Chapter 737: The Curse of Valyria

"What?"

Asha Greyjoy's face changed dramatically upon hearing the soldier's report.

Though she had clashed with her Uncle Victarion over ideological differences, he remained her last living kin. How could she remain indifferent upon hearing such news?

"Quick!"

"Back to the ship, now!"

Asha could no longer afford to continue her search for gold mines. She mounted her warhorse, leading her entourage in a mad dash toward the beach where their fleet was anchored.

Victarion's condition was dire. His face was ashen, and he was lost in an unconscious stupor, frothing at the mouth.

Truth be told, Victarion had sensed something was amiss with his health quite some time ago, but he had dismissed it.

As the former captain of the Iron Fleet's indomitable flagship and the Greyjoy family's most formidable warrior, Victarion had suffered countless injuries, many far worse than this. He had always soldiered on.

But this morning, he felt an ominous premonition. His body felt feverish, as if his blood were boiling, especially around his wounds. It felt as though a hot iron was pressed against his arm.

Victarion thought perhaps the bandage was improperly applied, or the herbal poultice was faulty. He tore off the bandage, and then he fainted, collapsing onto the deck.

Fortunately, the soldiers around him noticed and promptly carried him to a bed in the cabin, summoning the accompanying physician for treatment.

Before Asha arrived, the army's physician had already performed bloodletting on Victarion. In an era lacking advanced medical technology, people generally resorted to such rudimentary methods—bloodletting, cauterization, excising necrotic flesh, and administering anesthetics or antibacterial herbs.

Thump, thump, thump—

Just then, hurried footsteps resounded outside the cabin. The door burst open, and Asha rushed in.

She saw her uncle lying on the sickbed, pale but conscious. On the other side, the army physician was placing blood-engorged leeches back into a jar with a pair of forceps.

"My lord."

The physician hastily rose to bow, but Asha paid him no mind. Her eyes were fixed intently on her uncle. Seeing that he was unharmed, she finally exhaled a sigh of relief and turned to ask, "What happened?"

In Westerosi custom, a highborn, unmarried woman like Asha should be addressed as 'Lady,' and older or married women as 'Mistress,' not 'My Lord' or 'General.' However, Asha disliked such gender-specific titles and insisted everyone adjust their language.

"Ser's wounds are healing well, showing no signs of infection. Perhaps it's just a case of not acclimating well to foreign lands," said the physician, hesitating slightly. He hailed from King's Landing.

Initially, he suspected Victarion's wounds were infected. However, upon closer examination, he found no abnormalities. Given Victarion's robust constitution, his wounds were healing remarkably well.

So, the physician resorted to bloodletting, a common practice he learned while treating the poor in King's Landing. His mentor had once told him, "When in doubt, let blood."

Surprisingly, after the physician used his leeches to draw some blood, Victarion regained consciousness. It was unclear whether this was a stroke of luck or mere coincidence.

"I'm no Ser, old man," Victarion suddenly spoke, his voice a bit muffled. He then sat up on the bed.

He examined his once-injured arm; the wound had nearly healed. He clenched his fist, feeling the muscles in his arm tense and a slight tearing pain at the site of the wound. It was as if nothing had happened.

He couldn't fathom why he had fainted, but the feverish heat that had plagued him was now gone, as if it had all been a dream. Yet, he knew it was no dream.

And what was that itching sensation on his back?

"Uncle," Asha, noticing that Victarion had sat up immediately upon waking, furrowed her brows.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Fine," Victarion answered succinctly, nodding. At that moment, his hand seemed to touch something, and he paused.

His long black hair, tinged with streaks of gray, framed his weather-beaten face. For a rare moment, Victarion's expression shifted ever so slightly, and even his breathing seemed to hitch, as if he had realized something.

"What's wrong?" Asha, keenly noticing her uncle's odd behavior, quickly inquired.

"Asha, have everyone else leave," Victarion's face tightened, his brows knitted into a knot. After a long pause, he finally spoke, "I need to speak with you privately."

Upon hearing his words, everyone in the room exchanged glances before looking at Asha. Receiving her nod of approval, all but she and Victarion exited, leaving the uncle and niece alone in the cabin.

"What happened, Uncle?" The raven-haired woman couldn't wait to ask.

Victarion didn't rush to answer. Instead, he turned away and removed his shirt, revealing his muscular back.

At first, Asha couldn't comprehend what her uncle was doing. However, as soon as she saw what was on Victarion's back, her face changed dramatically.

"What is this?" Asha Greyjoy was visibly shocked, her face etched with disbelief.

For there, on Victarion's back, was a small patch of scales, identical to those she had seen on the creature that had attacked her.

"Why is this happening?"

"Could it be..." Asha's face paled even more as she hurriedly spoke. She recalled that Victarion had been bitten by the creature. Could he have been infected then?

She had never imagined that such a creature could be the result of some viral mutation. Was this a variant of Greyscale?

But Asha immediately dismissed that thought. She had been in close contact with the creature, and it was fundamentally different from the Stone Men.

It was as if... as if it were some sort of curse.