The Sealord had arranged for the guests to stay in unique courtyards, each with its main gate painted a different color as a distinct marker. Only one gate was painted red.
Most of the courtyards were currently lit up, with sounds of singing, dancing, opera, playful scolding, or the shouts of swordplay drifting out from within.
Arthur pointed to the unlit courtyard and asked the guard leading the way, "Who stays in the courtyard with the red gate?"
"The guests the Sealord considers most important, mostly foreign kings or heirs to the throne, are arranged to stay there." The guard who had wiped 'Zhanlu' eagerly explained the color-coding of the gates in detail.
Besides showing importance and respect, this practice was also designed for the convenience of servants, given the vast size of the Sealord's Palace.
Arthur was led to a courtyard with a yellow gate. The guard knocked, and 'Shorty' Weiss opened the door. He hadn't entered the main hall earlier, but had been eating and drinking in a smaller hall reserved for attendants.
Arthur thanked the enthusiastic guard and followed Weiss into the residence.
"My Lord, do you need some sobering soup?" Weiss asked, supporting Arthur, who was walking unsteadily. "The Black Pearl's handmaiden came looking for you earlier, asking where you were. She said her lady has been waiting for you."
Arthur had caught a chill on the way back. Plus, the mental fortitude he had forced himself to maintain after leaving the Sealord had relaxed, and meeting someone he trusted made him drop his guard completely.
At this moment, Arthur's vision blurred, his head spun, his tongue felt thick, and his feet were heavy.
"N... no need. I'm not drunk! Where is... the Black Pearl?" At the mention of the Black Pearl, Arthur felt a bit more sober instantly.
"In that room." Weiss pointed to a lit room in the courtyard.
"You're still wearing the vine armor. Do you need help taking it off first? I have to go find my master for sword practice later; I probably won't be back all night."
"You are a top-notch squire. Pity I'm not a knight, or I'd knight you tonight for sure." Arthur burped, patted Weiss's shoulder with a smile, and let him remove the sword and vine armor.
Unexpectedly, Weiss, who usually looked wooden, was truly reliable at critical moments.
He hadn't wasted his cultivation; the boy had really smartened up.
After removing the armor, Weiss scratched his head woodenly and said somewhat embarrassedly, "The Black Pearl's handmaiden taught me to say that."
I knew it. Arthur had felt something was off about Weiss. He thought it was the alcohol, but now he saw Weiss was still his usual wooden self.
"Honesty is the finest quality of a squire. Go find your master for sword practice." Arthur patted Weiss's shoulder reassuringly.
"On the way back, your master told me he wanted to check if your swordsmanship had regressed. He said he'd catch you off guard during practice, so be careful."
---
"Sorry to keep you waiting, my lady." Arthur saw the Black Pearl again. She had changed into a form-fitting black outfit that accentuated her exquisite curves, and her mask was replaced by a violet veil.
If her morning attire was dignified and charming, her evening style was bewitching and alluring.
"Didn't wait long. The bathwater I prepared for you is still hot." The Black Pearl's voice came from under the veil, slightly lazy. She leaned back in a soft chair, holding an apple with a few bites taken out of it.
"Go take a bath first."
Arthur sniffed himself. He did reek of sweat and alcohol. Thanking her, he walked toward the bathhouse.
"Whoa—this is nice."
Arthur pushed open the door and saw a large wooden tub big enough for two people.
Steam rose from the hot water in the tub, making the whole room misty and white.
The water was mixed with flower petals of various colors and milk.
The scent of the petals, released by the heat, filled the room with a faint, pleasant floral fragrance.
"Mmm~~ahh~~"
As Arthur submerged his whole body in the tub, he couldn't help but groan comfortably.
Feeling the warmth all around him, Arthur felt his fatigue vanish, but his drunkenness intensified.
He put a towel over his eyes, closed them, rested his arms on the edge of the tub, and leaned his head back to enjoy this moment of tranquility.
What is Jon thinking right now? He should have thought of me. I forged the real sword he wanted.
It's a sharp sword, but what meaning does a sword have?
Snow! Bastard! People will still see him that way, call him that. And they'll see me and call me the same.
What about Robb? The future Young Wolf. May the gods bless him. I hope the [Ice Sword] makes him more mature and calm.
Is Sansa still sad about Dominic going to the Vale? Or has she forgotten him already?
And that little troublemaker Arya? Being two years older, she should be able to ride a horse now.
Figures flashed through Arthur's mind one by one, finally settling on a pale greatsword—'Dawn', the ancestral sword of House Dayne. He dreamed of it every night when using the [Creation] tactic card.
In his trance, Arthur vaguely heard the door open and light footsteps.
Arthur tried to get up but found his arms incredibly heavy, and his consciousness was fuzzy. He took the towel off his face to look at the newcomer, but the steam obscured his vision, revealing only a hazy silhouette.
"Who... is it?" Arthur asked hoarsely.
"Who else could it be?"
As Arthur heard the Black Pearl's familiar seductive voice, he felt a pair of soft, smooth hands on his stiff shoulders, kneading them.
"Like it?"
This time, the Black Pearl's seductive voice came from above his head. "This is part of the surprise."
Arthur's comfortable exhale was his answer.
The Black Pearl must have studied massage systematically; both her technique and pressure were just right.
Especially when she massaged his head, Arthur's groggy brain almost subconsciously said, "Miss, add..."
Arthur wanted to say "add time," but he felt the Black Pearl wouldn't understand the term. Just as he was trying to phrase it...
"As you wish." The Black Pearl's ambiguous voice came from his ear. "I didn't expect you to guess the surprise I prepared for you."
As the Black Pearl finished speaking, Arthur felt another pair of hands kneading his neck.
Huh? What did I guess?
Wait, wait, wait... there's another expert here?
While Arthur was confused.
"My Lord, is my pressure suitable?" a gentle female voice asked.
Arthur felt the voice was slightly familiar, but his neck was being massaged, preventing him from turning to look. He couldn't help but ask, "The pressure is perfect. Who are you? Have we met before?"
"My Lord, take a guess?"
"Miss Black Pearl's handmaiden?"
"Incorrect. My Lord, keep guessing."
"The courtesan, Daughter of the Dusk?"
Arthur felt the hands massaging his neck stop. Did he guess right?
Arthur remembered the Black Pearl pointing to the Daughter of the Dusk's barge and calling her a friend.
She also said riddle-like things, claiming he wouldn't want to know why they became friends, and that he would find out soon.
"Still incorrect, my Lord. We have met once."
"Back then, you told me, 'You haven't even called me My Lord'."
'You haven't even called me My Lord'? The answer was rejected again. Arthur pondered the woman's hint, feeling his head grow heavier and a wave of nausea rising in his throat.
Never drinking this much again. Feeling the kneading resume on his neck, his vision swam, so he closed his eyes to carefully mull over this little riddle.
Suddenly, the face of a woman drowning in grief appeared in his mind—
—Fanny.
The captain's wife, bent on avenging her husband but lacking the means. Arthur remembered her because of her near-obstinate persistence and the Valyrian steel she paid him with.
I gave her the head of the Lord of Pebble. What happened to her afterwards? Arthur felt his head throbbing more intensely, his thoughts becoming sluggish and disjointed.
Arthur ordered, "Massage my head a bit; I can't quite remember."
But if it really is Fanny, why is she here?
Thinking about this made Arthur feel like his head was expanding, forcing him to stop thinking.
Am I dreaming? But this dream is too real.
"Yes, my Lord."
As his head was massaged, Arthur felt much better. The realistic touch made him dismiss the idea that he was dreaming.
With the massage deepening and his headache lessening, fragmented memories related to Fanny slowly surfaced in his mind.
'Fanny might be dead.
'After drinking a few cups of sweet wine from the skull, she went to the House of Black and White. I haven't seen her since.'
Arthur remembered Vickon's words about Fanny, and the unconcealed fear in his expression when he spoke them.
Thinking of this, despite being soaked in hot water, Arthur felt the hairs on his body stand on end, goosebumps covering his skin. His alcohol-addled brain cleared instantly.
Arthur spoke with difficulty: "Are you Fanny?"
"My Lord, congratulations, you guessed right. But there is no reward."
The woman's previously gentle voice became devoid of any emotion. The hands massaging Arthur's head stopped and were placed back on his neck...