Cauliflower Ear was clearly one of the best wrestlers on the Storm. Arthur's brutal, head-on defeat of him not only made many Sistermen mourn their lost bets but also instilled a sense of awe.
For the second match, many Sistermen switched their bets to Arthur, even though his opponent was the ship's captain, Zaren Borrell.
"I'm curious. Why did my uncle believe what you said?" Zaren, who possessed the same large, sturdy build as his uncle Lord Godric, asked.
"He never liked Northerners, let alone a bastard."
Arthur smiled faintly. He sat shirtless on a barrel, beckoning to a nearby Sisterman, who sensibly handed him a cup of rum.
"The words of House Stark are Winter is Coming. These words have been spoken in the North for thousands of years." Arthur took a swig of the rum, frowning slightly at its harsh, burning taste.
"Your uncle is a practical man. He may doubt my words, but he believes in the weight of House Stark."
"Northerner, don't think your name carries any weight on the open sea." Zaren wrapped his wrists with cloth strips, preparing for the fight. He stared at Arthur, who was still casually drinking, and a flash of anger crossed his eyes.
"I don't care who you are or how much you drink!"
"My ancestor, Rodrik Stark, once won Bear Island from the Ironborn in a wrestling match. That gave me an idea." Arthur waved his wooden cup at the surrounding men.
"Although I'm not skilled at wrestling, I think earning the respect of the men on this ship this way is doable.
"If I beat you, will you settle down and listen to me?"
"Let strength do the talking." Zaren threw a few punches in the air, wearing a suit of leather armor. He looked at Arthur seriously. "Since you've rested, let's begin."
Arthur set down his cup and shrugged. The fight with Cauliflower Ear had confirmed that with [The Berserker] active, his physical stats were monstrous.
Whether in speed, agility, or inhuman strength, he was confident he wouldn't lose to anyone in unarmed combat.
Old Yellowtooth finished tallying the bets and announced the start of the match.
"Captain, show this Northerner what Sistermen are made of!"
"You have to win! I put everything I have on you, Northerner!"
Amid the shouts of the crowd, Zaren moved first. Despite his size, he displayed surprising agility, throwing quick punches and kicks aimed at Arthur's vitals.
His strikes were heavy, whistling through the air.
However, he attacked and retreated quickly, clearly wary of Arthur's strength and afraid of being grappled.
Thud... Bam...
The dull sounds of fists meeting flesh were drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.
Arthur gave Zaren some face in this match, making it look like a close fight. He mostly parried and blocked Zaren's attacks.
He didn't fake it too much, though, throwing in a few counterattacks.
He avoided hitting Zaren's face, aiming mostly for the torso protected by leather armor.
Even so, after Arthur grew impatient and planted a solid front kick squarely on Zaren's chest—leaving a clear boot print on the leather—Zaren clutched his chest and stopped. He'd had enough.
Seeing Zaren unable to continue, Arthur ignored him.
"From now on, no one on this ship is forced to wrestle," Arthur announced, establishing his rule.
"When a man goes down and yields, the match stops immediately."
"I don't like seeing people attack a man who's already beaten. If anyone likes doing that, feel free to talk to me anytime." Arthur scanned the crowd, cracking his knuckles and sounding almost disappointed.
"Oh, and by talk, I mean talk to my fists."
After speaking, Arthur tossed a few more gold dragons to the Storm's first mate. He ordered him to buy meat and wine for the crew once they reached Braavos and let everyone relax. Then, he returned to his cabin.
"Zaren, how are you?" The first mate dispersed the crowd, pocketing his winnings and the gold Arthur had given him. He helped Zaren, who was still gasping on the deck, to sit up and patted his back.
"When he threw Cauliflower Ear, you should have known you couldn't beat him."
"I thought... he was just... strong. I didn't expect his technique... and speed to be so good." Zaren's face was red as he struggled to breathe, glancing down at the boot print on his chest.
"Who knew... he was a... monster."
With the first mate's help, Zaren removed his leather armor in the captain's cabin. His large, muscular body was bruised purple and blue, and his chest was a swollen red mass.
"I think he held back against both you and Cauliflower Ear." The first mate ordered a Sisterman skilled in healing to apply salve to Zaren. He took out the gold coins Arthur had given him and bit one to test its purity.
"Looks like we need to behave. He seems reasonable, or at least we need to change how we deal with him."
"If I had to choose again, I'd still fight him." Zaren took a swig of rum to dull the pain. His mouth was as hard as his body.
"If I didn't even have the courage to fight, how could I command my men?"
"Hss..." Zaren winced as the movement pulled at his injuries. He bared his teeth and cursed, "Can you be fucking gentle?"
The Sisterman applying the salve clicked his tongue silently as he listened to their conversation.
Since when did illiterate brutes and smugglers like them start talking about being reasonable?
Was the world changing?
Since Arthur established his dominance through wrestling, the situation for the Braavosi on the ship improved significantly.
When he had nothing else to do, Arthur would come out for fresh air and exercise. He used the basic cards [Strike] and [Dodge] to accelerate his wrestling training, bonding with the wrestling-loving Sistermen—literally "hitting it off" in every sense.
He paid special attention to the Sisterman who had initially threatened to beat the shit out of him, ensuring the man's bowels were thoroughly loosened every day.
Of course, Arthur no longer fought one-on-one; he took on multiple opponents at once. Sometimes, he would tell them stories, like the tale of his ancestor winning Bear Island.
During these days, he would randomly invite Sistermen and Braavosi to dine with him.
Cauliflower Ear would discuss techniques for throwing and being thrown. The first mate talked more about navigating the Bite, avoiding reefs and misleading beacons, and how to bypass customs at White Harbor and Gulltown for smuggling.
Zaren Borrell told him about the thousand-year struggle between the Wolves of the North and the Falcons of the Vale over the Three Sisters.
This was the reason his uncle Godric, and indeed all Lords of the Sisters and their people, disliked Northerners.
When communicating with the Braavosi, Arthur mostly used the Braavosi tongue. As a dialect of High Valyrian, which Arthur had already studied, he picked it up quickly.
The Braavosi sailors worried about their friends and family held hostage on Sweetsister and resented the bullying and oppression from the Sistermen crew.
Captain Victar was the person Arthur spoke with most. He explained the currents of the Narrow Sea and how weather affected sailing.
"The Narrow Sea is stormy. Winter storms are fiercer, autumn storms more frequent," Victar warned him. "Luckily, it's late spring, early summer. Otherwise, this voyage wouldn't be so easy."
Victar also taught him the details of maritime trade and how to deal with customs in various ports.
"Trading in Westerosi ports, it's best to have good relations with the local nobles. In the Free Cities, you need to be familiar with customs officials, or they'll inspect you endlessly, maybe even seize your cargo."
"Of course, no matter where you are, bribes always work."
Victar added quietly at the end, "Except with pirates."