Before the duel, Syrio gave Viserys a special lesson.
North of Braavos, a vast ocean stretched out, with crab boats dotting the surface.
The westernmost part of the Shivering Sea, from Skagos and the Great Crag to the Sarne Delta, was the richest fishing ground in the known world.
This fishing ground was mostly managed by Braavos, though deep-sea crabbers rarely came to these inshore grounds; their hunting was more dangerous.
On the grey-green sea, Viserys Targaryen, along with Captain Lingo and Syrio, the former First Sword of the Sea Lord, huddled at the bow, saltwater splashing their faces, tasting salty and bitter.
They had been adrift for several days, feeling this was a way to experience life, a journey.
Viserys now understood why so many loved the sea; seeing this vast domain, everyone felt like their own king, sensing an atmosphere of rushing towards freedom...
Gales and huge waves swept over them. Although their crab boat was not small, it was but an insect compared to the vast ocean.
Grey-green waves rolled one after another, pushing the boat to sway from side to side.
It was said that the most terrifying waves were taller than city walls and could swallow any ship. Viserys felt that was no mere legend.
"Hold on tight!" the helmsmen shouted.
"It truly is terrifying," Viserys said, feeling the great power of the storm and the ocean, summoning wind and rain.
"This is nothing," the sailors said proudly. "The storms in the White Waste are even bigger than here."
Inshore storms were commonplace for these toughest and most seasoned sailors.
Some waves were as big as houses, truly frightening.
Viserys watched the raging waves, which moved with the wind, roaring, and carried the scent of currents and tides.
"You're lucky," Lingo said. "There's a storm now, but it's not a big one. The sea is a cruel mistress, but we have no choice; sailors make their living from ships."
Viserys stood up, feeling the power of the sea.
"Have you seen anything strange out at sea?" Viserys asked curiously. He wondered if they would see sea monsters and wights if they reached the far north.
"We haven't, perhaps because we haven't truly reached the far north. But there are such legends at sea," Lingo replied. "The most terrifying things at sea are ice fog, ice dragons, and sea monsters. If it's blue ice fog, it drifts over the water, and all ships it encounters will be frozen; when night falls, drowned ghosts will emerge from the water and drag the living into the ocean abyss. Or there are mermaids, paler and more evil than the southern ones, with black-scaled tails, who drag sailors to their deaths."
In these legends, cold and evil were a recurring theme.
Viserys did not mention the Others; it seemed that north of the Shivering Sea, perhaps Braavos would also face a wight disaster in the future.
However, these were long-term plans; for now, it was about fighting the Titan's Bastard.
"The decisive battle is still a few days away. Preston will surely find some master swordsmen to spar with the Titan's Bastard," Syrio said. "But I will teach you another method."
Viserys already understood that the techniques Syrio taught were about inner peace and the movement of nature.
Compared to noisy sparring, this method was more skillful and better trained one's mind.
"Watch the waves, watch the sea, Viserys," Syrio said. "Water is the source of the Water Dance."
"Scenery, water." Viserys looked at the surrounding sky and sea, busy amidst chaos and the sound of swords everywhere. He indeed rarely observed scenery in this way.
Viserys watched the waves on the sea stack up, one upon another, as if different forces were superimposed.
"My sword strikes should be like the waves, each higher than the last, with an unending flow," Viserys thought as he watched the magnificent stacking waves.
Most swordsmen found it difficult to achieve this state, but Viserys's attributes were high and balanced, making it entirely possible for him to do so.
The ocean exerted its mighty power at will, the boat rose and fell with it, and the sailors felt out the force.
In the vast expanse of sky and sea, sailboats floated like dragonflies on the water, oars rising and falling in unison.
"True Insight is to observe everything, not just people, but also the environment," Syrio said. "There is not much more I can teach you; this is what you should learn."
Viserys nodded: "Insight, true Insight."
This was about expanding the scope of attention, not just to the opponent, but to observe the entire external surroundings.
Viserys felt that if the Water Dancer's The Way of Insight truly reached its peak, it seemed to counter the Faceless Men.
Because the Faceless Men blurred their faces, a magical trick, while the highest realm of the Water Dancer was Insight.
Hardness and softness, lightness and weight, speed and slowness—these were the basic operations of a warrior, and Insight was above all these forces.
"I don't quite understand those principles you speak of; the only thing I understand is that practice makes perfect," Lingo said. "After spending a long time at sea, a sailor can hear the voice of the sea, hear the movement of the wind, and know where the most fertile fishing grounds are."
"All skills are the same," Syrio agreed with Lingo.
Still as a shadow, swift as a snake—the truths of the Water Dance became clearer in Viserys's heart. He felt that he might be on the verge of touching the bottleneck of the Water Dance.
"What do you see?" Syrio asked.
"The wind blows the waves, the waves stack together, one wave higher than the last," Viserys said. "My sword strikes are also like this."
"You have learned enough," Syrio said with certainty. "It's time for us to return, Captain."
"Very good." Lingo gave the order, and the ship officially carried the group back to Braavos.
The crab boat cut through the sea, and the mist also receded layer by layer.
The sails were like churning purple wings, emblazoned with the symbols of rum and large crabs.
Viserys turned to look, a line of rocky ridges suddenly rising from the sea, steep slopes covered with Scots pine and black spruce.
A gap was directly ahead, where the titan stood, eyes gleaming, long green hair flying in the wind.
Viserys looked at the titan ahead; his legs straddled the gap, each foot planted on a mountain.
His broad shoulders loomed over the rugged peaks, his legs made of solid rock, the same texture as the black granite sea reef where he stood.
A green bronze battle skirt was tied around the titan's waist, his breastplate was also bronze, and he wore a crowned bronze half-helmet. His flowing hair was dyed green hemp rope, and his eyes were two caves with large bonfires burning within them.
One of his hands rested on the left ridge, bronze fingers clutching a giant rock; the other hand stretched towards the sky, gripping the hilt of a broken sword.
Viserys watched the ships passing through; the titan was terrifyingly large.
"the titan is the symbol of Braavos. I hope you achieve victory, just like Braavos," Syrio said.
"The Warrior grants me strength," Viserys said.
"You must win, exiled prince!"
"Crush those lackeys of the Pleystein Family!" the sailors cheered excitedly.
The sailors truly and deeply detested the Pleystein Family.
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