The port of Volantis

The fleet slowly entered the port of Volantis. Aegon stood at the prow, his silver hair stirring in the salty sea breeze.

As the Valyrian Freehold's earliest colony, the city known as the "eldest daughter of Valyria" enjoyed a superb natural deepwater harbor.

The port bustled with activity, its masts a forest and its cargo piled into mountains.

The air mingled the smells of brine, spices, and sweat. Among the crowds on the docks, a few old sailors and traders exchanged meaningful glances.

They had departed with dozens of ships and at least a thousand men. Now only a little over a hundred survivors had returned-a sight that was bound to set tongues wagging.

Aegon stepped onto the familiar stone quay, rank with fish and urine.

He had changed out of his conspicuous Valyrian steel armor and into a reasonably clean suit of black leather armor stripped from an Ironborn corpse. His silver hair was hastily tied back with a leather cord.

"Henry," Aegon called in a low voice.

"Here, Your Highness!" Henry hurried forward. His plump face still showed the fatigue of the voyage, but his eyes were bright.

He, too, had changed into relatively clean clothes, and the warhammer they had recovered rested on his shoulder again.

Aegon surveyed the moored ships, his gaze lingering a moment longer on the Silence and the two other vessels carrying their most important supplies. "Stay here with half the men. Guard our ships and everything aboard them. No strangers are to come near. Take turns on watch, and don't let your guard down."

"Understood!" Henry nodded firmly. "With me here, not even a rat will get aboard!"

Aegon turned to the other mercenaries filing off the ships.

These men had narrowly escaped death. Now that they stood on solid ground, their eyes held both relief at having survived and a longing for the life ashore they had missed for so long.

"The rest of you may go ashore," Aegon said, raising his voice. "Take a hot bath at a dockside inn, enjoy some fresh food for a change, and drink ale that doesn't taste of mold. You've earned it."

A subdued cheer rose from the crowd.

"But," Aegon's tone abruptly chilled, his violet eyes sweeping sharply across every face, "remember who we are."

"Until we reach our destination, we're nothing more than an ordinary mercenary company returning from the Disputed Lands after suffering heavy losses. Watch your tongues. Don't talk about anything you shouldn't."

Aegon paused, letting the warning sink in. "Go ashore in shifts, no more than twenty at a time."

"Stay alert. Don't start trouble, but don't back down from it either. You must return before sunset to relieve the men on guard. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Your Highness!" the mercenaries answered in unison. Their journey to Valyria had quietly cemented Aegon's authority.

"Carl." Aegon looked toward the wiry mercenary.

Carl immediately stepped forward. "Your Highness."

"Bring a few sharp men with you. We're going to turn those 'stones' into money we can spend."

Carl understood at once and quickly picked out the three most levelheaded-looking mercenaries.

After giving Henry a few more instructions, Aegon led Carl and the others into the surging crowds on the docks.

The harbor district of Volantis was vast and chaotic.

Merchants in sumptuous silk robes hurried past in palanquins borne by slaves.

Half-naked dockworkers sweated beneath the blazing sun, while prostitutes solicited customers in the shadows.

Beggars held out maimed hands.

Hawkers' cries in every accent, haggling, and angry shouts blended into a din that never ceased.

Aegon ignored it all and led Carl and the others straight into the depths of the harbor district.

Here, the buildings were low and dilapidated, the streets narrow and muddy. The air was fouler still, thick with the smell of cheap liquor and violence.

Their destination was a low stone house that looked entirely ordinary, with only a single ironbound wooden door, firmly shut.

But anyone familiar with the area knew that behind this door lay a major hub of the harbor district's underworld: Scorpion-Tail Kulker's den.

Carl knocked on the wooden door in a particular rhythm.

After a brief silence, the door opened.

Aegon took only Carl and one other mercenary inside, leaving the remaining two to keep watch outside.

Beyond the door, stairs led down into a dim basement.

Torches flickered, and incense hung thick in the air.

At the far end of the room, a short, stocky, bald man sat behind a broad wooden desk. His most striking feature was the black scorpion tattooed on his scalp, its hooked tail raised high.

Scorpion-Tail Kulker lifted his eyes to study Aegon. "A new face?"

"I'm here to do business," Aegon answered calmly. "Gems for hard currency."

The transaction was straightforward.

Aegon's forceful manner brooked no argument. Khurk tried to drive down the price and probe the gems' origins, but ultimately agreed to the deal.

A pouch of fine-quality gems brought them a large bag of gold coins.

"A pleasure doing business, silver-haired lad." Khurk's lips twitched. "Hope you bring more 'stones' next time."

Aegon gave a slight nod, hung the money bag at his waist, and turned to leave.

Just then-

Bang!

The door burst open, and a mercenary stumbled in, his face deathly pale. "Boss! Trouble! They've grabbed one of our men!"

Aegon stopped and turned toward him, his brow furrowing.

"What happened? Take your time." Carl caught the mercenary and steadied him as she asked in a low voice.

"It-it was the Iron Jaw Gang!" Panting heavily, the mercenary spoke in a rush. "A few of us... we split up outside the Sea Snake Tavern. I went to buy tobacco, and when I came back, I saw some Iron Jaw Gang thugs cornering Luke at the entrance to Loach Lane!"

"I heard them shouting that Luke owed their boss, Bali, a huge debt. If he couldn't pay, they'd take his sister instead!"

"Luke went mad with rage and rushed up to argue with them, but... but there were too many. They beat him bloody, and they were dragging him back to their hideout! As soon as I saw what was happening, I ran here to tell you!"

"The Iron Jaw Gang?" Carl's expression darkened, and she looked at Aegon. "They're the local thugs in the harbor district. Their leader, Bonecrusher Bali, has seventy or eighty cutthroats under him. They prey on visiting sailors and mercenaries.

"I hear his sister is the mistress of some consul from the Elephant Party. He's always throwing his weight around."

A cold gleam flashed in Aegon's eyes.

Trouble always arrived sooner than planned.

He did not hesitate.

"Let's go!"

With that low shout, he led the way out of the basement. Khurk's voice drifted after him. "The Iron Jaw Gang isn't to be trifled with, silver-haired lad. Bali's a madman..."

Aegon ignored him.