The sunlight of the Narrow Sea was scorching and dazzling, turning the seawater into a shifting expanse of broken gold.
Inside the cabin of the Shy Maid, however, a gravity permeated the air, in stark contrast to the brightness outside.
A sea chart was spread across the rough wooden table. Jon Clinton stood beside it, his finger pointing at the location of Lys on the map, his brow furrowed.
The lines of his clean-shaven jaw were taut, and the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes seemed deeper in the dim light.
"The news is too chaotic, Aegon," he began, his voice low and steady, yet carrying a lingering trace of doubt.
In private, he still addressed the young man before him by this more intimate name.
"Something has certainly happened in Lys, but what exactly? Ten merchants bring ten different stories: a Tyrosh occupation, a Volantis raid, divine punishment, the resurrection of a Valyrian Dragonlord... the tales get more bizarre as they go."
He looked up, his gaze sharp as he turned toward Xiao Griffin sitting opposite him.
"We should pause our voyage, at least until more definitive news arrives. Charging blindly into a sea where the situation is unclear is not a wise move."
The young man known as Xiao Griffin listened intently, his short hair, carefully dyed indigo, fluttering gently in the sea breeze.
This color masked his original hair color and had become a symbol of his life in exile.
His face bore a focus uncharacteristic of his age, but the spirit in his eyes often left Jon in a daze.
"Lord Griffin, I understand your caution," Xiao Griffin spoke, his voice clear and his tone possessed of a propriety and composure beyond his years. "It is precisely because the news is chaotic that we must arrive as soon as possible."
He turned to Jon, those bright purple eyes beneath his blue hair staring directly at the other man, containing not the recklessness common in youths, but a clear, restrained sharpness.
"If Lys is truly in trouble, whether from an external invasion or internal strife..."
He spoke at a steady pace, his logic clear: "Then now is the time when allies are most needed, and when an ally's sincerity is most tested."
"If we turn back or wait in the open sea, what will those in Lys who are watching and might support us think?"
"They will see a prince who hesitates at the first sign of trouble."
"But if we go," he added, slightly emphasizing his words, "if we can stand firm amidst the chaos, show our strength, and offer help."
"Even if it's just to show a firm stance, then what Lys gives us in the future will not just be an investment, but loyalty."
He leaned in slightly, his voice lower but clearer, like a fine needle attempting to prick through Jon's doubts.
"Lord Griffin, haven't we been drifting all this way waiting for just such an opportunity? A chance to prove we are worth the investment and that we dare to take risks for it."
"Safety means stagnation. And some risks must be taken."
Jon watched him, his gaze complicated.
The youth before him was logical, insightful, and even knew how to turn a crisis into leverage.
This prudence and boldness beyond his years often left him in a daze, as if he were truly seeing the shadow of Prince Rhaegar from years ago.
Yet, in a corner of his heart, a tiny sliver of doubt, like a reef beneath deep water, would always quietly surface at his most gratified moments, bringing a cold touch.
He quickly suppressed that discomfort.
No, this was the son of Rhaegar.
He had personally witnessed him grow from an infant, watched him learn etiquette, watched him train hard in martial arts—a leader nearly perfect under their painstaking cultivation... it couldn't be fake.
Had he not spent twenty years in exile, living under an assumed name and exhausting his efforts, just to place him in his rightful position?
"You are right," Jon finally let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing an imperceptible fraction.
"Opportunity is indeed often wrapped in risk. It was I... being too cautious." He couldn't give up this crucial step just because of some absurd rumors.
Lys. They must go.
A look of respect mixed with determination appeared on Xiao Griffin's face, perfectly measured.
"It is your years of teaching that have taught me how to weigh things. So, shall we sail directly to Lys as planned?"
"Directly to Lys," Jon nodded in confirmation.
But he immediately added, his tone returning to its habitual scrutiny: "However, before entering Lys's waters, especially a port where the situation is unknown, we must first establish contact with our people there."
"Find out the truth of the situation before deciding how to dock and in what capacity to appear."
This time, Xiao Griffin did not immediately voice an objection.
He mused for a moment and then slowly nodded: "Your consideration is thorough."
"Charging in blindly could indeed put us in danger, or even catch potential allies off guard."
"We need a reliable pair of eyes to tell us in advance exactly what has happened in Lys."
A reliable pair of eyes... In Lys, the only person they could call a contact and who might have access to information from within the core of power seemed to be that person.
"Sa Melis," Jon said the name, his tone flat, but a flicker of imperceptible calculation crossed his eyes.
That socially adept socialite was also one of the most active intermediaries and promoters of this investment.
She was shrewd and knew how to judge the situation, which was exactly why some truth might be unearthed from her while things were still unclear.
"It can only be her," Xiao Griffin agreed, walking to the porthole and looking out at the shimmering sea.
"We need to know if Lys is still well, if Governor Dorian's attitude remains the same, and... those bizarre rumors must have a somewhat reliable source."
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