The Storm
After a breakfast of oyster chowder and a few slices of rye bread, Arthur set off with Victar to meet the insurance merchant.
They were accompanied by Zaren Borrell and "Ledger" Pate.
Arthur had specifically asked for Pate; he intended to groom the young man.
"The merchant I signed the contract with is named Sabel Kaffi," Victar said, stepping into the small boat first. "He's Braavosi, and a fat man ruled by greed."
"I don't fear his greed; I fear his incompetence or lack of ambition." Arthur stepped onto the boat, wearing the black silk outfit he bought yesterday. "We need someone with strong intelligence-gathering capabilities."
"He was in this business back when I was just a sailor," Victar said, pushing off against the hull of the Storm with an oar. The small boat glided slowly northward.
"Though he lost an eye years ago, his powers of observation are sharper than when he had two."
"He has an army of pickpockets, beggars, and peddlers working for him," Ledger Pate added, knowing of Sabel Kaffi. "He often calls them his missing eye."
Victar and Sabel Kaffi had arranged to meet at a soup shop near the Purple Harbor.
The shop smelled richly of onion and meat broth. On the third floor, Arthur met the greedy fat man Victar had described.
Sabel Kaffi was indeed fat—his face and body were almost spherical as he nestled on a soft divan.
He was balding, with grizzled hair on the sides. His missing right eye was uncovered, leaving a deep, sunken socket.
He wore loose, dark silk robes, and rings set with gems of every color adorned his fingers.
"Victar, my friend! I thought I'd never see you again!" Sabel Kaffi reluctantly put down his bowl of onion soup and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Five empty bowls sat on the table beside him. A servant stepped forward to clean a splash of gravy from his silks, while two identical-looking guards stood behind him.
At his feet, a muscular bulldog was also eating, its bowl piled high with fresh meat and fish.
Sabel Kaffi's fat face crinkled into a smile. "You are one of the very few captains to return to Braavos after hitting a reef in the Bite."
"My friend, you sound like you wish I hadn't returned." Victar pulled a parchment scroll from his tunic and placed it on the table. "When I was on Sweetsister, I dreamed of seeing your face."
"You dreamed of seeing my gold, didn't you?" Sabel Kaffi's smile remained fixed, but his single white eye looked somewhat menacing.
"I underestimated your resilience. I was blind back then; I should have doubled your premium."
"I'm not as capable as you think." Victar stepped aside to reveal Arthur in his black silk. "I was just lucky to have this lord as a passenger."
Arthur stepped forward to speak, but Sabel Kaffi's bulldog suddenly started barking. It didn't stop until Arthur frowned and took two steps back.
"Claw is sensitive to strangers." Sabel Kaffi pulled the dog into his lap, affectionately stroking its round head as he looked at Arthur.
"You dress in black, but you are no Braavosi lord, are you?"
He pierced through Arthur's disguise instantly.
"I may have lost one eye, but my nose is sharp enough, my friend. You are from the Sunset Kingdoms. There, men who wear all black are called Night's Watch, not lords."
Clearly, Sabel Kaffi had already learned their details from his "network."
"Besides fulfilling the contract, we are here to discuss a partnership." Arthur sat opposite Sabel Kaffi, switching to Braavosi to get straight to the point. "I hope we can speak privately."
"You speak Braavosi... and you want a partnership?" Sabel Kaffi hesitated for a moment, then waved his servants away. He wanted to see what game this Westerosi was playing.
Arthur repeated the pitch he had given Zaren, Pate, and Cauliflower Ear yesterday.
Sabel Kaffi was patient. He stroked his beloved dog Claw and listened quietly to the end, neither interrupting nor asking questions.
"A good idea." A glint of shrewdness flashed in Sabel Kaffi's single eye. "Are you a Sisterman? A pirate?"
"My name is Arthur Snow. I am a Northman," Arthur replied honestly. "As Victar said, I was just a passenger on his ship. I never intended to come here."
"True. No Sisterman speaks Braavosi this well." Sabel Kaffi nodded. "You say you represent the Lord of the Three Sisters. How can you prove it?"
"Isn't the proof sitting right in front of you?" Arthur waved the parchment contract.
"If that's not enough, the Lord's nephew is outside the door. You should see the webbing between his fingers; it runs in the family."
"How exactly will this work?" Sabel Kaffi reviewed the details Arthur had outlined and found no flaws. "In other words, how do we split the profits?"
"You will provide us with a house with a smithy in Braavos as a contact point," Arthur said.
"I will interface with your people there, and then use the information you provide to coordinate with the Sistermen."
"The cargo and the ships belong to the Sistermen. The insurance side in Braavos belongs to you. We won't touch that."
"The profit distribution is reasonable, and the plan sounds feasible." Kaffi sat up straight, putting Claw down, adopting a negotiating posture. "But why must I provide the house? And why a smithy?"
"We handle the transport of the shipwrecked crews and captains. We'll use legitimate merchant ships to bring them back to Braavos. That is a long-term cost we bear."
"The smithy is just a cover," Arthur explained patiently. "After all, this business isn't exactly honorable. Keeping it hidden as long as possible benefits us both."
"Hmm... alright." Sabel Kaffi conceded the point. "I will provide the house, but only as a rent-free loan."
"Agreed." Arthur nodded, pushing the parchment across the table to Sabel Kaffi.
"As a foundation for mutual trust, I expect you to pay out this contract in full."
The parchment recorded the value of the Wavebreaker and its cargo—equivalent to about 3,500 Gold Dragons in Westerosi currency.
"No, I can only pay half." Sabel Kaffi shook his head decisively.
"That is the unwritten rule of the Braavosi insurance trade. Victar knows this."
"I don't know about unwritten rules. I want a partner who honors contracts and whom I can trust." Arthur shrugged and stood up as if to leave.
"I imagine you aren't the only insurance merchant in Braavos. Perhaps others would be willing to pay Victar the other half of this contract."
"Damn it all, you say you aren't a Sisterman, but you act just like one." Sabel Kaffi stood up from his divan for the first time, bracing his hands against his round belly, his face flushing slightly.
"I will arrange the payout as soon as possible. In full!"
"A pleasure doing business?" Arthur looked back at him.
"A pleasure!" Sabel Kaffi scrutinized Arthur with his single eye.