The Dragonpit had turned into a sea of joy and excitement. People were delighted to see the friendship between two outstanding heirs from both sides of the Narrow Sea, delighted to see the sword dance, and delighted to see the scions of the Sealord and Dragonlord dancing together.
Though many believed Braavosi were often hypocritical and untrustworthy, honest only when the Iron Bank came to collect debts.
Rhaegar and Fergo returned to the viewing platform together, then to their respective seats, earning applause like two triumphant generals.
Fergo accepted his defeat, his expression returning to normal. All his wagers, including that beautiful purple ship, were lost to Rhaegar and the noble merchants who bet on Rhaegar's victory.
Rhaegar wanted to advise Fergo to watch his health, thinking, I am different from you; I possess the blood of fire. But on second thought, Fergo was so proud that saying anything might offend him deeply.
"Young Master, are you alright?" Fergo's bodyguard asked softly with concern.
"I'm fine." Fergo watched Rhaegar's retreating back, countless thoughts flashing through his mind.
The first day of the tournament had been magnificent. Everyone agreed that no subsequent joust could surpass it. Neither the three laps of the magic dragons nor the sword duel between the two distinguished heirs could be matched.
Night fell, and Rhaegar returned to the Dragonpit camp from the lively feast. In his tent, Rhaegar examined the purple ship and the eight golden cups; the spoils of war were intoxicating.
"Your Highness, there are people waiting outside the Dragonpit. By their accent, they are from the Free Cities. They said if you see this, you will agree to see them," Sessa said.
Sessa produced a drawing, roughly depicting a tiger and an elephant tearing at each other. Two elephants were teaming up to attack a tiger; the tiger struggled, clearly at a disadvantage.
"The Volantene is playing riddles with me," Rhaegar thought. Since the Century of Blood, the Tiger Party of Volantis has been suppressed by the Elephant Party.
The three dragons were sleeping in the tent; soon, one might grow as large as the tent itself.
Rhaegar allowed the man into the Dragonpit camp, and indeed, it was Malaho Maegyr, a merchant from Volantis, a member of the Tiger Party, and a strong contender for the position of Triarch.
Malaho wore a rough brown robe, his shoes tattered and covered in mud. With a hood covering his face, he looked like the lowest crewman from Flea Bottom. No one would guess this man was the dashing, well-dressed, yet arrogant Volantene noble Malaho.
"Does a future Triarch need to visit me in disguise? I am deeply honored by your presence in my humble abode. Once you are elected Triarch, you won't be able to step foot on this land for a whole year." Rhaegar jokingly invited Malaho into his tent.
Malaho had not yet been elected magistrate (Triarch), but given his wealth, lineage, and connections, everyone believed he would surely be elected as the "Tiger Party" Triarch of Volantis.
"Please forgive me, Your Highness. My trip requires caution, and I hope I haven't offended you and your dragons," Malaho apologized. "Your succession to the Iron Throne is undisputed, whereas I face many challenges in the election for Triarch. Your success depends on bloodline and talent, while mine requires money and votes. You inherit the throne; we are elected." Malaho made a gesture, implying the difference in their situations.
"My Lord, you are truly bold!" Rhaegar admired, noting Malaho's willingness to take risks, big or small. A private meeting could easily invite criticism from election rivals.
"I enjoy challenges, Your Highness. To dare run as a Tiger during the rule of the Elephant Party is an adventure in itself. If I followed the rules, I couldn't run for magistrate this early. I would have to wait until I had fifty years of seniority within the Elephant Party to have a chance, as seniority always comes first." Malaho's eyes flashed with a cunning light.
Rhaegar signaled Malaho to sit, eager to hear what insights this future magistrate had.
"Your Highness, you know our city of Volantis is vast, possessing numerous armies, and we are one of the descendants of Valyria. The lineage of all our Triarchs can be traced back to the era of Old Valyria, while you, Your Highness, come from the noble Dragonlord family of Valyria. Our bloodlines are connected. The relationship between you and me should be closer than with other Free Cities; we bear no malice toward the Dragonlord family; on the contrary, we are very friendly," Malaho said.
"You used this rhetoric to persuade my ancestor Aegon the Conqueror, but he didn't agree. Instead, he attacked you, Lord Malaho. If you wish to persuade me, I'm afraid I can't help. If it's a matter of state, you can go to my grandfather, King Jaehaerys II; if it's a family matter, you can go to my parents..." Rhaegar said coldly.
"Your Highness, please do not say that; the past is but changing winds and clouds. Your ancestor was very wise. The seats of Volantis's magistrates have changed many times, but your family's Iron Chair remains constant, just like your royal house. What you gain today is my personal friendship—Malaho's friendship—not the friendship of the city-state of Volantis. Your Highness should distinguish carefully between the two." Malaho looked around, seeing the black scale armor, the plain steel ring, the golden cups, and the purple ship Rhaegar had won today.
"Moreover, you and I occasionally share potential enemies. The owner of that purple ship does not wish to offend you or me. More than a hundred years ago, your teenage admiral Alyn Oakenfist destroyed part of the Braavosi fleet, depleting the royal treasury to pay for atonement, eventually having to borrow from the Iron Bank." Malaho pointed to the purple ship, his tone seductive. "Braavosi are extremely pragmatic; they have no true friendship. They rely only on their powerful fleet, the Iron Bank's wealth, and the Faceless Men assassins for extortion and capital-less transactions."
"Thank you for your kindness, Lord Malaho. Unfortunately, these three dragons are still young, far from the terrifying combat power of my ancestors. I can't help you much," Rhaegar said, pouring Malaho a cup of water.
Rhaegar needed to wait for the cunning Malaho to offer something of value in exchange. He was a Prince and a Dragonlord; his friendship was not cheap.
"The Prince shouldn't be so modest. You are a descendant of Dragonlords and now possess the last three giant dragons. These dragons will grow year by year. However, since that war three hundred years ago (Century of Blood?), Volantis has been in decline." Malaho sighed, his eyes gleaming with calculation. If Rhaegar softened his attitude, cooperation was possible. "Many have prejudices against our Tiger Party, thinking we are just old nobles and warmongers, but there are also enlightened and kind people like me in the Tiger Party."
Rhaegar agreed. Back then, the Tiger Party viewed Volantis as the heir to Valyria and expanded rapidly. This angered everyone; almost all Free Cities, including Braavos and Lys, and even Aegon the Conqueror, opposed Volantis. The defeat in war led to the decline of Tiger rule, a decline that continued to this day. Although Volantis appeared prosperous on the surface, it was actually decaying year by year.
"We can share information; I will pass some information to the Prince, and I hope the Prince will do the same," Malaho said.
Rhaegar pondered the meaning of cooperation. This was merely a secret alliance between him and the minority faction leader Malaho. Malaho, an ambitious and energetic tiger.
"May our friendship be unbreakable, limited only to you and me, not representing Westeros and Volantis." Rhaegar raised his cup. Even a false friendship is still a friendship; some things couldn't be brought to the table. He would cooperate with Malaho, but for now, he wouldn't rashly step into Volantis.
"May our friendship be unbreakable." Malaho smiled and clinked cups as well.
"To show my goodwill, I offer you a warning, Prince. You possess the last three dragons, but your King's Landing bloodline is no longer the sole descendant of the Dragonlords. In the Free Cities, there exist many dragonseeds. They are numerous, and occasionally they become very violent; you need to guard against them," Malaho warned.
Rhaegar knew of this too. A Targaryen princess (Saera) had once gone to Essos to sell herself, leaving many bastards. Later, Aegon IV, "Aegon the Unworthy," also visited the Free Cities and presumably left descendants. Not to mention the fleeing Blackfyre family, who were powerful at the time; even without male heirs, female descendants were hard to track.
"The crazier they are, the more I need your support. Some claim to be true dragons, but their value is no more than a copper coin, just like Maelys Blackfyre." Rhaegar looked at Malaho calmly. Even if remnants of the Blackfyre family still lurked in the shadows, they were like bedbugs now, daring not to show themselves easily.
"Excellent! Excellent!" Malaho laughed; he liked making friends with smart people.
Power exists when you believe in it, not when you don't. Information was extremely important.