A hot wind swept through Volantis, making the air humid and oppressive. People sweated heavily as they moved through the crowded streets. The city was filled with a powerful blend of scents—fish, flowers, sewage, and decay.
Located at the southeastern edge of the Free Cities, east of the Disputed Lands and at the mouth of the Rhoyne River, Volantis is the Free City closest to Valyria. It proudly calls itself the Queen of the Rhoyne and the Mistress of the Summer Sea.
The city stretches across both banks of the river and extends into the surrounding hills and swamps. It resembles a pair of thick, moist lips—rich, fertile, and decadent—with ships arriving from every corner of the known world.
Volantis is also famous for its sweetness. Vast beet fields surround the city, and beets find their way into nearly every meal. One of the city's specialties, cold beet soup, is thick and rich like purple honey. It is even said that the wine tastes sweet.
---
"Make way for the great Magistrate Marajo!"
"Make way for the great Magistrate Nesisso!"
Two formations of twelve Unsullied spearmen appeared, dressed in splendid armor and tiger-skin cloaks. Behind them marched the elephants of Volantis's two magistrates as they advanced proudly toward the harbor.
The magistrates' elephants were enormous gray beasts covered in beautifully enameled armor that clinked softly with every step. Massive towers were mounted on their backs, serving as mobile thrones for the magistrates.
According to Volantene custom, magistrates are considered sacred figures. During their year in office, their feet must never touch the ground.
"Clear the way!"
"Clear the way!"
The Unsullied shouted continuously as sailors and slaves hurried aside.
Scholars estimated that in Volantis, slaves outnumbered free citizens by five to one.
The slaves were easy to identify. Every one of them bore tattoos. Some wore blue feather masks tattooed across their faces. Others had lightning bolts running from forehead to chin. Some displayed leopard spots, coins, skulls, kettles, or other symbols on their cheeks.
Among the wealthy, walking was considered undignified. The upper classes traveled by palanquin or elephant cart. Magistrates, however, rode in enormous elephant fortresses.
Marajo was a tall, thin old man and a leading member of the Tiger Party.
Nesisso was fat, robust, and a highly successful slave master.
The Tiger Party consisted primarily of Volantis's ancient noble families and military leaders. They believed conquest should be achieved through force of arms.
The Elephant Party was made up largely of merchants and financiers. They favored economic domination through trade.
For nearly three hundred years after the Century of Blood, the Elephant Party had dominated Volantene politics, usually holding at least two magistrate seats.
---
"How did your operations in Tyrosh go?" Magistrate Nesisso Vaysam asked.
"A complete success," Marajo replied from his tower. "Rhaenys has dragged Tyrosh into the war, but this is only the first step toward restoring our former glory."
"The people of Tyrosh are little more than bed slaves and whores. The Liberator's message has terrified them. Without our support, Rhaenys would never have dared to act."
Nesisso sighed.
"We were once the greatest daughter of Valyria, yet now our strength has faded. The wars of centuries past devastated our population. Entire districts were abandoned and reclaimed by the wetlands. Half our fountains no longer flow, while the rest have become stagnant pools or dried-up basins."
"Which is why the Tiger and the Elephant must unite against the Stag and the Dragon," Marajo said.
"In this age, gold may buy loyalty—but only iron and blood can command obedience."
As he gazed over the harbor, Marajo reflected bitterly on Volantis's decline.
For four hundred years, his beloved city had been fading.
He saw merchants from Oldtown and King's Landing trading beside counterparts from Braavos, Pentos, and Myr. There were hairy Ibbenese sailors, pale-skinned Qartheen traders, dark-skinned Summer Islanders wrapped in feathered cloaks, and even masked shadowbinders from distant Asshai.
The elephant fortresses continued forward.
Soon, the magistrates passed rows of severed heads mounted on iron poles. Plaques beneath them listed their crimes.
Some had murdered relatives.
Others were slaves who had rebelled against their masters.
Still others were spies sent by the Storm King to stir unrest.
Marajo frowned.
I need to act quickly, he thought. There are far too many angry slaves in Volantis.
---
The procession soon arrived at the military harbor.
Marajo was preparing to lead the great fleet to war, while Nesisso boarded a warship to bid him farewell.
Both walked on luxurious carpets. Neither was permitted to touch bare ground.
"When I depart, Volantis will be in your hands," Marajo said.
"I understand," Nesisso replied. "My fortune was built on the slave trade. I can never reconcile with that Baratheon bastard and the Dragon Princess."
"The Storm King has no right to interfere with slavery," Nesisso continued angrily. "The slave trade isn't merely important to Slaver's Bay, Tyrosh, or Myr. It's a cornerstone of global commerce—and he shut it down."
Marajo nodded.
"Without the Triarchy, our business suffers greatly. Without slaves, our way of life becomes impossible."
"Throughout Volantis, slaves produce our food, clean our streets, educate our children, guard our walls, row our warships, and fight our battles."
"Now those same slaves gaze westward, waiting for the Storm King—the so-called Liberator."
"The old nobility cannot tolerate it. Even the common people are beginning to fear what may come."
He paused.
"Let us work together. The city is calling for war. At the next election, one of the remaining magistrates will certainly be replaced."
"I hope you're right," Nesisso laughed.
Then Marajo lowered his voice.
"My greatest concern is the followers of the Red God—and the slaves."
Nesisso's expression darkened.
"If the Red Priests had any sense, they would keep their mouths shut. Benerro spreads dangerous prophecies every night. Thousands gather in the temple square to hear him speak."
"He claims Lightbringer has appeared and that the world will be cleansed by fire."
"He says Volantis will burn if we oppose the Storm King."
"Why not simply kill him?" Nesisso asked.
Marajo shook his head.
"Many of the Tiger Cloaks worship the Lord of Light. I cannot order them to attack a Red Priest."
"Then hire mercenaries."
"Hmph. Mercenaries only worship gold. Their loyalty lasts only until a better offer appears."
He continued.
"The exiled slave masters from Tyrosh and Myr, along with envoys from Slaver's Bay, are spreading gold throughout the city. Their stories only fuel unrest."
---
The enemies of the Storm King spread their own tales.
They claimed Gendry Storm was a bloodthirsty tyrant who mutilated anyone who opposed him.
They claimed he was a warlock who traded flesh and blood for power, cursed King Robert to death, and sought to murder the king's legitimate heirs.
Others whispered that he was consumed by lust, seducing noblewomen throughout the Free Cities before killing them or handing them over to Sandor Clegane.
Marajo dismissed the rumors with a wave.
"Once I win this war, all slander will disappear."
"They're fighting in King's Landing now."
"And while they do, I will strike directly at the Stag's nest."
Nesisso blinked.
"What? You're not attacking Tyrosh or Myr?"
"No."
Marajo shook his head.
"We already lost the old war."
"The quickest path to victory now is to kill the true enemy."
"If the Storm King dies, everything else will collapse."
"That's incredibly risky," Nesisso protested. "The distance alone is enormous."
"Under ordinary circumstances, yes."
Marajo smiled.
"But the will of the gods will grant our fleet favorable winds."
A Red Priest stepped from behind him.
The man was short and stout, with pale skin and prominent features. Flame tattoos covered his cheeks, chin, and bald scalp.
"A Red Priest?" Nesisso exclaimed. "One who doesn't follow Benerro?"
The priest bowed.
"I am Vaqiro, an exiled servant of the Lord of Light."
"Lightbringer burns brightly above us, but not all interpret the prophecy the same way."
"The Storm King is not a savior."
"He is a tyrant who forces even the gods to kneel."
"Baratheon carries the blood of House Durrandon, and Durran Godsgrief was a blasphemer."
Vaqiro raised his hand.
"Bring him forward."
Flames suddenly erupted nearby.
A half-naked man had been tied to a ship's mast.
Nesisso stared in horror.
"What is this?"
"A gift to the gods," Vaqiro replied calmly.
"In exchange, they will send the strong northern winds our fleet requires."
"Who is he?"
The priest smiled.
"An ordinary slave."
"Though he also carries the blood of House Rowan through a noble bastard line."
"These Westerosi bloodlines possess unique power."
"It took me a long time to gather enough suitable sacrifices."
The flames intensified.
The man screamed in agony as fire consumed his flesh.
His cries echoed across the harbor while the smell of burning meat filled the air.
Nesisso turned pale.
Marajo remained completely unmoved.
At last, Vaqiro nodded.
"It is done."
"The winds will come soon."
"We depart immediately."
Nesisso swallowed nervously before forcing a smile.
"Then I wish you fair winds, Magistrate Marajo."
Marajo smiled.
"And I intend to take them."
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