Chapter 64: The Spoon and the Silk

Master Mateo of the Purple Canal stood in his high-collared lavender jacket, his thin rapier gleaming under the twilight sun of the Moon Pool. The small crowd surrounding the plaza hushed, their eyes darting between the proud, flamboyant water-dancer and the unarmored Northern lord sitting calmly with a six-year-old Targaryen girl.

Robin looked down at Dany.

A dashing, mischievous smile—the kind that rarely touched his solemn grey eyes—broke across his face. He leaned down, whispering warmly in her ear.

"Dany," Robin murmured playfully. "Sing the song I taught you the day we met in the fog."

Dany blinked her dark violet eyes, her worry instantly melting away into a bright, eager nod. She sat up straight on her chair, taking a deep breath into her small chest.

Robin stood up smoothly from the café table. He didn't reach for a blade or look around for a staff. Instead, with a polite bow and a charming wink toward a wealthy Braavosi noblewoman at the neighboring table, Robin gently took a long, thin scarf of pale blue silk resting over her chair.

"I shall return it undamaged in a moment, my Lady," Robin promised smoothly.

The noblewoman gasped, her cheeks flushing pink as Robin stepped into the open cobblestone circle. He held the soft silk loosely in his right hand. In his left, held casually between his thumb and forefinger, was the small, silver tea spoon he had just used to stir his pear tea.

"You face a First Sword candidate with a silk scarf and a spoon, Lord Robin?" Mateo scoffed, a confident, amused smirk rising on his face as he raised his rapier. "Arrogant, even for a wolf."

"Not arrogant, Master Mateo," Robin replied, his clear grey eyes locking onto the water-dancer with absolute, fluid clarity. "When my Lady begins her song... we dance."

The Melody of Water and Steel

From the wooden chair under the canvas awning, Dany’s clear, high-pitched voice echoed across the quiet plaza:

“There will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword...”

The moment the first word left her lips, Mateo struck.

He moved like a flash of lightning—the true embodiment of the water-dancer’s art. His thrust was blind-fast, precise, and lethal, aiming the steel tip of his rapier directly toward Robin’s right shoulder.

Robin didn't block. He didn't jump back.

His kinetic spatial awareness, honed by millennia of apex physical logic, calculated the trajectory before the blade even fully extended. Robin simply tilted his torso three millimeters to the left. The whistling rapier passed through empty air, brushing harmlessly against the fabric of his grey wool tunic.

“He will tear your city down, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord...”

This text was taken from NovelPhoenix. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Mateo gasped internally, instantly shifting his weight to pivot, snapping his wrist to deliver a lightning-fast horizontal slash toward Robin’s neck.

Robin took half a step forward—stepping inside the swing’s arc. He ducked his head by an inch, the silver blade grazing two hair-breadths above his dark curls.

To the crowd of Braavosi merchants and water-dancers watching from the plaza edge, it looked like sheer, impossible magic. Robin was not dodging; he was floating like a ghost around Mateo’s steel, moving so seamlessly that the blade seemed to actively avoid him.

“There will come a poet whose weapon is his word...

He will slay you with his tongue, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord...”

Mateo’s forehead beaded with sweat. Frustration and shame surged through his veins. He unleashed a flurry of five rapid-fire thrusts—a masterclass of Braavosi fence-work that would have killed three men in three seconds.

Pass. Pass. Pass.

Robin glided through the rain of steel like a leaf in a gentle breeze. A slight sway of his hips, a subtle shift of his ankles, a tiny dip of his shoulder. He never once raised his hands to attack. He simply let Mateo exhaust his momentum against the empty air, keeping time with Dany’s rhythmic singing.

The Final Verse

Dany leaned forward on her chair, her small voice swelling with pure, joyous confidence as she reached the final strophe:

“O line up, O line up, O line up, O soldier...

O line up, O line up, and show me your king!”

As the last note rang out, Mateo grew desperate. He lunged forward with his absolute deadliest technique—a full-body driving thrust aimed at Robin's chest, putting his entire weight and reputation behind the point.

Robin’s grey eyes flashed.

He didn't step back this time. He stepped directly into the water-dancer’s personal space.

With a flick of his wrist, Robin whipped the long blue silk scarf mid-air. The soft, flowing fabric wrapped around Mateo’s extended sword hand and wrist like a striking serpent. Robin pulled the silk taut, redirecting Mateo’s force sideways and yanking the off-balance water-dancer stumbling forward toward him.

As Mateo’s momentum pulled his face right next to Robin's shoulder, Robin did not punch him. He did not break his jaw or snap his ribs.

Robin casually raised his left hand and tapped the silver tea spoon lightly against the center of Mateo’s forehead.

CLINK.

The tiny, sharp metallic chime rang out softly in the silent plaza.

The Master Disarmed

Mateo froze instantly, his eyes wide in absolute, disbelieving horror.

Robin stood half an inch away, holding the silk scarf firmly wrapped around Mateo’s trapped wrist, while the tiny silver spoon rested gently against the water-dancer’s brow—right where a dagger point would have pierced his brain.

"Touché, Master Mateo," Robin whispered smoothly, a warm, gentle smile on his lips.

The plaza was dead silent for three agonizing seconds.

Then, Robin unwrapped the silk scarf with a graceful flick, stepping back and offering the breathless, trembling water-dancer a polite, formal bow. He walked back to the neighboring table, draping the pristine blue scarf back over the noblewoman’s chair with another dashing bow.

"My thanks, Lady," Robin offered warmly. "It performed admirably."

The noblewoman clapped her hands to her cheeks, squealing in delight, and the entire plaza erupted into thunderous, deafening cheers!

Braavosi merchants slammed their wine goblets on the tables, water-dancers threw their feathered hats into the air, and the crowd roared in awe at the sheer, breathtaking brilliance of the spectacle. Mateo stared at his rapier, then looked at Robin, dropping to one knee on the cobblestones and bowing his head in profound, absolute respect for a master he couldn't even dream of touching.

Robin walked back to his table, tossing the silver spoon back into his saucer.

Dany jumped up from her chair, throwing her small arms around his waist with a bright, triumphant laugh. Robin scooped her up into his arms, kissing her temple softly as the sun set behind the colossal legs of the Titan, casting a golden light over the Secret City.