The "stone statue" was holding a spear that glimmered with a soft blue light. There was no need to guess—it was the Prince's Spear.
Seeing Viserys already struck, Garin let out a cold laugh.
He walked toward Viserys step by step, raising his hand to reclaim the Rhoynar relic from his grasp.
But in the next instant, the stone figure moved.
The outer "stone skin" burst apart as if shattered, accompanied by a hazy white glow. The blue spear shot forward and pierced straight through Garin's neck.
How could such a young Valyrian wield water magic?
The thought flashed through Garin's mind like lightning.
He staggered back against the railing, clutching his neck as brownish fluid continued to seep out. His eyes were filled with shock and rage.
Leaning against the rail, he glared viciously at Viserys and snarled,
"As long as even one person cursed by me still exists in this world, you cannot kill me."
The curse he spoke of was greyscale.
As long as greyscale did not vanish from the world, he would not truly die.
This was the same principle the Old Turtle had explained to Viserys: as long as believers endured, a god could not perish.
"As long as I live, you will never pass through Chroyane," Garin said in a voice like a curse. "I will curse everyone around you until they all become my subjects!"
Viserys looked at Garin's increasingly twisted and venomous expression, a mixture of pity and revulsion welling up in his chest.
This man had lived in hatred for far too long. He had become nothing more than a vessel for it.
"I never intended to kill you from the beginning," Viserys said calmly. "You were the one who offended first."
"So what?" Garin sneered. "Nothing brings me more pleasure than the blood of my enemies' descendants."
Viserys stepped forward, anger evident in his voice.
"Then what about the Rhoynar people? What about them? If you kill me, the Rhoynar of Gohor will fall back into slavery.
Mother Rhoyne will be forced to watch her children cling to life under Volantene slavers. Have you ever thought of them?"
As he spoke, Viserys pointed toward Lothan and the others below.
"Lothan—an old man in his seventies—was overjoyed when he heard you were still alive. Do you really care only about your own selfish desires?"
Faced with Viserys's rebuke, much of the madness in Garin's eyes faded.
"Why should I believe you?" he asked stubbornly.
"And why shouldn't you?" Viserys shot back.
Garin wanted to argue, but found no angle from which to do so.
At this moment, his best option was to retreat.
Return to the depths, lick his wounds, and bide his time. More importantly, Viserys was still so young yet already commanded profound water and fire magic.
He would only grow stronger.
If Viserys truly meant what he said, then with a little help from Garin, the Rhoynar remnants along the Rhoyne might finally gain some breathing room.
"Very well," Garin said at last. "I agree. But what if you join forces with Volantis against me?"
"What would I gain from that?"
Because you're old? Because you don't bathe?
Garin curled his lips in disdain, then realized that this was, in fact, true.
Chroyane had long been a loathed and forsaken land. As its former ruler, Garin could easily see through such matters.
"What do you want to do, then?" he asked.
"When the time comes, my fleet will pass through your domain. You will give us passage."
Just as Garin was about to nod, a greatsword suddenly flew through the air.
A flash of cold steel crossed Viserys's vision, and Garin's head tumbled to the deck, rolling several times.
His body followed, collapsing stiffly like a tree sawn through.
"Your Majesty, don't worry! I'm here to protect you!"
Arthur strode in front of Viserys, placing himself between the king and danger.
Viserys stared at the scene before him, speechless, his throat feeling as though something was lodged in it.
Before he could speak, Arthur stepped forward again and kicked Garin's headless body farther away.
After all, this was a being who could summon a ghost fleet from the depths. Arthur could not afford to be careless.
Viserys looked at Garin's body, then at his severed head, and said,
"Our agreement still stands. My guard didn't understand what was happening. How about I build you a temple as compensation?"
Arthur looked at Viserys in confusion.
'Why was His Majesty speaking to a dead man?' But what happened next shattered his understanding of the world.
Garin's sprawled corpse rose to its feet once more.
It walked over to its own head, picked it up, and calmly placed it back on its neck.
"No need," Garin said. "I don't have a divine seat yet. A temple would be useless."
"Fine. Volantis has plenty of nobles with Valyrian blood. I'll throw you a few more when the time comes."
For the rest of the journey, Arthur remained in a daze.
A ghost fleet rising from the river.
Strange firelight and gray mist.
A shroud-wrapped king who reattached his own severed head.
For the first time, Arthur began to doubt both his swordsmanship and his greatsword.
He silently posed a massive question mark to the world itself.
Because Viserys and Garin had spoken in the Rhoynar tongue, Arthur's six months of self-taught Valyrian had been completely useless.
Yet out of a Kingsguard's discipline, as long as Viserys did not speak of it himself, Arthur would never ask.
He began to suspect that he could no longer truly protect his king.
The Morning Sword of House Dayne, the most legendary swordsman in Westeros, fell into deep inner turmoil.
Viserys did not make his agreement with Garin public.
He merely told the others that when the fleet passed through Chroyane, there would be no resistance.
He needed to maintain an air of mystery among the newly submitted Rhoynar.
A man who could speak directly with the Old Man of the River was already awe-inspiring enough.
If they learned that he could also strike a bargain with the legendary Shroud-Wrapped King, their reverence would only deepen.
Lothan looked toward Viserys's ship and spoke with utter conviction.
"From now on, we are all subjects of Viserys."
When the fleet was about a day's journey from Volantis, Viserys had Clement lead a group ahead to inform the city of his imminent arrival.
He would judge Volantis's attitude toward him by the scale of their reception.
The rest of the fleet remained behind to rest and make themselves presentable. After such a long journey, weariness inevitably clung to them.
Viserys intended to make Volantis truly believe that he had come to sell his fleet.
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