The sun had not yet risen when Davos, lying in bed, suddenly twitched.
He slowly opened his eyes. Above him was a pale pink ceiling.
Davos had dreamed.
A nightmare.
In the dream, the fleet stranded outside had all defected to Robert.
Dragonstone fell. Rhaella and Elia became prisoners of the Baratheons.
To preserve his mother's life, Viserys personally went to King's Landing and surrendered himself, only for Robert to smash the young king to death with his hammer, just as he had done to Rhaegar.
'Thankfully, I'm not a dreamer.'
Realizing that everything had only been an illusion, Davos wiped the cold sweat from his brow.
He looked out the window toward the Black Walls. The sun was only just beginning to rise.
Inside the Black Walls, the Volantenes had prepared lodging for foreign guests. But the environment here was far better than any inn Davos had ever stayed in.
The pillows were stuffed with goose down, and beneath him was a soft knitted blanket.
Lying there felt like resting on clouds.
Yet with Viserys's fleet resting on his shoulders, how could he possibly sleep soundly?
He had even left his second son, Allard, aboard the Black Pearl.
To ease the unease in his heart, Davos decided to personally go and check on the fleet anchored in Volantis's harbor.
He left the residence together with his eldest son, Dale.
The two made their way out from within the Black Walls.
The streets inside were wide and clean, birdsong occasionally drifting from the trees along the road. Simply walking around lifted one's spirits.
But years as a smuggler had honed Davos's instincts.
He could feel it clearly—someone was following and watching them.
They passed through the dark, somewhat oppressive gate tunnel of the Black Walls and emerged outside.
Father and son mounted their horses and rode toward the harbor.
Soon, they saw the Volantene fleet.
Volantis possessed the largest harbor in the known world and styled itself the Mistress of the Summer Sea and the Queen of the Rhoyne.
Even under a political climate that favored trade and shunned military force, the size and quality of its fleet were still first-rate.
After the Triarchs permitted Davos to dock the fleet, they stationed at least fifty warships upstream from the Dragonstone fleet.
On one hand, this formed a pincer that boxed the Dragonstone ships in from both sides.
On the other, it prevented the fleet from slipping away to other parts of the Rhoyne.
And that was not the extent of Volantis's precautions.
Feigning indifference, Davos observed his surroundings and noticed that the number of patrolling slave soldiers had increased significantly.
Among them were even soldiers wearing cloaks patterned like tiger stripes—the Tiger Cloaks.
These were without a doubt Volantis's elite.
They normally garrisoned within the Black Walls, responsible for the protection of the nobility.
Their helmets were fashioned into the shape of tiger heads, making it look as though the slaves' own heads were being held within the jaws of the beasts.
As Davos passed these Tiger Cloak soldiers, he occasionally heard phrases like "R'hllor above" or "The Lord of Light protects us," spoken either as exclamations or prayers.
Most of them were followers of R'hllor, the Lord of Light.
It was much like the Westerosi habit of muttering "seven hells" or "gods above" in everyday speech.
Passing them at last, Davos finally saw the Dragonstone fleet, which looked as though it had been locked inside a cage.
The sailors aboard had been carefully selected.
Almost all were from Dragonstone, Tidemarch, the Claw, or the Isle of Crabs.
Many of their families were now in Gohor.
As sailors, they were skilled hands. As soldiers, however, their fighting ability was worrying at best.
If it truly came to blows, breaking through Volantis's defenses would be nearly impossible.
Especially since most aboard were farmers, craftsmen, and women.
Unless the Volantenes were blind, there was no chance they would allow the Dragonstone fleet to leave.
Continuing onward, Davos noticed chains stretched across the river.
The iron chains were linked together in zigzag patterns.
They formed a strange kind of net. Small boats could pass through easily, but large ships would be blocked.
Some of the chains were obviously reinforced quite recently. As for whom they were meant to stop, that went without saying.
'Your Grace… how exactly do you plan to take the fleet out?' Davos sighed inwardly.
These days, he too had been quietly trying to think of solutions for Viserys.
But no matter how much he wracked his brain, he could not see even the slightest possibility.
Without the Triarchs' consent, taking the fleet to Gohor was nothing short of a fantasy.
Even a marriage alliance seemed unlikely.
As a slaveholding city, Volantis placed immense importance on bloodlines. Those eligible to become Triarchs had to descend from noble families of the Valyrian era.
By that standard, Viserys certainly qualified.
Yet Davos had discreetly inquired into all the powerful noble houses of Volantis and found it impossible that any would pay such a price simply to elevate the purity of their bloodline.
Though the Free Cities regarded Westerosi as country bumpkins, there was one thing Westeros did right.
Whether under the Faith of the Seven or the old gods, slavery was forbidden. Even the Dornish, influenced by Rhoynar culture, did not practice slavery.
Only places like the Iron Islands, lands beyond the pale, had anything resembling it.
In Volantis, the ratio of free citizens to slaves was nearly one to five.
To maintain a steady supply of slaves, they not only purchased from Slaver's Bay but also organized slaving parties that ventured upriver along the Rhoyne to seize common folk.
Among those taken were both Rhoynar and Andals.
Davos believed that if Viserys eventually unified Gohor, he would inevitably compete with Volantis for population.
The Volantenes were not fools.
They could see this coming and would never allow the Dragonstone fleet to enter the Rhoyne.
Perhaps for this very reason, they kept such a tight watch on the fleet he had brought.
Just as Davos stood staring at the broad surface of the Rhoyne, lost in thought, a voice pulled him back.
"Ser Davos, enjoying the view?"
Davos turned and saw a young Volantene noble.
He seemed quite young—his name, Davos recalled, was Alios.
Drawing on years of experience at sea, Davos did not respond as the man expected.
Instead, he said, "The view is indeed fine. Before I followed His Grace, I was just a small-time smuggler.
I've always liked watching ships.
But our king entrusted so many warships to my care that I can't help worrying something might go wrong and betray his trust."
The young noble smiled.
"Loyalty is undoubtedly a precious virtue. To have your service is also that Targaryen king's good fortune."
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