Sea God's Baptism

The battered Harvest struggled into Pentos.

Its sails were more tattered than the burlap on slaves' backs, its figurehead had been severed at the waist, and its hull was a bloody mess, like a corpse beaten to death with clubs.

Half the bustling harbor was drawn to it.

A very few sharp-eyed people recognized it. "That's Magister Illyrio's Harvest!"

"I remember now. Its last voyage was to King's Landing in the Sunset Kingdom. Could there have been another great storm along that route?!"

The moment those words were spoken, worried discussions broke out among the crowd. Shipowners who had recently sailed that route, as well as those with family and friends at sea, were especially frantic, as if roasting over a fire.

But the reactions onshore did nothing to affect the actions of the living aboard the Harvest.

The survivors packed together at the gangway as though some man-eating beast were chasing them from behind, completely forgetting that they were already safe.

Whatever the case, they all eventually touched solid ground.

Some fell to their knees and wept the moment they came ashore. Some excitedly kissed and caressed the earth beneath them. A few lucky ones spotted their family and friends right there at the dock and immediately embraced them, laughing and crying at once.

The onlookers felt sorry for them, but they had long grown accustomed to such scenes.

A city that lived on maritime trade naturally had to endure the sea's wrath and misfortunes. Such were the joys and sorrows passed down through generations of Pentoshi.

Indeed, of the Harvest's hundred-odd crewmen, only a little over half had returned, while more than half the cargo had been lost. But what could they do?

Life had to go on.

The crowd gradually dispersed and returned to their own business. The Harvest's crewmen also calmed down and left the docks, leaving behind only the bewildered Envoy of the Iron Throne and Elin.

The Envoy stood there blankly for a moment. Looking at the Crown Prince's attendant beside him, he could not help feeling somewhat comforted.

Though he had not performed particularly well in the storm, Elin made him seem much braver and more steadfast by comparison.

"Elin, are you all right?"

The Envoy offered a polite word of concern.

Elin seemed not to hear him, staring blankly into space. Every so often, he would suddenly shudder at utterly unexpected moments, startling everyone nearby.

The Envoy stopped bothering with the coward. After pondering briefly, he decided to finish his task as soon as possible.

The sooner it was done, the sooner he could go home. He would never come to this damned place again!

He dragged the shrinking Elin out of the docks at a brisk pace.

The two passed between Pentos's distinctive square brick towers and tile-roofed houses, brushing shoulders with all kinds of people.

Pentoshi citizens with flamboyant, brightly colored forked beards, mercenaries openly carrying blades in leather armor, humble Free Folk who were slaves in all but name, low-profile figures, wealthy merchants and noble houses surrounded by attendants...

Perhaps the lively sights helped, for Elin gradually calmed down, though he still kept himself hunched and silent.

After passing street performances and markets trading spices, gemstones, and wine, a massive red temple appeared before them.

Magister Illyrio's estate stood beside the temple.

They had reached their destination.

The Envoy straightened his attire and strode toward the estate gates.

Elin furtively glanced up, then lowered his gaze to the ground and followed. Gods bless us. May everything go smoothly.

The Magister warmly received the honored guests from King's Landing in his hall.

After hearing the purpose of the Iron Throne Envoy's visit, he readily declared that he would be delighted to offer a gift to the esteemed Prince Joffrey.

Three beautiful Dragon Eggs. In exchange, Littlefinger was actually willing to forgo collecting the ten thousand Golden Dragons Illyrio still owed the Iron Throne from their trade dealings.

Though they were not gleaming coins laid out before him, this was ten thousand Golden Dragons!

Magister Illyrio seemed to have already caught the sweet fragrance of gold.

Since Varys had sent no message, this was evidently an ordinary business deal. Why refuse when there was money to be made?

The Dragon Eggs were not worth ten thousand Golden Dragons.

Illyrio laughed heartily and promised to send the Envoy back to King's Landing the next day to report his success.

The Envoy bowed in thanks. When he raised his head again, two slender maidservants dressed in revealing clothes were standing before him.

Understanding the meaning, he bade the Magister farewell and went off to experience the charms of Pentos.

Elin simply stood there in a daze.

Magister Illyrio narrowed his eyes. "Honored representative of the Crown Prince, is there anything else you wish to add?"

Elin did not respond.

Illyrio showed not the slightest displeasure.

"If you wish, I can have a servant take you to rest first. How about returning to King's Landing with the ship tomorrow?"

"The ship... the ship..." As if some switch had been triggered, Elin instantly became agitated.

"No! I don't want a ship!"

"The Storm God is enraged! The storm!!"

He shouted madly, head tilted back as he spun in circles without stopping. His steps staggered like those of a drunkard walking across a pitching deck.

The servants tried their best to avoid him, but one was still knocked down by the frantic Elin.

Elin, too, instantly lost all strength and collapsed to the floor, muttering dully.

"No... no... no ship..."

A look of understanding appeared on Illyrio's face.

The power of a storm was not something mortals dared face directly. Forget those who had never gone to sea—even seasoned sailors could suffer mental collapse after a shipwreck.

The Pentoshi called this the Sea God's Baptism.

Those who endured the baptism emerged stronger and braver, seeing it as a blessing. Those who failed to endure it naturally viewed it as a terrifying curse.

Illyrio sighed and gestured for the servants to take Elin away. This so-called representative of the Crown Prince was useless now.

From his past experience, someone in this state would not dare cross the Narrow Sea again for at least two or three years. By then, would the esteemed Prince Joffrey even remember this attendant?

This fellow unfortunate enough to suffer the sea's curse could only struggle to survive on this land.

At dawn the next day, Elin was politely escorted out of the magnificent estate.

The downcast attendant wandered through Pentos, watching with his own eyes as the Iron Throne Envoy and the Dragon Eggs boarded a ship bound for King's Landing.

Until the light reflecting from the sea turned a warm orange-red, not a single person paid him any attention.

Elin felt nothing but relief.

After the storm spared the dying Harvest, he had quickly become an outcast and a joke aboard the ship.

Who would think highly of a coward who hid in his room all day and screamed at even the ripples on the surface of a cup of wine?

It seemed this disguise had successfully helped him take the first step of his plan.

As for how to complete his task afterward...

He could not help looking toward the Magister's estate beyond his line of sight.

The Crown Prince had told him many things.

Magister Illyrio, the Dothraki Horse King Khal Drogo, Varys's Little Birds, and the rest were all dangerous enemies.

Where was Jorah Mormont?

Should I remain in Pentos and wait for an opportunity? Go to another city-state?

Perhaps I could spend some money to hire mercenaries?

As he pondered, he noticed several ill-intentioned gazes around him and instinctively touched the purse tied at his waist.

In his current situation, the two hundred Golden Dragons on him were his only support on the road to survival.

He needed to buy a weapon for protection as soon as possible.

The nights of Pentos, a dangerous journey, my ballad...