Braavos had two main harbors for merchant ships.
One was the Purple Harbor, located in the north of the city beneath the domes and towers of the Sealord's Palace. It was reserved strictly for Braavosi ships.
The other was the Ragman's Harbor in the west, designated for foreign merchant vessels.
The Storm, having cleared customs at the Chequy Port, was now docked here.
Compared to the Purple Harbor, the Ragman's Harbor was simpler, rougher, dirtier, and far noisier.
Braavos lived and breathed by the sea, and many made their living around the Ragman's Harbor. It was a melting pot of humanity.
There were stevedores to move cargo, ropemakers, and shipwrights to repair vessels.
There were also taverns, brewers, bakers, mummers, and prostitutes catering to the sailors.
And, of course, the beggars who couldn't scrape a living any other way.
Under the cover of night, Arthur stood at the bow of the Storm, dressed in a set of black silk clothes he had bought, blending perfectly into the darkness.
His tour of Braavos earlier had been intended just for sightseeing.
To his surprise, the trip had unlocked several Tactic Cards in his Three Kingdoms System interface.
Arthur stared at the panel, reading the effects of the newly unlocked cards one by one.
[Creation] (Original: Wu Zhong Sheng You / Something from Nothing): Allows the user to draw two additional cards of any type, or choose to increase internal mana capacity. (The energy cost of using this increases with each use per day).
[Negation] (Original: Wu Xie Ke Ji / Nullification): Nullifies a magical effect targeting the user or someone the user touches.
[Dismantle] (Original: Guo He Chai Qiao / Burning Bridges): By locking eyes with a target, strips a specific magical unit of its next cast spell or magical ability.
[Snatch] (Original: Shun Shou Qian Yang / Sleight of Hand): Steals a spell or magical ability from a magical unit, granting one-time use of that magic. (Requires physical contact).
[Insight] (Original: Zhi Ji Zhi Bi / Know Thyself, Know Thy Enemy): Reads a portion of the target's memories. (Requires possession of one of the target's eyes).
Reading the descriptions, Arthur's mind raced with wild possibilities.
Is a dragon considered a magical unit? If I use [Snatch] on a dragon, can I breathe dragonfire?
Am I the dragon now?
Is dragonfire considered magic? If so, could [Negation] make me immune to it?
Am I the Unburnt now?
[Insight] is an incredible intelligence tool, though the cost is steep—one eye per read.
[Dismantle] is practically a silence spell. I wonder if it works on active magic? If so, could I stare down the Night King and make his wight army collapse?
Confirmed: The eyes have it.
Of course, wild theories aside, Arthur hadn't forgotten the feeling of being drained dry and comatose for seven days after using [Pact of the Grove].
That was why, among the unlocked cards, the one that excited him most—the absolute game-changer—was [Creation].
For him, [Creation] was literal: creating something from nothing.
Not only did it bypass the limit of using only two cards per day, but it also increased his mana capacity, reducing the physical burden of using Tactic Cards.
Just as Arthur was debating whether to test [Creation] tonight, Victar found him at the bow.
"How do you like Braavos?" Victar's face was no longer clouded with worry. The hunch caused by the loss of the Wavebreaker was gone, and he stood tall again.
"It is the greatest of the Free Cities that rose after the Doom of Valyria destroyed the Freehold," he said with pride.
The Valyrian Freehold had been a massive empire, commanding over three hundred dragons at its peak.
It was destroyed in a cataclysm known as the Doom of Valyria. All the dragonlord families and their dragons perished, except for the Targaryens, who would later conquer Westeros.
Twelve years before the Doom, Daenys the Dreamer foresaw the destruction of Valyria by fire. She persuaded her father to move their family away before the disaster struck.
This made the Targaryens the sole surviving dragonlord family, the only ones left with dragon blood.
"It's amazing in every sense." Victar's booming voice snapped Arthur out of his thoughts. "I love this place. It's my lucky city."
"I can tell by your clothes," Victar nodded approvingly at Arthur's black silk attire.
"I've sent word to the insurance merchant I signed the contract with. We meet tomorrow morning."
Arthur had already briefed Victar on the insurance scheme. Whether out of gratitude or self-preservation, Victar was willing to be the bridge.
"If the merchant pays out, what will you do with the money?" Arthur leaned back against the railing, elbows resting on the wood.
"Settle here, or sail again?"
"The money?" Victar frowned, confused. "You're giving the money to me?"
Then realization dawned. "I don't want the money. I just want my sons and my crew back from Sweetsister."
When Arthur didn't speak immediately, Victar pointed to a vendor hawking seafood from a boat below.
"As for the future... I'll probably settle in Braavos. Buy a small boat, become a fisherman. My sons can sell clams and oysters like him."
"This isn't a test. I was your passenger, even if you didn't get me to my destination," Arthur said softly, seeing Victar's hesitation.
"You learned what kind of man I am on the way here. Since I said it, the money is yours. Consider it the foundation of our mutual trust."
"And don't worry about your sons and crew. Lord Godric is a practical man. Once he sees the value we bring, he'll release them."
"What do you want me to do?" Victar was silent for a long time before gritting his teeth. "I will follow your lead from now on."
"I admire your experience at sea. I want you to be a captain in my fleet." Arthur smiled, genuinely pleased by Victar's resolve.
Over the past few days, Arthur had seen that Victar was indeed a seasoned captain who cared for his crew. His character and ability were solid.
If Arthur wanted to build a merchant fleet, Victar was talent he couldn't afford to miss.
"I told you before, my uncle is the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North," Arthur explained his plan.
"I have an estate near Winterfell that produces high-quality peach wine and processed lumber.
"I want you to sail between White Harbor and Braavos, handling the trade for me."
"Peach wine and lumber?" Victar stroked his chin, thinking. "Braavos is starved for lumber; it will sell for a good price. But how good is the wine?"
Braavos had almost no trees. Firewood had to be barged in. The pine trees planted as windbreaks around the city were illegal to cut.
This made timber prices in Braavos higher than almost anywhere else, especially quality wood for shipbuilding.
In Braavos, even dried horse dung sold for a good price—though supply was limited, since here, boats were horses.
"I drank the plum wine on your Wavebreaker," Arthur replied. "My peach wine is better than that, at least."
"As for the profit split..."
"You pay Winterfell directly for the lumber and wine. For the first run, I'll tell them not to charge you upfront." Arthur held up three fingers.
"I won't interfere with the selling price. I only take thirty percent of the profit."
"Uh... isn't that too generous?" Victar rubbed his hands together nervously.
"I would have expected a fifty-fifty split at least."
"Crossing the Narrow Sea carries great risks; I've seen that with my own eyes." Arthur waved his hand, signaling Victar to let him finish.
"And that seventy percent isn't free. When I need ships, I will requisition them. And you cannot refuse."
"How could I refuse?" Victar thumped his chest. "My sons and I can never repay your kindness."
Kindness was indeed a way to ensure loyalty.
But kindness could eventually be repaid in full.
Arthur had thought long and hard about how to build a power base in Braavos, a place where he was a stranger with no roots.
In the end, he decided that driving loyalty through profit was more stable and reliable.
Share the profits, share the risks.
This was the code of conduct he had set for himself on the way to Braavos.
It was why he only asked for thirty percent.
Besides this thirty percent from the shipping trade, Arthur's main income came from the upstream supplier—the Peach Garden in the Wolfswood. Before leaving, he had already agreed that he would receive half the profits generated by the estate.