After receiving the Old Turtle's assurance, Viserys also gave Malaqo and the other two triarchs a "firm promise" of his own.
He stated that he wished to exchange part of the gold for weapons, armor, grain, cloth, and other supplies.
Moreover, he insisted that the fleet would not be handed over until all the requested goods were fully prepared.
All supplies were to be piled directly at the docks.
Preparing everything would take close to twenty days.
When Malaqo heard Viserys's request, he agreed almost immediately. After all, the demand to hand over the sails had indeed been excessive.
It was understandable that the young king harbored some resentment.
He treated it as nothing more than humoring a child.
Viserys, Arthur, and Lothan went together to the harbor where the fleet lay anchored.
By now, all the sails had been removed from the warships.
They looked like dragons stripped of their wings. Only bare masts remained, standing stark and pitiful against the sky.
"Don't worry," Viserys said as he stood by the riverbank, looking at the mountains of supplies stacked along the docks.
"When the time comes, the River Old Man will raise the waters of the Rhoyne, flooding over Volantis's gates and chains. Our fleet will pass through during the high tide."
"Elder Lothan."
"Your Grace."
"When the time comes, we'll raise a little fog and move all these supplies away."
"As you command, Your Grace."
Viserys intended to take everything.
The fleet?
He was not giving it away.
The supplies?
He wanted all of them. In any case, the Volantene fleet would never dare enter Chroyane.
Once his ships reached Gohor, without two hundred thousand troops and an equally massive fleet, no one would be able to break in.
As for whether this would damage his reputation, Viserys considered himself the king of the Rhoynar.
Volantis's slaving parties had ravaged the Rhoyne for years.
He was merely collecting a bit of interest.
He felt no guilt at all.
Time quickly reached the day agreed upon by the River Elder and Viserys.
Because they needed to withdraw discreetly, Viserys took Arthur and the others to the theater.
That night, they did not return to the Black Wall.
Viserys glanced at the sky.
It was about the hour of the eels.
The time when the riverfolk were most active. That was exactly when the River Elder had told him to prepare.
Inside a private box, Viserys opened the door. Arthur stood guard outside.
Arthur met his king's gaze and gave a silent nod.
Escorted by their guards, they left the theater along a preplanned route and headed straight for the harbor.
"Are Ser Davos and the others already aboard?" Viserys asked.
"Yes, Your Grace. Elder Lothan and his people are ready as well."
"Good. Whether Gohor can hold depends on this moment."
Arthur's face was taut as he nodded solemnly.
Disguised, the group arrived at the harbor. In the distance, the Rhoyne roared and surged.
Using the sound of the river to mask their movements, Viserys and his party approached swiftly.
On the water, Lothan and his water-mages were already in position.
Lothan sat cross-legged inside a ship's cabin. Suddenly, he opened eyes as dark as the night sky.
He felt a powerful surge of water magic.
The intensity of it made his face fill with disbelief. This was something only the legendary water warlocks were said to possess.
Lothan could not understand how Viserys, so young, had become one—something that had not appeared for centuries.
"Perhaps the Valyrians truly are extraordinary," he muttered to himself, forcing a bit of comfort.
Then he turned and issued orders to his subordinates.
"His Grace is casting a spell. Pass it on—everyone prepare."
"Yes, Elder!"
The water-mages aboard Lothan's ship sprang into action.
Without sails, they needed dense fog to buy time for the fleet's escape. And since they were already at it, they might as well take Volantis's supplies along with them.
At the harbor, Tiger Cloaks were still patrolling.
"Once the Targaryen fleet is handed over, we'll finally get some rest."
"Indeed. Such a fine fleet, and the triarchs got it for barely a tenth of its worth."
"That little king was too foolish. Choosing Gohor of all places."
The Tiger Cloak soldiers assigned to watch the Dragonstone fleet chatted idly.
Though they were slaves, slaves were not all the same.
As the most trusted armed force of the nobles within the Black Wall, their living conditions were better than those of many free families.
Some of their officers were even allowed to form households of their own.
For slaves treated as nothing more than speaking tools, this was unimaginable. That was precisely why the Tiger Cloaks were fiercely loyal to Volantis's nobility.
They had even taken part in multiple suppressions of slave uprisings.
"Is it… fog?" one of them muttered.
As they talked, they noticed a milky-white mist spreading across the water, smooth as silk.
In just a few heartbeats, it thickened rapidly.
For a moment, it felt as though their ships were floating on flowing milk.
"I've never seen fog this thick."
The Tiger Cloaks guarding the fleet suddenly realized that the ship where Lothan had been visible moments ago was now completely swallowed by white mist.
One of them let out a quiet sigh.
Elsewhere, news of the fog on the river reached Alios, who was asleep.
"Fog is just fog," he said groggily. "As long as the gates are shut, it doesn't matter."
In his view, without sails, even if the fleet somehow leapt over the gates, how far could it go?
If Viserys dared to flee with the fleet, Alios would have every excuse to send ships after them.
Any captured vessels would cost Volantis nothing, and they could even squeeze Viserys for compensation.
By all rights, Malaqo and the other triarchs had been cautious enough.
They had used their own fleet to hem in the Dragonstone ships from both directions, dispatched Tiger Cloaks to keep watch, and even tripled the guards at the gates.
But the one helping Viserys was the River Old Man.
The being who had witnessed the fall of Rhoynar civilization.
On another ship, Davos also noticed the spreading fog. At once, the men he had prepared sprang into action.
Soldiers moved to restrain the Tiger Cloaks, while sailors and farmers grabbed whatever they could carry.
"The fog's getting thicker!"
The Tiger Cloaks watching the fleet began to sense something was wrong. When people lose their sight, fear comes instinctively.
He tried to call out to his companions, but at some point a metallic, bloody scent filled the air.
Terror wrapped around him like a thick cocoon. Unable to endure the darkness any longer, he fled blindly in one direction.
He did not get far.
A broad sword flashed, and his head fell to the ground.
___________
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