The battered Harvest struggled to reach Pentos.
Its sails were more tattered than a slave's rags, its figurehead was snapped in half, and its hull was bruised and bloody, like a corpse beaten to death with clubs.
Half of the bustling port was drawn to it.
A very few sharp-eyed people recognized it. "That's Magister Illyrio's Harvest!"
"I remember now, it went to King's Landing in the Sunset Kingdom last time. Could there be another great storm on that route?!"
At these words, everyone began to discuss anxiously. Ship owners who had taken that route in the past few days and those with relatives or friends at sea were even more anxious, as if being roasted over a fire.
But these reactions on shore did not affect the actions of the living people on the Harvest.
The survivors crowded together at the landing, as if being chased by man-eating beasts, completely forgetting that they were now safe.
In any case, they all eventually touched solid ground.
Some knelt on the ground and wept upon reaching shore, some excitedly kissed and stroked the ground beneath them, and a few lucky ones saw their relatives and friends right there, instantly hugging each other and crying and laughing.
Although the crowd felt regret, they were already used to such scenes.
Cities that relied on sea trade for their livelihood would naturally also bear the wrath and misfortune of the sea. This was the bittersweet inheritance of the people of Pentos for generations.
Indeed, of the more than one hundred crew members of the Harvest, only a little over half returned, and most of the cargo was lost. But what could be done?
Life had to go on.
The onlookers gradually dispersed, each busy with their own affairs. The crew of the Harvest also calmed down and left the dock, leaving only the bewildered Iron Throne envoy and Elin.
The envoy was stunned for a moment, looking at the Crown Prince's attendant next to him, and couldn't help but feel a little comforted.
Although his performance in the storm wasn't particularly good, he seemed much braver and more resolute in contrast to Elin.
"Elin, are you alright?"
The envoy asked out of politeness.
Elin seemed not to have heard, staring blankly, and would suddenly tremble at unexpected moments, startling people.
He stopped bothering with this coward, and after a moment of thought, decided to complete his task as soon as possible.
Finish early, go back early, and never come to this cursed place again!
He grabbed the shrinking Elin and hurried out of the dock.
The two walked between the distinctive square brick towers and tiled-roof houses of Pentos, brushing past all sorts of people.
Pentos citizens with exaggeratedly colorful forked beards, mercenaries openly carrying knives in leather armor, humble freedmen who were nominally not slaves, discreetly dressed individuals, and wealthy merchants and powerful families with entourages...
Perhaps due to these lively scenes, Elin gradually calmed down, though he still kept his body hunched.
After walking past various street performance venues and markets trading spices, gems, and wine, a huge red temple appeared before their eyes.
Magister Illyrio's courtyard was next to this temple.
They had reached their destination.
The envoy tidied his appearance and stepped towards the courtyard gate.
Elin glanced up furtively, then stared at the ground and followed. The Gods preserve us, may everything go smoothly.
The Magister warmly received the distinguished guest from King's Landing in the great hall.
After hearing the Iron Throne envoy's purpose, he immediately and readily expressed his willingness to present a gift to the esteemed Prince Joffrey.
Three beautiful Dragon Eggs. Littlefinger was even willing to waive his claim to the ten thousand Gold Dragons owed to him by the Iron Throne for trade.
Although it wasn't glittering gold coins right before his eyes, this was ten thousand Gold Dragons!
Magister Illyrio seemed to already smell the sweet fragrance of gold coins.
Since Varys had not sent any news, it meant this was a simple business transaction. Why refuse when there was money to be made?
Dragon Eggs were not worth ten thousand Gold Dragons.
Illyrio laughed heartily and promised to send the envoy back to King's Landing to report tomorrow.
The envoy bowed in thanks, and when he looked up again, two slender maidservants in revealing clothing stood before him.
He understood and bid farewell to the Magister, going to experience the flavors of Pentos.
Elin just stood there blankly.
Magister Illyrio narrowed his eyes. "Esteemed representative of the Crown Prince, do you have anything else to add?"
Elin did not react.
Illyrio showed no sign of 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?"
"Ship, ship..." Elin seemed to have a switch flipped, instantly becoming agitated.
"No! I don't want a ship!"
"The Storm God is angry! The storm!!"
He shouted wildly, tilting his head back and spinning continuously, staggering as if a drunkard walking on a swaying deck.
The servants tried their best to avoid him, but the frantic Elin still knocked one down.
Elin instantly lost all his strength, collapsing onto the ground and muttering blankly.
"No, no, not the ship..."
A look of understanding appeared on Illyrio's face.
The power of the storm was something no mortal dared to look directly at. Not to mention those who had never been out to sea, even seasoned sailors could suffer a mental breakdown after encountering a shipwreck.
The Pentoshi called this the "Sea God's baptism."
Those who survived the baptism would become stronger and braver, regarding it as a blessing; those who didn't would naturally see it as a terrifying curse.
Illyrio sighed and motioned for the servants to take Elin away. This so-called representative of the Crown Prince had now lost all usefulness.
Based on his past experience, someone who reacted like this wouldn't dare cross the Narrow Sea again for at least two or three years. By then, would the noble Prince Joffrey still remember this attendant?
This unfortunate fellow, cursed by the sea, could only struggle to survive in this land.
...
Early the next morning, Elin was escorted out of the magnificent courtyard.
The dejected attendant wandered around the city of Pentos, watching with his own eyes as the Iron Throne envoy and the Dragon Egg boarded the ship and sailed towards King's Landing.
Not a single person paid him any attention until the light from the sea turned a warm orange-red.
Elin felt only relief about this.
After the storm spared the dying "Harvest," he quickly became an outcast and a joke on the ship.
Who would respect a coward who hid in his room all day and screamed at the sight of ripples on the surface of wine?
It seemed now that this disguise had successfully helped him take the first step of his plan.
As for how to complete the task afterward...
He couldn't help but glance in the direction of the Magister's courtyard, outside his line of sight.
The Crown Prince had told him a lot.
Magister Illyrio, the Dothraki Horse King "Khal" Drogo, Varys's Little Birds, and others were all dangerous enemies.
Where was Jorah Mormont?
Should I stay in Pentos and wait for an opportunity? Go to other city-states?
Perhaps I could hire some sellswords?
As he pondered, he noticed several malicious gazes around him and subconsciously touched the money pouch tied to his waist.
In his current situation, the two hundred Gold Dragons on him were his only reliance for survival.
He needed to quickly buy a weapon for self-defense.
The nights of Pentos, the dangerous journey, my ballad
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