In Volantis, at the very heart of the Black Wall, stood the grand hall where the Triarchs wielded their authority. Its soaring dome was inlaid with vibrant stained glass, and when the noonday sunlight pierced through, shifting hues danced across the polished black marble floor like the silent gaze of the gods themselves.
Deep within this hall, a symbol of supreme power, three Triarchs of Volantis were locked in a heated dispute around the massive council table.
Malaquo Maegyr, the sole Triarch of the Tiger Party, had his aged face flushed red with fury. His thick fingers struck the table with heavy, echoing thuds that reverberated through the vast chamber. He wore the silk robes of his faction, embroidered with the emblem of a roaring golden tiger, and a weighty gold chain hung from his neck—each link engraved with the glorious conquests of his forebears.
His booming voice filled the hall.
"The latest reports confirm the defeat of the Myrish army. The Easterner is advancing on Myr itself. We must act now!
Will we wait until that Easterner devours Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr one by one—until he turns the entire Triarchy into jewels for his crown—and only then wake from our slumber?!"
The Tiger Party represented Volantis's oldest noble bloodlines and martial traditions, believing the world could be conquered through iron and blood. After the fall of the Valyrian Freehold, during the so-called Century of Blood, the Tigers once seized power. They commanded mighty Tigercloak legions and vast fleets, dreaming of restoring Valyria's lost glory.
But their unchecked ambition provoked the united retaliation of the other Free Cities. Volantis suffered a crushing defeat, and the Tiger Party's influence collapsed, its prestige plunging into disgrace.
For three centuries since, the Elephant Party had maintained control of at least two of the Triarch seats, while the Tiger Party was reduced to the role of a sidelined growler. Malaquo's fury stemmed not only from his wariness of Lo Quen, but also from the centuries of humiliation and frustration his party had endured.
Across from him sat the two Triarchs of the Elephant Party, representing the interests of merchants, bankers, and slave masters. They sought the flow of gold and the expansion of trade networks, convinced that true power lay in wealth.
Nyessos Vhassar, a thin, sharp-featured man, idly rubbed the large sapphire ring on his thumb as he spoke. His family served as Volantis's greatest intermediary in the slave trade of Slaver's Bay, controlling countless routes that carried human cargo.
"Lord Malaquo," he said smoothly, "anger blinds the eyes of wisdom. This Easterner—yes, he has stirred up storms in the Disputed Lands. But consider this: after conquering Tyrosh and Lys, he did not dismantle their slave systems. Quite the opposite—war has only deepened the hunger of nobles and workshop owners for more slaves.
Over the past year, the number of slaves sent to the Disputed Lands has risen by forty percent compared to times of peace. Wealth is flowing ceaselessly into our coffers. At such a time, provoking a powerful force that poses no threat to our trade routes would be folly. We should first observe him, perhaps even establish mutually beneficial trade relations. That is the path the Elephant Party would take."
Doniphos Paenymion, the other Elephant Triarch, was a portly man whose round face always carried a genial smile. His family's wealth rested on a broader base—commodities ranging from Eastern spices and silks to Western timber and ore.
"Lord Nyessos speaks true," he said cheerfully. "War—especially when it's someone else's war—can be a marvelous opportunity. Tyroshi pear brandy, Myrish lace and glass, Lysene wine… the supply of such luxuries has been disrupted, and prices have soared as if they'd sprouted wings. My fleets sail those seas, and the profits are staggering. As for whether this Easterner might threaten Volantis—"
He let out a short laugh and patted his round belly.
"We have the impregnable Black Wall, the well-armed Tigercloak army tens of thousands strong, and we can always hire the finest sellsword Companies in Essos. If that Easterner dares extend his claws toward us… we'll show him that Volantis is no soft-footed Triarchy weakling."
Malaquo stared at his two colleagues, lost in their illusions of wealth and security, and a suffocating mix of helplessness and rage welled up within him.
He forced down his rage, his voice trembling slightly from the strain.
"You short-sighted fools! You see only the gold glittering before your eyes, yet fail to recognize the colossal beast The Easterner will become once he consolidates the resources of the Three Daughters. His army, tempered in wildfire, and his ambition—boundless—will never stop at the Myr River. When he has digested his victories, sharpened his claws and fangs, and marches upon your gates, you will regret this!"
Nyessos remained unmoved, even gracefully lifting his crystal goblet to sip the chilled red wine.
"The loyalty and combat prowess of the Tiger Robes are beyond question, Lord Malaquo. You worry too much. The Third Daughter's defeat stemmed from her own weakness and division, not from some invincible foe. Volantis will not repeat that mistake."
Doniphos nodded in agreement, his plump fingers drumming lazily on the tabletop.
"Precisely. Lord Nyessos speaks the truth. The Third Daughter couldn't even muster a proper army—her defeat was inevitable. We of Volantis have the Black Wall, the Tiger Robe Army, our fleet, and unmatched wealth. That The Easterner is no threat."
Seeing the two remain unmoved, a flicker of grim resolve passed through Malaquo's eyes. He knew that the Tiger Party's strength alone could not force intervention. Taking a deep breath, as if steeling himself, he drew a wax-sealed letter from the inner pocket of his silk robe.
"Since both lords are so convinced Volantis stands impregnable and have no interest in taking the offensive..."
Malaquo's voice turned icy again. He slammed the letter down onto the dragonbone tabletop and pushed it toward them.
"Then perhaps you should see this. A 'proposal' from Braavos."
Doniphos's smile froze. With a trace of reluctance, he picked up the letter, muttering suspiciously,
"Braavosi? What new trick are they plotting now? Don't tell me they're trying to coax us into joining forces to provoke that harbinger of doom…"
He unfolded the parchment and scanned its contents quickly.
Seconds later, his muttering stopped dead. His shrewd merchant eyes widened, the usual genial smile replaced by stunned disbelief. He snapped his head up to stare at Malaquo.
"The Braavosi… they actually want to do this?!"
Nyessos, noticing Doniphos's reaction, immediately reached for the letter. His sharp, hawk-like eyes swept over the words, and his usually calm face betrayed visible shock—tinged even with a hint of pain.
"This… How much would it cost to employ those people? Wouldn't the price be too steep?"
Seeing the two finally shaken, Malaquo's taut nerves eased slightly. He let out a cold snort.
"Compared to mobilizing the Tiger Robes and hiring a massive fleet to march deep into the Disputed Lands for open war against The Easterner, what are a few golden dragons? This is the best non-intervention plan the Braavosi could conceive. It costs us not a single soldier, spares us from direct entanglement in the conflict, and yet removes that unsettling threat. Isn't that far more effective than your fantasies of pacifying a conqueror with trade and the Black Wall?"
Doniphos and Nyessos exchanged a long look.
Silence spread through the vast hall, broken only by the silent gaze of the gods above the dome.
Finally, Doniphos gave a slow nod. Nyessos pondered quietly, his fingers absently rubbing the sapphire ring on his thumb—a silent sign of consent.
Malaquo watched their reluctant compromise without a trace of satisfaction, only disdain for the shortsightedness of his Elephant Party colleagues.
If not for Braavos's unexpected "proposal," Volantis might well have stood idly by while The Easterner grew to full strength upon the ruins of its neighbors.