Chapter 502: The Dragon Arrives in Braavos

The white dragon pierced through the sea mist, and two bright points of light glimmered on the horizon.

As Samwell drew closer, he realized those were not stars—but eyes.

The eyes of the Titan of Braavos.

Seeing them meant they had arrived.

The mist retreated, revealing a line of rocky ridges rising abruptly from the sea. The steep slopes were draped in grayish-green trees, and in the gap between the sea cliffs stood the Titan of Braavos.

The Titan was constructed from countless slabs of black granite, its legs planted firmly on either side of the straits. Its broad shoulders loomed over the jagged mountain peaks, and its flowing hair was made of green-dyed rope. Its eyes—two cavernous holes—glowed with the light of burning fires.

One of its hands rested on the ridge to the left, clutching a massive boulder with bronze fingers, while the other reached skyward, gripping the hilt of a broken sword.

The Titan of Braavos was not only one of the Nine Wonders of the Known World, alongside the Wall and the Hightower, but also Braavos's first line of defense.

Any ship entering Braavos must pass beneath the Titan's legs, where they would face the array of arrow slits lining its inner thighs.

But what if the intruder came from the sky…?

Woo-woo-woo!

The shrill blast of a horn echoed like the Titan's roar, drowning out the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs and reverberating through the city.

Hundreds of seabirds erupted into the sky, their wings flapping furiously as they fled from the dragon.

"Dragon!"

"A dragon is coming!"

The port fell into chaos. Oars thrashed the waters as boats scrambled for safety, and people on the docks ran in every direction.

Braavos, often called the "bastard daughter of Valyria," was founded by slaves fleeing the Valyrian Freehold. To them, dragons symbolized tyranny and terror.

Even though Valyria had been destroyed in the Doom four centuries earlier, the deep-rooted fear of dragons lingered in their blood.

And now, seeing a massive white dragon descend upon their city threw the population into a state of panic.

Roar!

The dragon's deafening cry tore through the clouds, shaking the city awake.

The Pine Ridge and the Titan were left behind as Samwell, mounted on the white dragon Cleopatra, flew over a vast lagoon. In its center, a large rocky outcrop jutted from the water, resembling a spiked fist. The summit bristled with trebuchets and scorpions, manned by soldiers who had rushed to their stations at the alarm.

But when the soldiers saw the massive creature in the sky, they froze in terror.

Since capturing King's Landing, Samwell had fed Cleopatra on dragonbone broth made from the immense skulls hidden in the Red Keep's depths.

Now, the white dragon's body was over 100 meters long, with a wingspan exceeding 300 meters. Though it could not yet match the size of Balerion the Black Dread in his prime, it was not far behind.

A creature of this magnitude rendered ordinary human weapons ineffective. When fighting the Northern alliance led by the Lannisters, Samwell had needed to be cautious of giant crossbows. But now, even the strongest scorpions were no more than toothpicks to Cleopatra.

It was with this confidence that Samwell dared to ride Cleopatra directly into Braavos.

With his own immense power and the white dragon's dominance, no mortal army could oppose him.

If Braavos was indeed behind the theft of the dragon egg, Samwell was prepared to show them the wrath of a true dragon.

---

The wind howled past his ears as the sprawling city came into view.

Temples, towers, and palaces began to light up with fire, as if welcoming their uninvited guest.

Braavos was not a single island but a city of countless small isles connected by stone bridges.

Gray stone houses clustered together, their steep tiled roofs like pointed hats, leaning on each other for support. Here, there were no thatched or wooden buildings—everything was stone.

Braavos was a stone city in a sea of green.

The white dragon descended toward the Sea Lord's Palace, its wings whipping up violent gusts that spread fear and awe through the streets below.

Boom!

Cleopatra landed in the plaza before the Sea Lord's Palace, shaking the city like an earthquake.

The fully armed soldiers guarding the palace dared not approach, shrinking into the shadows and praying the dragon wouldn't notice them.

Samwell leaped down from the dragon's back, calmly straightening his wind-tossed garments.

"Inform Ferrego Antaryon that Caesar is here to pay a visit," he said.

The guards, who had been braced for an attack, hesitated at the polite tone. They quickly regained their senses and sent someone to notify the Sea Lord.

Moments later, a familiar face emerged from the palace.

"Caesar, welcome to Braavos."

"Lord Nahoh," Samwell greeted the Iron Bank emissary with a warm smile. "It's been a while. I thought you represented the Iron Bank. Have you switched allegiances to the Sea Lord?"

Nahoh smiled diplomatically.

"Your Majesty jests. I still serve the Iron Bank, but also assist the Sea Lord. Ferrego has been gravely ill and regrets being unable to greet you personally."

Samwell scrutinized Nahoh for a moment before asking pointedly,

"Is Ferrego able to see me at all?"

Back when Tywin Lannister used the gold mines of Casterly Rock to buy the Iron Bank's favor, those same people had severed ties with Samwell and even sent a fleet to participate in the Battle of King's Landing. Samwell certainly hadn't forgotten.

Moreover, Samwell clearly remembered that the current Sealord, Ferrego Antaryon, had opposed Braavos's involvement in the Westerosi conflict. In fact, he had stood against the Iron Bank's faction.

The Iron Bank had subsequently propped up Toromo Fregar as their puppet, rallying Braavosi nobles to overthrow the reigning Sealord. Though that plot had naturally collapsed after the Braavosi fleet was annihilated in the Blackwater Bay, Samwell didn't believe the Iron Bank had truly given up on its ambitions or decided to turn over a new leaf.

So when Samwell saw Nahoh emerging from the Sea Lord's Palace, he initially suspected that the current Sealord had been placed under house arrest by the Iron Bank.

"Can I meet with him?" Samwell asked, his tone calm but probing.

"Of course," Nahoh replied. "As Braavos's most treasured guest, you may meet anyone you wish. We will make all necessary arrangements."

Samwell raised an eyebrow at this response. He hadn't expected such cooperation, but he remained skeptical.

"Then let's arrange it. I have questions I want to ask the Sealord in person."

Nahoh nodded and gestured politely.

"This way, Your Majesty."

---

Samwell followed Nahoh through the palace's winding corridors, past soldiers clad in polished bronze armor.

Though outwardly imposing, the guards' unease was evident in their darting eyes and stiff postures. It was clear they were unaccustomed to actual combat, a fact that didn't surprise Samwell.

Braavos, long unchallenged, had grown soft. The mountainous region of Norvos shielded it from landward threats, while its powerful navy—at least before the Blackwater Bay disaster—deterred attacks from the sea.

The luxury of peace had turned its warriors into ornamental figures, and Samwell doubted these soldiers could stand against a genuine threat.

After navigating the lavish hallways, Nahoh opened the door to a dimly lit chamber filled with the pungent scent of herbs.

Inside, an emaciated old man lay on a grand bed near the hearth. His skin sagged over his bones, his white hair was sparse, and his hollow cheeks betrayed the ravages of illness.

"Sealord," Nahoh addressed him gently, "Caesar of King's Landing has come to see you."

The Sealord's cloudy, unfocused eyes roamed aimlessly. His toothless mouth moved, forming slurred and incoherent words:

"Crabs… biting… day and night… Bruce…"

"Your son Bruce has gone to King's Landing," Nahoh reminded him.

The Sealord seemed not to hear and continued mumbling:

"The claws… sharp… they want my life… Bruce… give me wine… let me sleep…"

A servant stepped forward, offering the old man a drink.

After drinking, the Sealord's expression eased slightly, though his murmurs grew softer and more disjointed:

"Bruce… crabs… gone…"

Nahoh turned to Samwell, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture.

"As you can see, Your Majesty, the Sealord is in no condition to answer questions. If there is anything you wish to discuss, you may speak with me instead. I assure you, on the honor of the Iron Bank, that we had no involvement in the theft of your dragon egg."

Now Samwell finally understood why the Iron Bank did not put the Sea lord under house arrest, but agreed to let him meet him.

This old man can't make any decisions except for hold the title of Sea Lord.

He originally thought that the Antaryon family was simply unable to contend with the hostile forces, but now, Samwell felt that the Sea Lord's control over Braavos was probably almost zero.

With this in mind, Bruce's behavior of going to King's Landing to request a marriage alliance seemed quite suspicious.

As for the solemn assurance just made by the Iron Bank messenger, Samwell naturally did not believe a word of it.

Samwell glanced at the Sealord's frail form, then turned his attention to Nahoh.

"Can I have a moment alone with him?"

Nahoh hesitated. It seemed absurd to leave Samwell with someone incapable of coherent thought, but he eventually relented.

"Very well. I will be just outside."

As soon as Nahoh exited, Samwell's focus shifted—not to the Sealord, but to the servant tending to him.

The man was a middle-aged figure, overweight, with a face obscured by a thick beard.

"What is your name?" Samwell asked.

"Logan, Your Majesty," the servant replied in a hoarse voice.

"Is that so?" Samwell's tone sharpened. "I feel like you go by another name."

The servant stiffened. "What name might that be?"

"Eight-Legged Spider. Varys."

The room fell silent for a moment, and then a honeyed, familiar voice broke the tension:

"Your Majesty, nothing escapes your sharp eyes."

Samwell smiled coldly.

"Varys, what are you doing here?"

Varys stroked his glued-on beard, his tone mockingly humble.

"Your Majesty, you might say I've retired. A man has to find some corner of the world to live out his final days, and Braavos seemed as good a place as any."

"And the Sea Lord?"

Varys sighed theatrically.

"A dear old friend. I came to visit him in his final moments. His current state pains me deeply, as you can see."

Samwell wasn't buying it.

"So, you're here to meddle, then?"

"Not at all, Your Majesty," Varys protested. "I've long since relinquished my schemes. The world no longer needs spiders like me. Your Majesty, if you hadn't come, I would have slipped away quietly in a few days."

Samwell smiled noncommittally and said:

"Varys, you know what? I've always been very curious about one thing."

"Your Majesty, please speak."

Samwell stared at Varys for a long moment, then leaned closer.

"Tell me, Varys, how do you think Bruce Antaryon—or whoever it was—managed to steal the dragon egg?"

Varys spread his hands innocently.

"My little birds are gone, Your Majesty. I'm afraid I can't help you. As for Bruce… well, he did vanish rather cleverly. I still think it was the work of the Faceless Men?"

Samwell shook his head.

"No. The Faceless Men's disguises rely on magic. I'd see through them instantly. But you… you're more subtle."

"Your Majesty I assure yo-"

"But what if you are blind?" said Samwell.

"Blind? Your Majesty, I... don't quite understand what you mean."

Samwell leaned forward slightly and said in an oppressive tone:

"I mean, if those little birds you left me, those eyes all over King's Landing, were blind, or pretended to be blind, wouldn't Bruce Antalyon be able to sneak away with the dragon eggs?"

(End of Chapter)