Chapter 88: Volantis' Goodwill
The Dragonpit had also become a sea of joy and excitement. People were delighted to see the friendship between two excellent heirs from both sides of the Narrow Sea, to witness the dance of swords, and to see the Sealord of Braavos and the descendant of the Dragonlords dance together.
Although many felt that the Braavosi were often insincere and untrustworthy, only truly honest when the Iron Bank of Braavos came to collect debts.
Rhaegar and Fergo returned to the viewing platform together and then to their respective seats, to applause, like two victorious generals.
Fergo accepted his loss, his expression returning to normal. He had all the bets, including the beautiful purple sailboat, given to Rhaegar and the noble merchants who had bet on Rhaegar to win.
Rhaegar wanted to advise Fergo to take care of his health, thinking, 'I am not like you; I have the Blood of Fire.' But he reconsidered, thinking that Fergo was so proud that if he said anything more, he would probably offend him completely.
"Young Master, are you alright?" Fergo's bodyguard asked softly with concern.
"I'm fine." Fergo looked at Rhaegar's retreating figure, many thoughts flashing through his mind.
The first day of the tournament had already been so spectacular that everyone agreed no subsequent jousting could surpass it—neither the magical dragon circling three times nor the sword fight between the two excellent heirs.
As night fell, Rhaegar returned from the lively banquet to the Dragonpit Camp. In his tent, Rhaegar examined the purple sailboat and the eight golden cups; spoils of war could be intoxicating.
"Prince, someone is waiting for you outside the Dragonpit. From their accent, they are from the Free Cities. They said if you see this, you will agree," Cesar said.
Cesar took out a drawing, which crudely depicted a tiger and an elephant tearing at each other. Two elephants jointly attacked one tiger; the tiger struggled, clearly at a disadvantage.
The Volantenes are playing a guessing game with me, Rhaegar thought. Since the Century of Blood, Volantis' Tiger Party has been suppressed by the Elephant Party.
The three dragons were sleeping in the tent; soon, one of them would probably be as big as a tent.
Rhaegar allowed the person to enter the Dragonpit Camp, and it was indeed Marajo Maegyr, a merchant from Volantis, a member of the Tiger Party, and a strong contender for the Triarch's seat.
Marajo was clad in a coarse brown robe, his shoes tattered, and his body covered in mud. He covered his face with a cloak, looking like the lowest-class sailor from Flea Bottom. No one would have guessed that this person was the distinguished, elegantly dressed, and arrogant Volantene noble, Marajo.
"Does the future Triarch of Volantis still need to come in disguise to see me? My humble abode is honored by your presence. Once you are elected Triarch, your feet won't touch the ground for an entire year." Rhaegar quickly invited Marajo into his tent, making a joke.
Marajo had not yet been elected Triarch, but given his wealth, lineage, and connections, everyone believed he would surely become a Tiger Party Triarch of Volantis.
"Please forgive me, Prince. I needed to come cautiously, and I hope I haven't displeased you and your dragons," Marajo apologized. "You have no objection to the succession of the Iron Throne, while I have many rivals in the Triarchic election. Your success relies on lineage and talent, while my success requires money and votes. You inherit, we elect." Marajo made a gesture, indicating their different situations.
"My lord, you are truly adventurous," Rhaegar exclaimed, noting Marajo's willingness to take risks, both high and low. Meeting privately could easily draw criticism from election rivals.
"I love challenges, Prince. Daring to run for the Tiger Party while the Elephant Party is in power is an adventure. If I played it safe, I wouldn't be able to run for Triarch so early. I would have to wait until I was fifty within the Elephant Party, always following seniority," Marajo's eyes gleamed with cunning.
Rhaegar gestured for Marajo to sit, eager to hear what insights this future Triarch had.
"Prince, you know that our city of Volantis is vast, with many armies, and we are one of the heirs of the Valyrians. All our Triarchs' lineages can be traced back uninterruptedly to the era of Old Valyria, and you, Prince, come from the noble Valyrian Dragonlords' family. Our bloodlines are connected. You and I will be a little closer than other Free Cities; we bear no ill will toward the Dragonlords—on the contrary, we are very friendly," Marajo said.
"You once used this argument with my ancestor, Aegon I Targaryen, but he did not agree and instead attacked you, Lord Marajo. If you come to persuade me, I am afraid I am powerless. If it is a matter of state, you can find my grandfather, King Jaehaerys II Targaryen. If it is a family matter, you can find my parents…" Rhaegar said indifferently.
"Prince, please don't say that; past events are but wind. Your ancestor was very clever. The chairs of the Volantene Triarchs have changed again and again, while your family's Iron Throne remains as it was, just like your monarchy. What you gain now is my personal friendship—Marajo's—not that of the Free City of Volantis. The Prince should carefully distinguish between the two." Marajo glanced around, seeing the black scale armor, the ordinary steel rings, and the golden cup and purple sailboat Rhaegar had won today.
"What's more, you and I occasionally have the same potential adversaries. The owner of the purple sailboat does not wish to be offended by you or me. More than a hundred years ago, your admiral ancestor, Lord Alyn Oakenfist Velaryon, crushed part of Braavos' fleet, at the cost of emptying the royal treasury to atone, and in turn needing to borrow from the Iron Bank." Marajo pointed to the purple sailboat, his voice very enticing. "Braavosi are extremely pragmatic; they have no true friendships. They rely only on their powerful fleet, the Iron Bank's financial power, and the Faceless Men to extort and conduct business without capital."
"Thank you for your kind words, Lord Marajo. Unfortunately, the three dragons are very young, far from the terrifying combat power of my ancestors. I cannot help you much," Rhaegar said, pouring Marajo a glass of water.
Rhaegar needed to wait for Marajo, the cunning one, to offer something of value in exchange. He was a Prince and a Dragonlord; his friendship was quite expensive.
"The Prince should not be so modest. You are a descendant of the Dragonlords, and now you possess the last three dragons. These dragons will grow larger year by year. Volantis, however, has been declining ever since the war three hundred years ago," Marajo sighed, his eyes gleaming with calculation. "Many people have opinions about our Tiger Party, believing us to be old nobles and warriors, but the Tiger Party also has open-minded and kind people, like me."
Rhaegar agreed. Back then, the Tiger Party, considering Volantis to be the heir of Valyria, expanded wildly. This angered nearly all the Free Cities—including Braavos and Lys—and even Aegon the Conqueror opposed Volantis. The collapse of the war also led to the downfall of the Tiger Party's dominance, which continues to this day. Although Volantis still maintains its facade, it is declining year by year.
"We can share; I will transmit some information to the Prince, and I hope the Prince will do the same," Marajo said.
Rhaegar pondered the meaning of the cooperation. This cooperation was merely a secret alliance between him and Marajo alone—an ambitious and energetic tiger.
"May our friendship be unbreakable, just between you and me, not representing Westeros and Volantis." Rhaegar raised his cup. False friendship was also friendship; some things could not be put on the table.
"May our friendship be unbreakable." Marajo smiled and clinked cups.
"To show my goodwill, I offer you a warning, Prince. You possess the last three dragons, but your King's Landing main line is no longer the only descendant of the Dragonlords. In the Free Cities, many dragonseeds exist. There are many of them, and occasionally they are very mad; you need to be careful of them," Marajo warned.
Rhaegar also knew about this issue. There was a Targaryen princess who went to Essos to sell herself and bore many bastards. Later, Aegon IV Targaryen, Aegon the Unworthy, also visited the Free Cities and would have left descendants. Not to mention the exiled House Blackfyre, which was flourishing; even if there were no male heirs, the female lines were uncertain.
"The crazier they are, the more I need your support. Some claim to be true dragons, but their worth is no more than a copper coin, like Maris Blackfyre." Rhaegar looked at Marajo, calm and composed.
"Excellent! Excellent!" Marajo laughed; he liked to be friends with intelligent people.
Power exists if you believe in it, and not if you don't. Information is incredibly important.
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