Braavos is a stone labyrinth of islands and canals, without grass or trees, where people speak Low Valyrian.
Quality water comes from elevated aqueducts, these large brick canals supported by bridge arches, which the Braavosi call the Sweet Water Canal.
The rich pipe water directly into their homes, while the poor use buckets to draw water from public fountains.
Braavos has few horses, just like Venice, and people are accustomed to touring palaces and temples along the canals in swift snake boats.
Night is the most dangerous time in Braavos.
Every night, assassins, looking very unconventional and dressed in brightly colored clothes, swagger through the streets.
The assassins carry slender longswords, eager to prove themselves.
Some will fight for any reason, while others need no reason at all.
Assassins are often irritable, belligerent, and quick to challenge.
At midnight, the bald, bearded Water Dancer, Moro, strode past the Moon Pool; he was tall and strong, and not a young man.
Viserys, wearing a hood, followed behind him; he had been in Braavos for a long time, but this was his first close-up view of an assassin's duel.
This was also Moro's task: to witness the true Water Dance of combat.
Viserys carried no blades on him, which helped him avoid being challenged.
Water Dancers implicitly allow those carrying weapons to be challenged.
Just in case, Viserys still had a dagger hidden at his waist.
Assassins did not like middle-aged men like Moro or unarmed opponents like Viserys; they preferred soft targets or young swordsmen.
Two young assassins were preparing to duel by the Moon Pool, surrounded by many onlookers; the Braavosi were accustomed to duels.
They were flamboyantly dressed, with hair dyed purple or gold, and held the slender rapiers of assassins.
"Who is the most beautiful woman in the world?"
"Nightingale," the purple-haired assassin said confidently.
"No, I believe it's The Swordswoman who sings 'Five Hundred Miles.' Now I challenge you," the golden-haired swordsman snorted. "Will you change your mind?"
"A swordsman never retreats."
"Then it's settled."
"Gladly."
The two assassins immediately drew their rapiers, and the crowd automatically parted to form a circle around them.
Then the assassins began to face their opponent sideways; this was the true Water Dance.
Viserys was a bit tense, but this was the assassins' daily life; they would fight fiercely over something as trivial as "What are you looking at?"
'Five Hundred Miles From Home' seemed to have truly become popular, and faster than Viserys had expected.
After all, it was a folk classic, and in a port city like Braavos, it was bound to be incredibly popular.
"It's normal for two people to fight over a Courtesan; what does it have to do with me?" Viserys watched the battle intently.
The assassins' silver blades clashed in the air, slender and elegant in their movements.
Though frivolous, such duels were very dangerous, as neither combatant wore armor or helmets, making it an unrestricted stabbing match.
The assassins' movements were all very swift, reaching a certain speed.
The two Water Dancers lunged forward, using their sharp blades to find their opponent's weaknesses.
However, these assassins seemed to have some code of conduct; they did not immediately stab at their opponent's eyes—even thieves have their own code.
Viserys observed their movements, like a dangerous waltz, searching for weak points in the human body.
Considering the Water Dancer's training, using a rapier and no armor, they were indeed more prone to flashy attacks.
However, they were not the most famous Water Dancers; those renowned swordsmen were already guests of various nobles.
"Look for openings in the body, let blood spill like water. Find the enemy's weaknesses, stab with the sharp end. Try to get hit less and attack more," Moro said softly.
Viserys nodded; the Water Dance and the Iron Dance were completely different—one was a killer's dance, the other a knight's dance.
The Water Dance emphasized swiftness, agility, speed, and balance. Its skill points focused on speed and agility, quick and unexpected movements.
The knight's Iron Dance was more comprehensive and favored strength. It involved wide, sweeping cuts.
The battle quickly ended, with the golden-haired swordsman's blade cutting into the purple-haired swordsman's body.
The assassins thrust and parried, or sidestepped and counter-attacked; the Water Dancers' sword moves became increasingly dangerous.
Because these swords were slender rapiers, the attack method was primarily point-thrusting, similar to modern fencing.
Water Dancer duels were not like the brute force of Westeros.
Both individuals had stab wounds and lacerations, large and small, with blood flowing freely.
Without armor in duels, the attrition rate for these assassins was indeed very high.
"Watch out!"
Someone covered their eyes directly; it was a bloody, decisive strike.
The golden-haired assassin's most fatal blow pierced the purple-haired assassin's heart.
A large patch of blood stained the ornate clothes, and the assassin's body fell.
"The Swordswoman is the best Courtesan, 'Five Hundred Miles From Home' is the best song. Please remember my name, Quickblade Rodd," the golden-haired swordsman raised his bloody sword.
"The Swordswoman! Quickblade!"
"Quickblade!"
"The Swordswoman!"
Everyone cheered, because those who didn't cheer might face a second challenge.
Quickblade Rodd crouched down and carefully searched the dead purple-haired assassin's body, taking any gold coins or valuable items the deceased carried.
The purple-haired assassin's body lay silently on the ground, unnoticed.
"Don't worry about it," Moro said. "He'll be gone by tomorrow morning. The Magistrate of the Moon Pool will clear the body."
Quickblade, wounded, swaggered away from the Moon Pool to find a place to heal and then have a good meal.
Quickblade had to leave; if he encountered an even more ruthless supporter of Nightingale, he would surely die now.
"That's allowed?" Viserys asked in a low voice. "Isn't that murder combined with looting?"
"The Magistrate doesn't allow it, but privately, bets are honored, and the victor has the right to take the loser's belongings..." Moro replied. "Don't your knights in Westeros have this rule too?"
"They do. Victorious knights win the loser's armor and horses, often bankrupting poor knights. But it's not this bloody," Viserys nodded. No wonder the atmosphere in Braavos was so harsh.
Before entering a duel, one needed to be cautious.
This unrestricted stabbing without armor or defense was truly easy to end up dead. Knights at least had a set of equipment when they fought.
Here, it was both about skill and life or death. Win and succeed, lose and be utterly defeated.
"What's your favorite song to listen to?" The lingering onlookers were still discussing.
"It's 'The Seagull and the Titan.'"
"Damn, that's all outdated. Now even the dock sailors and Courtesans sing 'Five Hundred Miles From Home.' That Courtesan 'The Swordswoman' who sings 'Five Hundred Miles From Home' has suddenly become hugely popular."
"She's really lucky. The lyrics of this song are catchy, it's the kind of song that will be popular for a long time. Those foreign sailors and merchants love this song the most."
"Nightingale is going to have a hard time; The Swordswoman is challenging her," an assassin said gloatingly.
Each Courtesan had a niche and a selling point, besides beauty.
The Poetess was known for her erudition, Black Pearl for her generational legend, the Mermaid Queen for her dignity, the Veiled Lady for her mystery, and the Daughter of Darkness for her cold allure.
Nightingale's niche was being the best singing Courtesan, and with The Swordswoman's aggressive emergence, Nightingale was definitely under the most pressure.
"But the songwriter is truly a mysterious person, unlike Braavos's most famous singers."
"The most famous ones are already tied to Nightingale and Black Pearl, among others. This time, the one who became famous is a newcomer. Silver Traveler, what a strange name."
Viserys ignored these discussions. They were looking for the Silver Traveler; what did it have to do with him, Viserys?
Moro looked at his apprentice with admiration; fourteen-year-old Viserys had already made a name for himself in Braavos in his own way.
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