys went again with Ser Arthur and Ser Willem.
The Sealord still received them in that grand hall, and Syrio Forel was still guarding at the side.
The difference was that this time a set of plain tea sets was placed on the table, and the tea fragrance was light.
“It seems you have settled down well.” The Sealord motioned for them to take a seat and poured tea personally, “Braavos has quite a bit of rain; I hope you are still adapting.”
After the pleasantries, The Sealord put down his teacup, his expression turning a bit more formal.
“A month’s time is enough to do many things, and enough to let the news spread further,” he slowly said, “I have a friend who wishes to see you, Prince Viserys.”
He paused for a moment.
“He hopes that this meeting can be secretive enough; that will be better for both sides.”
The Sealord’s words were subtle, but the meaning was clear: this friend came from Westeros, but the other party had no intention of stepping into the open right now.
However, this could also be a trap.
After all, although Braavos claimed to be neutral, such statements could only be taken at face value.
If Viserys could be killed, Robert Baratheon would probably be very willing to take the blame for this matter.
“Risk and opportunity coexist, Your Highness.” The Sealord finally said, “Braavos guarantees nothing, only providing a venue and a certain degree of information.
How to choose is up to yourselves.
You can consider it for a few days; there is no need to reply immediately.”
Viserys picked up the lukewarm teacup, sniffing the light tea fragrance.
Secretly, he was already controlling small animals in The Sealords Manse to see if there was any danger.
Unfortunately, there were no suspicious presences; it should be that the other party was not currently in The Sealords Manse.
Viserys did not let the silence last too long.
He put down the teacup, “Since His Grace The Sealord provides the venue, then I am willing to meet this friend.”
The Sealord did not seem surprised.
After all, in his view, Viserys certainly hoped that the more people he could win over, the better.
“Very well, tomorrow evening, I will arrange for you to meet in the secret room of The Sealords Manse.
I will ensure no one disturbs you.”
“Good.” Viserys stood up, “Tomorrow I will visit on time.”
Leaving The Sealords Manse, Ser Arthur finally lowered his voice, “Your Grace, this is too risky.”
“Waiting for others to come knocking on the door is equally dangerous.
At least this time, we can prepare in advance.
Ser Arthur, tomorrow you and Ser Jonothor will accompany me to the secret talk.
Have Ser Willem lead men to provide backup outside, keep an eye on everyone entering and leaving, and have Ser Alliser lead men to guard the stronghold well and protect Daenerys and the others.”
He paused and added, “Also, have someone investigate now whether any ships of unknown identity have entered Braavos recently, especially from the direction of Dorne.”
If it was Dorne, at least it shouldn’t be an enemy.
The Sealords Manse on the next day appeared more vacant than usual.
The administrative officer led them to a concealed iron-clad wooden door on the west side of the main hall and left.
Opening the door, the room had only a long table and a few chairs, and the bronze lamps on the walls emitted a steady halo of light.
There was the smell of dust and old parchment in the air, along with a very faint, warm exotic spice scent.
Ser Arthur Dayne’s hand rested lightly on the hilt of Dawn, while Ser Jon Darry was surveying the environment inside.
Two people were already sitting by the table.
The leading man leaned lazily in his chair, his posture languid yet carrying a predator-like alertness.
He had a darker complexion, slightly curly black hair, a somewhat lean face, and deep olive-colored eyes.
He wore a dark green coat with an open collar, and around his neck hung a gold sun-sigil pendant of an archaic style.
At this moment, one of his hands rested casually behind his female companion’s waist, his fingertips hidden in the folds of her sheer gauze dress.
That woman, Ellaria Sand, leaned against his side, her copper-red long hair flowing loose, her face charming, carrying the unique wild beauty of Dorne.
She seemed accustomed to the movement of that hand, even turning slightly to make it more comfortable for the other person to touch, yet her deep purple eyes sharply scrutinized the incoming Viserys.
“Viserys Targaryen,” the man spoke, “I am Oberyn Martell.
I suppose you still remember, we met at the Tourney at Harrenhal.
This is Ellaria Sand, my paramour.”
He did not get up, merely using his free left hand to make a casual gesture of invitation.
“Prince Oberyn, does Dorne still pledge allegiance to House Targaryen?” Viserys sat down opposite, turning a blind eye to the hand still making subtle movements, “I heard from The Sealord that you hoped this meeting would be secret enough.”
“Secret, because King’s Landing has long ears, and Dorne’s scars are still very new.” Oberyn withdrew his hand, sat up straight, his gaze turning sharp, “My sister Elia, my nephew Aegon, their blood is still unwashed on the stone steps of the Red Keep.
Robert Baratheon and the Lannister by his side must pay the price for this.”
He stared at Viserys, as if weighing an unpolished piece of jade, “I can tell, the two knights you brought, especially this Sword of the Morning, look at you as if looking at a true king; that is very interesting.
Perhaps you are more worth anticipating than you appear on the outside.
And Dorne will not bend the knee to anyone, now or in the future.”
“Since Dorne will not pledge allegiance,” Viserys’s tone was calm, “what is the purpose of your coming to this talk?”